My Irritable Bowels

I had my first symptoms of Irritable Bowel Syndrome in the spring of 1990. In April of 1992, I was misdiagnosed by my first gastroenterologist as having duodenitis. That doctor prescribed Nexium [1], which did not relieve my symptoms. My second stomach doctor properly diagnosed my condition as IBS-C (that is, constipation-predominant Irritable Bowel Syndrome). This doctor prescribed Carafate [2] for my condition. The medicine relieved the bloating and cramps, but not the constipation.

On a warm April morning in 1996, I decided to try something new for my ongoing constipation: a high-fiber diet. Much to my delight, my constipation cleared up and normal bowel movements resumed. Anybody with IBS knows that with this condition, a normal bowel movement is a hard-earned prize. But as the old saying goes, "all good things must end." It was mid-March 1998, after almost two years of regular bowel movements that had erased any worries of constipation. Then, suddenly, a poopless day; and then two, then three, four, five. Somehow my body became resistant to the fiber.

I was baffled. "Something indigestible is indigestible," I thought. I increased my fiber intake to thirty-five grams, with no change. Then forty, then fifty, and then all the way to sixty-five grams. I was now concerned and worried. I made sure to drink enough water, even though drinking ten twelve-ounces glasses every day was causing me to projectile piss all the time.

I resorted to Dulcolax [3] to clean me out. This made my stomach feel like it was boiling a pot of Mexican chili. I would constantly have to be near a bathroom and would often have to sprint to the toilet or risk having a blowout. I would be so full of shit that I would fill the bowl twice. I would shit almost nonstop for thirty minutes; I was constantly clogging toilets. Something was definitely wrong.

Worse still, my gastroenterologist got caught using sedatives on the job and lost his license to practice. I now had no stomach doctor, to boot.

Finally, after Christmas 1998 passed, I decided to try something new: senna. That evening just before bedtime, I popped two pills and drank eight ounces of water. At around five AM I woke up with stomach cramps -- the senna was working. But I was hoping that I wouldn't have to unexpectedly make a mad dash for the toilet. I fell back to sleep, only to wake up again at eight to start my day.

After breakfast I turned on the news. "More problems with the Big Dig," the news anchor exclaimed as my stomach began to gurgle. As the weatherman told me that "high pressure coming out of Ontario, Canada, which means temperatures around zero for New Year's", I began to feel high pressure of my own inside my ass, with a hundred percent chance of shit. "Here goes nothing," I thought as I headed for the bathroom.

I sat down, expecting a burst of liquishit. But there was no liquishit to be had -- instead I got my first easy slider in months. I was impressed. I unrolled my usual four sheets of toilet paper, and wiped. "Huh," I thought, as I noticed nothing on the paper. "A wipeless shit!"

I looked in the toilet at my new creation. It was a perfect poop. It was very large, thick, and firm all the way through. I admired it for a while -- after all, this was the first log that I had created in months. This turd was so huge, it took almost the entire flush to move it. As the water swirled straight on top of it, it reluctantly slipped out of sight to its watery grave.

Happy with the results, I took senna every day, with very similar results for the next seven weeks.

But then, by mid-February 1999, my body grew accustomed to senna. It was back to constipation city for me. My run of perfect turds was over. Now I could look forward to having shit marbles shooting out of my ass again. At the time I was a Shameful Shitter, and I didn't appreciate all those little plops, even in my own family's company.

Then the senna turned on me. Instead of perfect logs, it would take three doses to get things moving, and then I would get the infamous rapid cleanse or precipitous burst. These unpredictable bouts of diarrhea would be punctuated by weeks or even months of constipation. Sometimes I would have such severe constipation that I would have to put on a rubber glove and dig the poop out of my ass. It was a very awkward and uncomfortable situation.

Nonetheless, all my new doctor would tell me was "Try eating fiber" or "Try a stool softener." He just didn't get it. So I would either have to strain the hell out of my bowels, dig the poop out, or take a laxative and "blow it out." I was at my wit's end.

Then my body became immune to the IBS medicine. I began to have the bloating, burning pains in the pit of my stomach, and the gas.

The 2000's brought more of the same vicious cycle: long bouts of constipation punctuated by diarrhea, bloating, and that burning pain in the pit of my stomach. Normal logs of poop were so rare that I would linger as I admired them, knowing that after I flushed, I wasn't going to see another normal turd for several months.

In early 2004, all of the excess straining brought on a case of hemorrhoids. This climaxed in November of 2005 as, well, as another story for another time.

In February of 2006, I finally found a product that works. I have been 90% symptom-free ever since. The only times my IBS bothers me lately are times of extreme mental stress. We will see what the future holds for IBS and me. Is this nothing more than a good stretch? Or, after sixteen years of misery, have I finally gotten the upper hand on the terrible demon named IBS?