Too Much Information

WARNING: blunt talk about IBS and toilet issues.

Okay so if you have been following this blog for a while you will know that when I go away I have trouble sleeping and trouble in that by guts block up for days and when I finally get to go it is all a lot of pushing for nothing but a chipolata sized effort.

Then I had my big emotional epiphany the last few months of last year where I finally realised that I had been abused because there was something wrong with those who abused me and not with me. Meaning I finally understood that they abused me because of who they were and not because of I was.

We went away last Xmas just as I was coming to the end of this traumatic time. I slept well for the first time ever away from home. My gut was not comfortable but I did at least go regularly. I still got the burning discomfort and the crawling feeling.

Soon after getting back from this trip I was put on medication (Colofac) for IBS and this worked immediately. My spasms stopped . More than that, my toilet habits changed too, for the better. It seems I have had IBS for years and that what I thought was normal was not. I imagine, but cannot know it, that this was probably brought on by the purging and vomiting from years of anorexia/bulima.

Anyway, I have recently been away again. I slept really really well. In fact I slept better than I do at home. My bowells on the other hand were in a cantankerous mood. Typical IBS symptoms but different to my normal ones. This time all was well until suddenly I cramped and needed to go as soon as possible, preferably sooner. Really disconcerting. I was in Globus, a huge store, with two sets of loos but a long way from where my cramp came! I only just wheeled myself there in time! Okay, so now I was uptight and worried about this every day. Now I could not rely on needing to go as soon as I woke up. Nope. My bowell just screamed at me when it felt like it, whenever it felt like it. Fortunately, I was near a loo everytime. The only bad time I had was the incident in Globus which was really awful. I really did not think I would make it.

This next bit makes me worry that George Bush will send an army to attack me for having weapons of mass destruction. All be it just one weapon of mass destruction.

My farts.

IBS farts are truly awesome. Even I think they are deadly and normally ones own farts don't alarm one. I took the attitude that Graham Chapman (of Monty Python) took, who declared that one of the greatest pleasures in life was to fart in bed and stick your head under the covers. Well, I used to agree but I do concede now that this may indeed be hazardous for my health. Strange as it seems though, when I actually go, it whiffs not.

Okay, so on my hols, I am tyranized by my bowell and needed to have a loo in easy reach at all times since I did not know when the urgent need to evacuate would come upon me. And because I had company, I had to coninually supress the ned to fart or go keep nipping out. I dealt with it quite well. I was releived, so to speak, upon crossing the Channel on the way back home, to know that my gut would get back to normal.

Did it hell! No sirreee. It went on strike. So here I am back home for 4 days and not a peep from my bowell. Not a chipolata in sight. Not even a fart. My stomach is bloated, my waistcoats feel too small, my trousers too tight, and I am wondering when I will deliver. I have drunk loads of water, you could almost say much as in Chinses Water Torture. I have eaten plenty of the green stuff with lots of fibre. Nothing. Swimming 40 laps twice. Nope. So this afternoon I resorted to a couple of Sennacot. This evening I got the mildest of hints that something might be moving. It did. Very genteel it was too. Normal in every way. A turd to be proud of. Phew. Now I don't feel so bloated and no one will mistake me for the first pregnant male in history or assume I drink beer by the gallon.