This Rodent Has IBS

This is the perfect (and funniest) depiction of life with IBS.   You really can eat and within minutes, be in the bathroom or frantically trying to find one, as your body revolts.  

My Colon Is Being An A**hole

Today, I made the bad decision to have two chicken pot pies for lunch.  Less than an hour after eating the delicious mixture of crispy crust, thick gravy, chunks of chicken and a few tasty peas and carrots, I was quarantined in the bathroom, gasping through the 'hold on until your knuckles are white' cramping of IBS.  (Irritable Bowel Syndrome)

When I first began having IBS five years ago, I could still eat nearly everything I wanted to, whenever I wanted to.  Now, food has become the enemy.  Eating isn't safe anymore.  One of the very few things human beings require to keep living is fuel - food turned into energy.  I feel lost as to what to give my body when it repels and expels that which it needs, on an ever changing whim.

IBS is painful and frustrating.  When the first thing you look for in a new restaurant is where the restroom is located or when you're afraid to go out to eat in the first place because public bathroom pooping is sketchy at best, you realize this is changing your life.

Nobody wants to be in the bathroom at Walmart & live through the embarrassment of  nuclear butt explosions while some poor mother is rushing to wash her toddler's hands at the sink so they can get the hell out of there.

And then there is your family, waiting at the table to pay the check and leave while you're figuratively chained to a cold, leg numbing toilet until there's nothing left in your digestive tract.  You know that they're used to it, they understand and yet you're hunched over, tapping out apologies and SOS messages for more toilet paper on the only link with the world for the next half an hour, your phone.

When I was nine years old, my mother abandoned both my four year old brother and myself.  How does that relate to IBS?  Well, both are super crappy.  (Pun intended - humor gets me through.)  But seriously, I mention it because my mom and her sisters all have similar digestive problems.  This seems to be hereditary and it truly angers me that someone who couldn't be bothered to raise their own child has the ability to pass on something so awful to live with.

I know life isn't fair but there gets to be a point where you stand in the middle of a storm called Fibromyalgia, IBS and a bunch of other stuff and you say, "Why me?"  Genetics doesn't offer comfort, nor mercy.  Nor does a padded toilet seat.

I Should Have Eaten The Eggs

IBS & fibromyalgia are partners in crime that hold my body hostage quite often. However, over time, I have figured out a few things that I cannot eat unless I want to be singing all ten minutes of 'Freebird' over and over from the concert stage of my toilet.

Onions, Tomatoes, Pickles, Eggs, Broccoli, Brussel Sprouts, Lettuce, Spicy Foods, Seeds, Nuts.

Tonight, I made everyone steak and eggs. I really wanted some eggs. Nice, yolky eggs with rye bread toast to go along with my juicy steak. But, I abstained. I made pasta with my steak and I was proud of myself.

Less than an hour later, I was held hostage in the bathroom, cramped up and muttering, "if I leave here tomorrow.."

I hate IBS as much as I hate fibromylagia. These illnesses that have a mind of their own and play tricks on us daily. I have no idea what set the IBS off tonight but I should have eaten the eggs. Dammit.

Diarrhea Of The Mouth

I was talking with Tony last night about, well, poop.  I was very stoned on pain medication, muscle relaxers and that is my only excuse for going off on a bender about my digestion problems.  I have IBS - Irritable Bowel Syndrome - and it is a pain in the ass.  (Puns are always intended on this blog.)

I had not been in sharing mode for long when he said he needed to go AFK. (Away From Keyboard, for those of you who may not know the lingo.)  Maybe he needed to get a drink or feed the cat.  Maybe he needed to laugh at me or possibly, he needed to step away and gag.  Whatever took him away, I didn't let it bother me - I just kept on typing.

I told him the story of my day with IBS.  How I had forgotten to take the Miralax the doctor told me to take every other day.  I said that I was very disenchanted with the IBS medication they had prescribed because it didn't seem to be working at all.

I filled him in on how IBS can cause diarrhea or consipation but for me, it was usually the latter - compacted bowels filled with poop that wanted to stay awhile.  That IBS makes us very gassy and the gas pains are gut-twisting agony.  And how.. if I could just fart, I would feel so much better.  That I was praying for one long, preferably silent and non-smelly fart that would take all of the pain with it.

I had no shame.  I felt like he wanted needed to hear every crappy detail of my life with IBS.  He had no choice in the matter as I flung words onto the screen.  Finally, he returned from AFK & God bless him, he took it in stride as he always does. 

I told him that I was sure when I woke up the next morning and was no longer high as a kite, I would be mortified by what I had shared with him.  The first thought I had this morning was - Did I really talk about farting last night?

...Yes I did.  Boo.