Bodily Functions

When I started this blog, I planned not to talk much about bodily functions. I've noticed a lot of bloggers, especially those blogging about weight loss, tend to write about female cycles or their bowel habits, and it kind of squigged me out a little bit.

But suddenly, it all seems so relevant.

About seven years ago, I discovered, most unpleasantly, that I had gallstones. After one night in the emergency room with the most excruciating pain, vomiting and diarrhea I've ever experienced, I ended up on the operating table, and the offending organ was removed. Sadly, I was not one of the folks who escaped the surgery without post-surgical side-effects. I'm one of the unlucky 10% who ended up with symptoms that mimic Irritable Bowel Syndrome.

Although my surgeon assured me that the problem would go away quickly, I've made frequent trips to the bathroom for the past seven years. I make so many trips that I have to buy the softest (and most expensive) bathroom tissue, so that I don't rub my poor and overworked behind raw. It's pretty typical to see me making a mad dash for the potty 20-30 minutes after I've eaten, and I know where every toilet is within a 50-mile radius. I've also learned the importance of skipping meals when I'm traveling so I don't get caught short.

The problem sometimes is better and sometimes worse, but it never completely goes away. When I'm having a particularly bad spell, I can go days, sometimes as much as a week, without being able to leave the house. A few years ago, I had to get my doctor to write me a letter to get me out of jury duty, because there was no way I was going to be able to sit through a trial without leaving at unpredictable moments. I told the jury commissioner I'd be happy to serve if they could provide me with a PottyTron (think JumboTron television for the bathroom) but they declined and instructed me to get a note from my doctor instead.

I've tried all sorts of different remedies that are supposed to help, but nothing worked for long. I've tried supplements, increasing my fiber intake, spacing my meals, decreasing my fat intake, increasing my fat intake, and even jumping up and down and saying "wubba." Nothing worked. My doctor has tried to get me to take a prescription drug that is supposed to help, but the medication in question tastes nasty, and it's just another expense to add to my usually-overstretched budget. Most of the time it's something I can manage with just a little bit of planning ahead.

The good news in all of this is that I never get constipated, and I never get food poisoning. Stuff moves through too quickly to make me sick. My mother and I went to a Chinese restaurant once and she got infected with e. coli. We ate the same stuff, but she was sick for a couple of weeks until she went to her doctor. I had tummy trouble for a couple of hours, and chalked it up to a bad no-gallbladder day.

Tomorrow, I'm supposed to check in for my weekly weigh-in, and I'm not looking forward to it. I expect that I've gained weight.

Why, you ask?

Well it's not because I've done a horrible job with my food plan this week. With the exception of Wednesday night, I've been right on target with what I planned to eat. One day shouldn't wipe me out, and the truth is I didn't stuff myself to extremes. I ate more than I'd originally planned, but I didn't single-handedly clear the buffet table.

The reason I'm expecting my weight to be up is, well, I seem to have developed the opposite bathroom problem than is usual.

Yes boys and girls, there's a serious log jam in Oinkstop's rear that's been going on for several days now.

I expect that my weight is going to be up (as it has been slowly climbing over the past few of days) because I'm going to be weighing all that food that has nowhere to go.

Don't worry, I'm not suffering or anything. I'm not uncomfortable, nothing hurts, and if I don't see some movement in this direction soon, I'll probably have to take measures to clear the pipes, as it were. But I expect tomorrow I'll be weighing a whole lot of stuff I don't want to weigh, so it's going to make for an unhappy Oinkstop at the scales tomorrow.

Oh poop. Literally.