IBSFTW

IBS is the bane of my existence. Diagnosed while in college, suffering with it since puberty-- it both rules and complicates my life. The worst part is that some doctors don't think it exists, it's a diagnosis of exclusion (meaning if they can't figure out what's wrong, they stick this label on it), it's hard to treat (because they probably don't know much about what's going on) and it pretty much sucks.

I'm a lucky person because I was able to manage my IBS through lifestyle changes and I've dealt with it for almost a decade so I pretty much have it figured out. The only problem is that now my IBS is the problem of OTHER people. IBS isn't exactly one of those things you go around shouting from the rooftops. I mean, sure, people close to you might need to know because it does cause certain...interruptions. What about the people I still interact with on a day-to-day basis? Am I supposed to hand them a cabinet-card inscribed with my name and "IBS Sufferer" engraved below it?

You're probably thinking: well, what does it matter if other people don't know you have IBS? I guess it doesn't REALLY, but this point was driven home to me a few years ago. Towards the end of my college career I finally started making close friends at my school. Eventually, I'd talk about my IBS (you have to make jokes about it-- it's the only way to deal with its social awkwardness) and tell them about how it's the worst during tests. See, my IBS is really, really exacerbated by stress and I have legendary test anxiety. Thus, during tests in college I often had... little mandatory breaks, if you will, in which is was of the utmost importance that I exit the test and make a mad dash for the restroom. And this would happen multiple times during our 3-5 hour tests in our higher level science courses (ESSAY EXAMS!). During my Senior year, on more than one occasion, I had different friends tell me that they thought I was going to the bathroom to cheat on the test. How one cheats on the test while having their guts completely exit their contents is beyond my comprehension, but I was appalled nonetheless.

It still happens to this day during my medical school exams only now it's more.. public. During our exams only one student may exit the exam room at a time and write their name on a chalk board at the front of the room. Anyone else needing to answer nature's call must wait until said person returns. Therefore, when nature's screaming at me and kicking me in the gut, it's a) hard to wait for someone to take their sweet time coming back from the bathroom and b) embarrassing when I come back into the exam room taking enough time to make it known that I wasn't going in there just to pee and wash my hands. And maybe no one notices, but... what if someone does?

The other horrible thing about my IBS is that sometimes it hits unexpectedly. For example, right in the middle of an hour-long lecture. I could be sitting there, peacefully and then WHAM! I HAVE TO GO. I have to sit on the front row of the classroom in order to pay attention the best I can, so I can't just... get up in the middle of class. It's unprofessional. So I have. to. wait. And finally, once we come to a break, I make a mad dash to the bathroom.

What about when on vacation with people where you're sharing a hotel room, you may ask. Well, that's even MORE fun. I had a really, really rough time with it during my overseas vacay with boyfriend a few months ago. I don't tell him too much about my IBS because, let's face it, I like to keep a little mystery between us. But sometimes there's just nothing you can do. And I had one of the worst attacks I'd had in years right when we arrived in Paris. And he kind of politely mentioned to me that in the future I might want to take some meds to prevent these kinds of things from happening, especially if I'm in close quarters with other people. I was MORTIFIED. I wanted to explain to him that by the time it hits, ain't NO amount of Immodium is going to make this problem go away. I must have the worlds strongest external anal sphincter (the one you have voluntary control over) due to the amount of... patience I must use to prevent even more mortifying occasions. The best part of this story? My IBS totally made a 180 and after this incident I was unable to go to the bathroom for OVER A WEEK. Try explaining why you don't want to get out of bed/move/do anything to your boyfriend by telling him that your colon is impacted. Yeah. I thought so.

Anyway, if boyfriend reads this: here it is. It used to be a LOT worse (stories which I will tell in future entries) so be happy that I've gotten control (somewhat) of my irritable colon and let's be thankful I've learned what foods not to eat. Also, I haven't crapped myself since Kindergarten, so let's give it up for some amazing skeletal muscle-sphincter control.