This GG returned to the homestead late afternoon on Labor Day after three glorious days in the clear when WHAM-O, poor Biff seemed to have caught the IBS bug. After nursing my dear one back to health, I, too, succumbed to the curse of the gurgles. Foiled again!
What had been an excellent, care-free weekend quickly devolved into the dueling toilet seats. Was it something we ate? But no! We - well, I had been so careful. In fact, I had barely had a real "meal" since the smorgasbord on Saturday. I was content to graze like a gazelle but even that was not enough to stop the wrath of IBS.
As Biff began to feel a bit better - poor thing, his pains laid him out flat with a heating pad! And he didn't even get a turkey leg or meat on a stick at Ye Olde Ren Faire - I realized my time had come: I took to the bed, crumpled in the familiar position of discomfort. I had a case of the death farts/burps for a good two hours before passing out from sheer exhaustion. Then sometime in the wee hours of the morning it hit me. I launched myself into the bathroom just in time to heave everything I had into the commode, face first. I'll spare you the rank details but let's just say it was reminiscent of that fateful train ride to hell and back.
(Nothing kills romance faster than epic ogre gas. I am thankful every day that I have found my ogre soul mate who can laugh his ass off while simultaneously dutch-ovening me in my own stench. Sheer kismet.)
The next day at work was no picnic. I could seriously have walked around with a tether to the ladies' room, that's how far away I was at any given time. Full on squirts all day, all night and boy, did they come on fast! I actually woke up twice during deep slumber to unload the bi-products of fickle digestion. This is absolutely NOT normal for IBS, or so my new GI tells me.
This morning was my follow-up appointment and I decided on a female doctor this time because, well, we're built the same way and I'm just more comfortable with her level of expertise. (She knows of what she speaks.)
Dear GGs, it looks like I have not escaped the experience of invasive testing after all. I have scheduled my procedures and will write back with details once I have them. My IBS could very well be IBS with further complications or it could be something else entirely. If there's anything to take away from this post, it would be the following:
*Don't settle for one doctor's opinion, just because he/she is the first specialist you saw.
*Recount your discomfort in as much detail as possible: if something sounds odd, a specialist will know. He or she needs to hear everything that's happened in order to know how to proceed.
*If something like nocturnal vomiting/diarrhea persists - call your doctor immediately. This is not normal, even for IBSers.
*Ask lots of questions and do your research beforehand so you can have a more balanced conversation with your doctor about what lies ahead of you. It's a long road made more comfortable by open and honest communication.
*Find someone who loves you, farts and all
(In all seriousness, this is crucial. You can't hide IBS, you can't control it, odors/sounds will
eek out and you will have to acknowledge the presence of gurgle guts so it might as well be
with someone with a sense of humor and compassion. Mine's already taken so find your own
ogre!)
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
I can corroborate the story about the dutch oven. It was EPIC!
ReplyDelete