IBS Episode 7

It’s been about a year or so since the last episode, which I suppose is what contributed to the complacency on my part which was entirely to blame this time around. It all began on Thursday afternoon with an innocent craving for soup since I was feeling too bloated to enjoy a decent lunch. There were only two alternatives – hot and sour soup which I consciously avoided having had bad experiences at other places with the same, and the innocent looking rather too sweet sweet corn soup. I opted for the latter completely forgetting that the soup is filled with egg white. Yes, despite all the egg white floating in my soup, the thought simply didn’t cross my mind. I’ve been down this road before, and I can’t believe it slipped my mind but it did. With that I had pretty much written out how Friday morning would play out and while I had less than half of the soup as it had cooled down to an unpalatable level of watery sweetness, Friday morning would make me feel as though I’d downed all the soup in the world.

The morning began unsuspectingly well. I had plans for the weekend. Movie plans. Dinner plans. Things to cross of the chores list plans. And not one of those plans came to fruition. Because by around 9am despite having taking my medicine, I was writhing in pain, literally bathed in sweat- a traumatic return to the familiar scene of involuntarily clenched fists courtesy of redirected blood flow and my mum frantically massaging my back. Not pretty and pretty damned painful. I can’t decide whether it’s getting more painful as I get older or if it’s always this horrible and just feels exponentially worse when it strikes after a long break. Probably the latter but knowing that doesn’t make it any more bearable.

When the episode was finally over, I felt like I’d been hit by a ton of bricks, put through the proverbial wringer with all my damp clothes as real world evidence and my joints were convinced they’d just been through torture, Braveheart style. I spent the rest of the day in bed, because I literally had no energy to do anything else except take a shower, nibble on something, return to the washroom, rinse and repeat. The night wasn’t any better because the toll each episode takes on my muscles and joints began to tell and from my arms and my lower back down to my toes, everything from my muscles to my bones was hurting- this deep persistent ache that just wouldn’t go away and left me tossing and turning and praying for a miracle massage to make it all go away. It always surprises me, though by this time it shouldn’t, at how long it takes for my hands to regain a tight grip after an episode. It’s now Sunday and I still can’t seem to clench my fists as tightly as I can on a normal day. But unless I’m planning to punch something in frustration at work today, I should be just fine ^^


(On a completely unrelated note, since I only started chronicling my episodes on my blog recently I love how this is just Episode 7…like I haven’t had this for the last 13 years)

…okay fine I’m feeling bitter and not loving this at all…

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