We never talk about poo. Ever.
It’s something that you don’t discuss in proper company, nor with your closest friends and family. At least that’s how it was with my family and friends. It just wasn’t a topic.
Until I caught the flu. In my intestines.
It started on March 20th, and I figured it was something I had over the day; maybe too much BBQ sauce or too much fast food in general. But I kept needing to go. I don’t even remember much of the first two weeks I went to the bathroom so much. It was frightening to me, mostly, because it was just liquid. It seemed physically impossible to go that much. I had always had a good appetite and not much really threatened that habit.
For the first month, I shut down. I stopped eating and drinking because I was in so much pain and disgusted with the fact that I was still going almost 7 to 8 times a day. I couldn’t, wouldn’t let myself eat anything outside of the B.R.A.T. diet (bread, rice, apples, toast), and even then I limited myself to very little food. This did not change anything. On a few occasions I was so nauseous that I spent the night in the bathroom, curled up on the floor and my arms around my stomach, but not once did I ever throw up. It was always in my intestines. Not that it was any better. Dehydrated, undernourished and exhausted, I had some very dark moments with myself.
Eventually, my mother forced me to eat more, which did nothing in the end, and we called the doctor. I had lost about 8lbs by this point. I had “intestinal flu” or basically chronic diarrhea and was told to have yogurt (any kind) twice a day and diluted gatorade; the yogurt was to re-cultivate the good bacteria in my intestines that had been stripped, and the gatorade was to give my body the electrolites lost as well. This did help, but I was still having extremely loose stool and went too many times a day for comfort. We called the nurse line again and was reminded to have a Probiotic twice a day. Normally this is only advised once a day, but my case was so extreme the doctor felt it best to get me back to normal.
A few weeks went by. I spent most of my time drinking an impressive amount of gatorade and water, all while watching period films and shows on PBS or NOVA. My body could no longer even handle regular commercials of grease-filled burgers and oiled fast food. I cannot tell you how many times I watched Pride & Prejudice. I didn’t read, listen to music, or draw at all. I barely moved between the couch and the bathroom. Even my father, who normally tries to get me outside, backed off and kept his distance from me. I had told everyone not to touch me. I could never wish what I had on anyone.
Another phone call to the doctor prompted a series of tests; I would have to provide samples until the results were negative three times consecutively- to prove if I was host to a parasite or not. It seemed like I was getting better, and then it would all be washed away in a day- three trips to the bathroom to make me feel irreversibly broken. I remember hearing my mother from my bed, listening to her talk with my aunt about my case. It made me feel so sad, and tragic that I couldn’t get better. I wanted to be better. I remember crying.
The first was negative.
My stool was still irregularly soft, but thankfully now I was going every other day. Sometimes every third or miraculously fourth day. But I lost almost 20lbs since March. Every time one of my parents or my brother spent too much time in the bathroom I got nervous- anxious that I had given them what I had. I tried to stay in my room, away from them. I never went out with friends, and if I did go out, it was only to work the few hours I had to. I don’t think I touched anyone.
The second was negative.
I was moving around more. Humming occasionally. My bathroom trips were becoming more irritating then anything. I was frustrated that my body was still having problems. That my change in diet had not given me the answer. I just wanted so badly to be normal again. I used to have a burger a week and coffee almost everyday in the morning. Caffeine was out of the question, and I didn’t even touch the milk carton, or the various sweets my brother left in the fridge. Surely there was an answer to my plight? In the back of my head I wondered if I had IBS or that it really was a parasite, and all I needed was the samples to tell me I wasn’t broken- just a host to the troublemaker- and that I could be fixed. Sure I was functioning alright, but I was not the same as I was before!
The third was negative.
It has been maybe two or three weeks since the results came in. I was elated I didn’t have a parasite, but confused that I was still a little off. My stool is typically between firm and soft, but not yet regular. On occasion I have to sit down and be still, as if I have moved too much. And on some very rare times, I have trouble telling if I am hungry.
I have yogurt and a Probiotic pill every morning. I stay away from greasy food and anything fried. I only just today sipped some soda and have yet to taste any coffee. My story has been told to most of my family members and only my closest friends. And now you.
I think gathering my own stool samples was the weirdest thing I have ever done. I never want to do it again.
