May 2006 Archives

OK, I know I promised that my next entry would be filled with the happy joys of being alive in the springtime, but unfortunately I have IBS so my moods are controlled by my stomach. And my stomach is not at all happy.

I was doing fairly OK again for another couple of days, and then I dared to get up later than usual, just because I was knackered. Stomach then said "Well fine, if you're gonna mess me around then I'm gonna stop digesting stuff", and I now can't go to the bathroom.

I absolutely don't want to start a debate about which kind of IBS is "better", the diarrhea kind or the constipation kind, because anyone like me who suffers both kinds will know that they are both pure evil. However, one thing I would say about my own diarrhea attacks is that at least they get themselves over and done with quite quickly.

Yes, they do happen to be the most painful thing I've ever felt in my life, and when I have a really bad attack it feels like I may spontaneously combust at any moment - but at least it's guaranteed that in around an hour or so I'll feel perfectly fine again.

Constipation isn't like that. When your intestines go on strike, you just have to wait it out. Although I'm fortunate enough not to be one of those people who can go weeks and weeks without a bowel movement (I think my all-time record is a puny four days), the sensitivity of my IBS intestines means that any day without a BM is a day of uncomfortable tightness. At the moment it feels like someone is squeezing my colon and won't let go - it's not pain exactly, but it's difficult to ignore.

So, nothing to do but wait for it to pass (so to speak). And rejoice in the true glory of a medical disorder that fills you up with excrement. What more could I ask for from life?

(Note: Someone emailed me after my last entry to suggest that a "glass half-full" idea could be the fact that a new study has shown that the drug Zelnorm might work in people with alternating IBS, ie diarrhea and constipation, which has previously been without a drug of its own.

This is good news, except it's really not good news for me. Why? Because we can't get Zelnorm over here in the UK. We can't get Lotronex either. We never get the good drugs!)

So, as you've probably guessed by my last entry, I've had a bit of a setback. I may have contributed to this though - although I haven't eaten anything much that I shouldn't have, I have been letting myself indulge in weird sleeping and getting up patterns, just because I felt like it, and that may have caught up with me. My intestines like everything to stay exactly the same all the time, and that includes the time I get up in the morning and the time I go to sleep.

So I'm not panicking yet. However, I have to say that it is quite depressing, and even more depressing because it is such a typical aspect of IBS. You're fine for a week or a month, and then you're not. You get hopeful, and then you realise again that the big old IBS beast is not gonna disappear any time soon.

I've also been thinking about my "mystery year". A couple of years ago I had a very strange year when I was almost completely well for the entire time. I had a stressful job and I wasn't very happy, but my stomach was practically perfect. No pain, no constipation, no diarrhea, just a beautifully-formed BM in the morning and that was it.

I've wracked my brains to try to think what could have caused that mysterious year, but I've never been able to work it out. It certainly wasn't because I was relaxed and happy - my job is far less stressful now. God only knows what caused it. But I wish I could get it back.

Alongside that mysteriously perfect year, when I was still miserable (partly because I was scared that the IBS was going to come back at any moment), I think about the bit in "Bridget Jones's Diary" where she achieves her ideal weight. The entire book she has been recording her weight and all her calories, and she's been depressed because she can't reach her target weight. And then, one day, she does.

And nothing happens. Her life doesn't magically slot into place, she's not immediately attractive and rich, she's not miraculously changed. Someone tells her she looks a bit pale, and that's it.

So I worry about the fact that I might never get those magically working intestines back, and I also worry about the fact that if I do get them back, I'll be just as miserable still as I was in that mystery year - that my goal of an IBS-free existence wouldn't really change anything. That by now IBS has infected all corners of my life to such an extent that it's not the IBS that's the problem anymore, it's just me.

Sigh. Anyway, I would like to apologise for the nature of this blog entry, and assure you that the next one will be more a glass half-full kind of deal filled with fluffy little lambs and a dancing aardvark. Promise.

I've spent about four hours today dealing with varying levels of pain. Nothing mind-blowing, I'm not about to collapse in a heap, but it's still pain, and it still means that I can't focus on anything properly because I'm too busy trying to ignore my stomach.

It's worn off now, so I'm OK again, but it's reminded me of the one thing above all others that is difficult to cope with - and that's the pain. When you read about IBS in the media they often write about how embarrassing it must be to have IBS, and sure, it's not exactly fun in that department; but if the embarrassment were the worst part of IBS then I'd be laughing.

The truth is, I don't really care if people laugh at me if I have to run to the bathroom, because I'm too busy worrying that I might not be able to deal with the pain. I don't really care if I have another excruciating conversation with someone who asks me what my symptoms are and then decides that they wish they hadn't, as long as I don't have to put up with another bout of IBS pain that's so bad it makes me want to garrote myself with the shower curtain.

And I could cope with the bloating, and the weird gurgly noises, and the rushing to the loo, and the never rushing to the loo, and the avoidance of all foods which taste like something I might want to eat, if it just meant that I would never have the pain. Cause it's the pain that really saps your spirit; it's the pain that grinds you down.

I'm still doing pretty well, although I had a slight blip on the radar last week. Nothing major, just a bit of a tight stomach and discomfort, and I've been fine again for the past few days.

I think that this blip was caused by the fact that I have stopped taking the Berberine/grapefruit seed supplement and the black walnut tincture, because these two supplements were only to be used in the short-term to try to kill off some of the unfriendly bugs and help the good bugs to prosper.

This little blip has reminded me of perhaps one of the most infuriating aspects of having IBS, and that is the extreme sensitivity of your stomach. This basically means that your intestines don't want any kind of change, ever, and if you do change something then you should always expect a reaction. Here's a little metaphor to show you what I mean.

Imagine you have a friend called Arthur. Each morning you see Arthur walking along, and you say "Hello, Arthur", and Arthur replies "Hello". Then one morning you say "Hi, Arthur", instead of "Hello, Arthur", and Arthur says "Hello" back, and you think that everything is fine.

But everything is not fine. Because Arthur has immediately begun to analyse why you said "Hi" instead of a full "Hello". He starts to think that what this signifies is the weakened state of your friendship and the fact that you really have no time for him anymore. Slowly the realisation dawns on him that in fact you now hate and despise him, you plan to stop talking to him shortly, and you would quite like to murder his cat.

That's what it's like with IBS. You eat a tiny amount of something you shouldn't, and your gut goes "Three gluten molecules and an atom's worth of cheese, are you KIDDING ME? Well fine, you wanna be like that you go ahead, but I want three and a half hours in the bathroom tomorrow and don't even THINK that I'm not gonna gurgle."