Whale Poop Vital For The Ocean

I just read an article that was written by Wendy Zuckerman in April of 2010 talking about how whale poop is good for the oceans. When whales poop, the poop creates large quantities of iron, which is what helps carbon-sequestering phytoplankton thrive in the Southern Ocean. Studies have shown that iron is "crucial to ocean health because plankton need it to grow. If you add soluable iron to the ocean, you get instant phytoplankton growth." (Quoted by Stephen Nicol of the Australian Antartic Division, based in Kingston, Tasmania)

Nicol's team studied 27 different samples of poop from four different species of baleen whales, and found that on average whale poop had 10 million times as much iron as Antartic seawater. So whale poop will ultimately increase the amount of CO2 that the Southern Ocean can sequester. Who would have thought that whale poop was so valuable and such a wonderful thing?

Harvard also recently did research on whale poop and suggests that the "liquid fecal matter, rich in nutrients, has a huge positive influence on the productivity of ocean fisheries, Joe Roman, a whale biologist from the University of Vermont and his colleague, James McCarthy from Harvard University, have discovered."

Their discovery, published Oct. 11 in the journal PLoS ONE, is what Roman calls a "whale pump." Whales, they found, carry nutrients such as nitrogen from the depths where they feed back to the surface via their feces. This functions as an upward biological pump, reversing the assumption of some scientists that whales accelerate the loss of nutrients to the bottom.
And this nitrogen input in the Gulf of Maine is "more than the input of all rivers combined," they write, some 23,000 metric tons each year.

"It is well known that microbes, plankton, and fish recycle nutrients in ocean waters, but whales and other marine mammals have largely been ignored in this cycle. Yet this study shows that whales historically played a central role in the productivity of ocean ecosystems -- and continue to do so despite diminished populations."

"We think whales form a really important direct influence on the production of plants at the base of this food web," says McCarthy.

"We found that whales increase primary productivity," Roman says, allowing more phytoplankton to grow, which then "pushes up the secondary productivity," he says, of the critters that rely on the plankton. The result: "bigger fisheries and higher abundances throughout regions where whales occur in high densities," Roman says.

"In areas where whales were once more numerous than they are today, we suggest that they were more productive," say McCarthy.

All of this research is evident to me that whales and whale poop play a more prominent role in ecosystems than once believed. I don't think I'll ever be able to look at a whale again without first remarking on their majestic beauty, but to also know that we must keep them safe, so that our oceans will remain healthy.

Up On The Mountain

Several weeks before Thanksgiving, my boyfriend finally talked me into hiking, which if you have IBS and Fibromyaligia, then you know is not something I was looking forward to, or to be honest thought I would actually be able to accomplish. I get winded going up the stairs too fast sometimes and the thought of hiking a freaking mountain no matter the height, scared the hell out of me. But, on the other hand, I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it and I knew my boyfriend, Mr. Adventure loved this kind of stuff and I wanted to be the girlfriend I used to be.

So, I sucked it up, took a double dose of imodium, got my ass out of bed at the crack of dawn and we drove the four hours to Hanging Rock State Park located in western North Carolina. The weather was beautiful and I love the mountains and the fall, so I was in heaven with the fall colors and the crisp breeze. We got there before anyone else and started the hike up Hanging Rock Mountain. I had my fanny pack (yes, don't freaking laugh, I needed toliet paper just in case and water and all that crap) and we made our way up the mountain hand in hand.

The first twenty minutes were great, we walked up a slight incline and as we got higher up the mountain, the paved road turned into a rocky path and that was when I thought to myself, what the fuck have I just got myself into. I couldn't turn back, I couldn't let my chronic illness win, so I pushed on for another thirty minutes pretending that my body was not in agony. I was out of breath and several times, I thought I might hurl. I was obvioulsy out of shape. I ended up having to stop several times to catch my breath and when we finally got there, I was so glad I really considered bowing down and kissing the rock.

Once we got up to the top, it was well worth the agony and I almost cried because I had finally done something I didn't think I could still do, I also wanted to cry because I knew in order to get off this mountain, we had to go back down. We stayed up on the mounatin for a few hours taking in the majestic view. I admit, I was glad that I up there, I was in my element, high up on the mountain, looking down upon the fall leaves on the trees. I was at such peace. I had just wished that I had room in my fanny pack for a notebook and pen.

Right before we headed back down the mountain, just guess what happened next? Yep, I had to shit and I thought, really? There were people everywhere and I was prepared because I had my tiny roll of TP, but really, why on this beautiful mountain? Why now? I tried to talk some sense into my stomach but it would not quit whining, so my boyfriend and I searched for a secret place where I could do the deed and noone would be able to see. I was thinking to myself that my boyfriend and I should be trying to find a place to have hot, mountain sex, but instead we were searching for a shitting spot. This is so messed up. I wanted sex, not shit!

I scaled the tiny side of the back part of the rock and found a small dip in the rock hidden by trees and right there in the middle of the afternoon, I dropped my jeans and did what I had to do, but I have to say, it was the most beautiful scene I ever shit to. It was breathtaking.

After I finished I walked back around the rock and we headed down the mountain as if it was no big thing. I thought about it while walking back down the mouantin, that back in the day when toliets and port-a-potties didn't exist, people did their business in nature. It made me think about the life cycle. And thinking about this made me feel better. I hadn't just shit on a mountaintop, I helped the environment. I helped the ecosystem and I helped the cycle of life go on. Ok, so I know that sounds kind of stupid, but when you shit as much as me, you have to find the silver lining in everything and I had to stop thinking that my TP was not biodigrabale and think that the other part was.

I thought I would call my deed on the mountain, "the life cycle of Christina's shit," and if I ever came back up on this mountain, then I would hopefully seed a plant in the place of where my shit once laid. And so, the cycle of life goes on, or so mine did on the side of Hanging Rock Mountain.

Fibromyalgia and Death

Fibromyalgia and IBS don't take holidays, breaks and don't care what's on your agenda. I have been in extreme physical pain from my chronic illness since November 9th when my best friend, Michelle was admitted to the hospital after collapsing. She had battled stage four lung cancer for over two years and the cancer was winning.

I sat motionless for six days in a hard, hospital chair on the sixth floor looking out on the world around me through autumnal trees and swirling leaves. I watched as my friend slowly faded before me and through it all I was in so much physical pain from my chronic illness that I did my best to shut it from my mind. I had to be strong for her, for her family and for her three year old son, Grayson. I had to set my illness aside, remove the pain from my mind and be there for my friend during her last days on this earth. I wanted my Fibromyalgia to take a holiday and it wouldn't, even to give me few days to be there for my friend.

I sat with her, held her hand, prayed, sung Amazing Grace and even painted her toenails while she lay motionless in extreme pain. I felt bad that she was laying there before me in the dim evening light in so much pain that she could not even speak but only softly moaned when her morphine was wearing off. I thought of all the times that I have cried and complained because I was in pain and hurting but my pain was nothing in comparison to what she was going through that very moment.

I could not and would not let it be known that to sit for six hours a night in this hard chair, my back was going numb and my feet tingling. Instead, I prayed and asked God to help her and not me. I wanted her to go peacefully to the place that we all dream of going to one day. I told her twenty four hours before she died, sitting beside her bed, that it was ok to go to Heaven now and that God was waiting for her and that when she got there, there would be no more pain and it would be glorious.

I saw what pain she went through the last two and a half years and I felt selfish for even complaining about my back hurting or the fact that I had to shit too many times a day. Here she was in private agony, fighting so hard to win a battle that eventually took over every part of her, her mind and her body, and the day she died, November 15, 2010 at 6:30am, I was ashamned that I felt relieved for her. I felt bad for thinking that I was glad that she was gone and with God, because I knew she would never have to feel pain again and this tiny part of me was jealous. I don't want to die, don't get me wrong, but waking up every day in pain is not only physically draining, but emotionally draining as well. The sadnessI fell now that she is gone is enormous, and it has made my chronic illness worse. I went for Acupuncture and that did not help. I went for a massage and that did not help.

It has been one week since we buried Michelle. Today is Thanksgiving, the day we should be thankful for health, friends and family and I can't help but think of her and I do smile knowing that she is no longer in pain but I miss her terribly and wish she had more time on this earth, with her husband, with her son, and to continue to be my best friend. Today I will be thankful for friends, family, health (even if I have IBS and Fibromyalgia), and most of all, I am thankful for my new guardian angel that I know is watching over me right now. For today, I can rest easy on a soft couch and think of her tonight. Happy Thanksgiving Michelle. May you find peace in Heaven next to God.

(Picture above is titled "Sacred Hour" by Christophe Vacher)

My Fantasy Toilet

I just found out that in Japan they have built a women's restroom that is surrounded by a salt water aquarium on three sides that has swimming fish and a turtle. It's a shitter's heaven. A sanctuary for people like me. And it's only for women. They did not build one for men.

This amazing bathroom is located at Mumin Papa Café in Akashi, Japan and was built in 2007. The owner of the cafe says it cost 30 Million Yen (approx. $270,000 at the time) to build, which is not in the budget of most restaurants. It’s filled with all sorts of exotic fish, including the “famous” male sea turtle that watching women to their business. Surprisingly, many women do not claim it impairs their duty or gives them stage fright. The surrounding aquarium was designed to mimic the feeling of relieving yourself while swimming in the ocean.

This makes me wonder why doctor's offices and people in America have not created one here. For people who suffer from IBS and visit bathrooms often, this type of bathroom would make me much more relaxed and not be so anxious when making multiple trips to the bathroom. I might actually look forward to going to the bathroom for a change. Now instead of reading magazines with stupid gossip or observing ceiling tiles, I can now mingle with the fishes and pretend I'm a mermaid and maybe instead of talking to myself, I'll talk to the turtle.




So if the bathroom cost $270,000 to build, I wonder how much the entrees in that restaurant cost.

Sugar Free Not For Me!!!!!

I decided one day that I would try to eat healthier treats so decided I would buy a bag of sugar free gummy bears. They were so delicious that I ate the entire bag within minutes and my tummy was happy. I was in a fake sugar coma.

A few minutes later and at least once every half-hour for the rest of the day, my tummy WAS NOT HAPPY! I stopped counting after my seventh trip to the bathroom.

What the hell was in the damn gummy bears???? I turned over the bag and read the ingredients. Nothing seemed out of th ordinary except in small letters at the bottom of the bag, it read "Consuming large quantaties may have laxative effect."

Oh, Lord what have I done? How could I have not read the ingredients? I always look at ingredients in foods because I am allergic to milk and Monosodium Glucamate gives me a headache, but not once did I think to research gummy bears and sugar free. They didn't have milk, so I scarfed them down, like a six year-old on Halloween night.

BIG MISTAKE!! Hours of agony ensued and it was the first and last time I ever ate sugar free anything again. I started to check all the bags of sugar free candies and treats and they all said the same thing. So Diabetics must be screwed as well. Why make it sugar free if it's going to be hell for you afterwards? I would rather just get the damn cavity that have this!

If anyone wants to go on a quick diet and lose three pounds in two days or if you are about to have a colonoscopy, no need for laxative pills and that disgusting liquid beverage, instead just grab a bag of delicious sugar free gummy bears and that should do the trick.

I'm stiking to my favorite, Haribo Gummy Bears. They have sugar, but Germans know good sugar, so I'm sticking with the Germans on this one.

Diving In

My boyfriend came home today from a two day trip to see his family. He visited a water park yesterday and had a blast. I am sure he rode everything and slid down every slide. He isn't scared of anything. I can see him on a 50 foot diving board. He wouldn't think twice and would jump with abandonment with a smile on his face.

I was stuck here working while he was out in the sun and in the water, two places that I wanted to be. I was getting ready to put his clothes in the wash. I pulled out his swim trunks from the laundry basket and I could smell the chlorine.

I picked up the swimming trunks, pulled them up to my nose. I closed my eyes and inhaled them for at least a minute. I was eleven again on the swim team, with my professional bathing suit, goggles tight and my family watching. I was about to race through the crystal pool ripples like a dolphin. I was stretching on the edge of the pool on that little mount, ready to hear the buzzer, fling like a bird and fly into the water, flex my legs, stretch my arms and swim.

I smelled his swim trunks just like a mother pulling out her box in the attic of baby clothes. She would hold them to her nose, close her eyes and remember a time that seems so long ago, but at the same time, it seems like just yesterday.

I was young again. I was free, flying in the waves and didn't have any worries. I only cared about the way I felt rushing through the water. My heart was beating fast, and adrenaline knew my name by heart. I was streaming ahead, legs graceful as I did the breast stroke. My hands went to the sides, pushing the water away, pulling down below and them coming back up, taking a breath and dancing in the water.

When I opened my eyes, with his swim trunks in my hands I realized that I was 32 in grey jogging pants and one of my boyfriends old t-shirts. I started to cry. I wanted to be that kid again, laughing with no health problems. I was never tired and loved it. I wanted that rush you got when the swim meet was over and I was so proud holding that ribbon for winning. It didn't even matter if I won, because I just got to swim and that was all that really mattered then.

What matters now is that I have to stand up, put on my bathing suit and walk to the diving board again. I will not be scared of the high dive and I will take the plunge. I will forget about illness and be free again.

We need to walk to end of the board and not look back, but run like an eleven year old would, jump and cannonball.

The Other Stall- Just For Laughs

My friend sent me this hillarious email this morning called "the other stall." It was too funny so I had to include it as one of my blog posts. I hope you laugh as hard as I did when you read the email below.


Traveling down the interstate and needing to use the restroom,
I stopped at a rest area and headed to the restroom.

I was barely sitting down when I heard a voice from the other stall saying:
"Hi, how are you?"

I'm not the type to start a conversation in the restroom and I don't know what got into me,
But I answered, somewhat embarrassed,
"Doin' just fine!"

And the other person says:
"So what are you up to?"

What kind of question is that?
At that point, I'm thinking this is too bizarre so I say:
"Uhhh, I'm like you, just traveling!" ??

At this point I am just trying to get out as fast as I can when I hear another question.
"Can I come over?"

Ok, this question is just too weird for me but I figured I could just be polite and end the conversation. I tell them
"No..I'm a little busy right now!!!"
Then I hear the person say nervously...

"Listen, I'll have to call you back.
There's an idiot in the other stall who keeps answering all my questions

Acupuncture=Acupleasure

A few weeks ago, I had my very first Acupuncture experience with a local pain management clinic in my area. Being the OCD person that I am, I needed to do research first to make sure it would be safe and sanitary before I was going to allow multiple needles to puncture my skin. I was ready, but wanted to make sure I did my research first.

Acupuncture is an ancient form of healing and goes back so far, it can not be given an official date of inception. It is believed however that it could have started as long as 8,000 years ago and is rooted in the Taoist philosophy. The people of this time were in tune with nature and the energy that both the universe and the human body expelled. A Chinese man named Fu Hsi is believed to be the one who after his observations of nature and man, believed that two symbols existed in nature, a broken line and an unbroken line, which represented the two major forces in the universe. They stood for creation and recreation. This is what we know today as the yin-yang symbol. This is essentially when the beginning of Chinese medicine began.

During the Shang Dynasty in China, in approximately 1000 BC, hieroglyphs showed that Acupuncture existed. Bronze needles were removed from ruins. During the Warren Era between 421-221 BC, metal needles were also found in ancient tombs.

Acupuncture continued through the years to grow in popularity among the people and it wasn't until the Ming Dynasty (1568-1644) also called the enlightenment period that Acupuncture advanced. This includes the techniques, manipulation of needles during Acupuncture, the development of Moxa sticks for indirect treatment, and additional areas of the body were identified as meridians.

There was a time during the Opium Wars, and the Revolution of 1911 that Acupuncture was set to the side so traditional forms of medicine could be used, but starting back in 1934 through today Acupuncture is rooted not only in Chinese, but American culture as well. China still leads the way in Acupuncture research, treatment and in the Chinese medical system.

Now that I had all the facts, or as much as I needed to know, I was ready to have my treatment. I do have to make a confession, I did take an Imodium just in case I freaked out because my biggest fear was that what if I have all these needles in my back and then right there, the sudden urge to shit would come on. Then I had this fear of then ripping all the needles out as fast as they could so I could get to the bathroom, so I just took a deep breath, inspected the area for cleanliness and it passed inspection.

The wonderful doctor spent a long time talking with me first about my many ailments and issues and he decided that needles in the top and bottom of my spine along with elctro-stimulation would work best. He even demonstrated with a needle to show me how flexible and small there are. You can even tie one in a knot. Ok, I can handle this. If I can pass a kidney stone, I can handle this.

I laid flat on a table much like a massage table and he started popping the needles in one by one and I thought it would hurt, but I only felt one needle which was one put in the top of my left butt cheek. They removed that one and kept all the rest. I was laying there with 25 needles in my back. It was weird. Then they attached electrodes to two needles as you can see in this picture below and turned on the electro-stimulation, which felt like tiny pulses running through my back. I was relaxed and at ease.



They turned on a timer and I enjoyed twenty minutes of Acupuncture. Afterwards they applied a blue, topical pain cream that smelled like Bengay and did a bit of touch massage. I left the office feeling invigorated. The following day, I did feel a little sore, but after two days, I noticed that I had a lot less back pain and I slept great that night.

I was so impressed that I am having another Acupuncture treatment today and will continue to have this treatment once a month along with my usual massage ever few months. I urge you, if you have back pain, IBS or Fibromyalgia, that you try Acupuncture at least once. I am so glad I did!

(Acupuncture information taken from the website-http://www.acufinder.com/Acupuncture+Information/Detail/The+History+of+Acupuncture)

The Energy & Power Of Crystals

For someone who suffers from multiple ailments, I have searched high and low for alternatives for pain and insomnia. These include having massages, ear candling, ionic foot baths, using essential oils, Rheki, Yoga, Meditation, and most recently laying on the floor in agony praying to God, but I found that one didn't work as well as I had hoped. I have also bought special pillows, egg crates for the bed, linen spray that evokes restful sleep, and I tried wearing magnetic bracelet, all with no luck.

I have even paid money to visit a Holistic Healer, because I was so desperate to feel better. I would have paid any amount of money to have the pain eliminated from my body. I wanted a non-medication alternative and I would stop at nothing to find it. I visited my friend, Terri who was a Holistic Healer. I was very sick at the time and was throwing up almost every day. My body was all out of whack, so I called her up and asked her to help me. She used the energy from my body and by asking me questions and placing her hand on my feet, hands, wrists and by holding her hand over my stomach, she was able to get answers from my body. This was weird for me that my debilitating body was speaking to her with its energy, or I should say lack of energy and that there was no hope for me. I was surprised that my sick energy didn't make her tell me to get up and leave. The energy in my body told her that my gallbladder was not working and a few months later I was in surgey having it removed because it had stopped working months before. Terri saved my life.

I also get regular massages. The most wonderful massage I ever got was from a lady named Lisa who was my friend and what I would consider an old soul. She had fire red hair that was curly and it was like I had met her in a former life or something and I felt as if I had known her for years. I liked that strange connection I felt when I met her. I was relaxed and at ease.

I laid on the massage table and above the table was a skylight. The room was dark and cool and it started to rain. The tapping of rain on the skylight and the smell of spearmint and lavender comforted me and I began to go into this place inside me that was calm and peaceful. I was also very relaxing and healing for me. I think it was the mixture of essential oils, rain and that I had finally found a massuse that could pull the pain out of my body. This is when I realized that energy healing existed. To me anyway, it was real and I believed that it would help heal me from within.


A few months ago, I stumbled across a packet of healing crystals that came in a decorate box along with a book on the power of crystal healing. I figured it was worth the $10.00 and worth a try. The box contained 10 healing crystals which were supposed to balance the chakras in my body to promote balance and healing.

The word Chakra is derived from the Sanskrit word meaning "wheel." Chakras are wheels of continuous energy that rotate at different centers of our body. It begins at the base of the spine and finishes at the top of the head. Each Chakra is stimulated by its own color and each crystal emulates this energy. The colors of the stones are red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet.



Our Chakra wheels of colors vary depending on our physical conditions, energy levels, disease and stress. This made me think that I must be a dull canvas of white so I needed to get all my colors on the board or at least find a few of them. The crystals are intended to heal you and help balance your chakras. Below I have listed each of the ten crystals and a bit about each stone's intended effects.

1. Yellow Moonstone- This crystal attracts love, is good for hormone imbalances and menstural cramps.
2. Black Obsidian- This crystal is good for emotional cleansing and releasing old, harmful habits.
3. Rose Quartz- This crystal brings love into your life, it's good for heart disease, the blood and circulation. It also helps keep peace and happiness in relationships.
4. Dark Blue Sodalite- This crystal helps heal or release negative emotions such as anxiety, nervousness, anger, fear, guilt, or shame. It also brings peaceful sleep when put under the pillow while sleeping.
5. Tiger's Eye- This crystal helps keep your thoughts clear, specific and in the realm of reality. It also helps with focus, concentration.
6. Purple Amethyst- This crystal is useful in calming stress and healing addictions.
7. Soft Yellow Calcite- This crystal cleanses the energy field and is good for meditation.
8. Soft Brown Carmelian- This crystal ground your energy and focuses your attention into the present, thus giving you personal power, also encourages you and gives your endurance.
9. Green Aventurine- This crystal strengthens intuition, eyesight and foresight. It also brings you good luck.
10. Clear Quartz- This crustal is the MOTHER OF ALL STONES. It's a receiver, amplifier, conductor and generator of energy. It's linked with good health, balance, healing, meditation, knowledge, clear thinking and protection from outside influences.

So after careful study of all the crystals, I was confused as hell and knew I needed all the crystals to heal me but figures I need the mother of all of them so I began with the Clear Quartz.

I lay on the floor in a quiet room. I had to believe that this crystal would help balance my chakras promoting health and a sense of well being. I laid on the floor held the clear stone in the palm of my left hand because its believed that the spirits travel from left to right. I waited, and waited and waited and thought that maybe my spirit energy was confused and didn't ask for directions. I tried to speak to the Crystal and asked it nicely to make my back pain go away and to help me feel better. It said to listen to your body and you can hear what its telling you and that you must trust and follow your own intuitions.

After twenty minutes, and a sweaty palm of Clear Quartz later, all I felt was the urge to pee and a pain in my lower back. Wonder what I did wrong? My boyfriend came into the room and looked at me as if I had gone to lala land. I continued to seek energy but I have to say so far, not much has happened. It was a neat experience and I will continue to work on balancing my chakras, but for now, I'll stick with Imodium and water.

Tomorrow I am having Acupuncture for the first time so maybe that will be the thing that works the best, I'll tell you all about that one tomorrow.

Insomnia Cures

Did you know that 70 million Americans suffer from sleep disorders and at least 32 million of those people suffer from Insomnia? Insomnia is defined by Merriam-Webster's dictionary as "prolonged and usually abnormal inability to obtain adequate sleep." (circa 1623-www.merriamwebster.com)

I also researched Insomnia online and found out that out of people age 15-55, 20-40% encounter insomnia problems during a year time and 10 million people have to take medications for insomnia. I also learned that a person with insomnia only sleeps six hours of less daily and that Americans sleep 20% less than we did 100 years ago?
(www.sleepcottage.com/insomnia-stats/)

I think this last bit of information is totally true, because we have become a nation of technology with cell phones, computers, I-pads and video games. 100 years ago, people were too busy staking their land, building their houses, raising families, hunting for food and hanging the clothes on the line to dry. Children played outside in fresh air, swaying from fat, oak trees and when the day was done, they were so exhausted that they never had problems with sleep.

Our society now is so much more mentally challenged and we have so much shit floating around in our heads at night that we have to take a pill to shut off the receptors. It's like taking a "shut the hell up so I can sleep pill." I am one of those people. Doctors believe that Fibromyalgia is caused by receptors in the brain that tell your body (nerves) constantly that you're in pain and we have to take a pill so we can shut them up and get some much needed rest.

The top three countries with Insomnia sufferers are:
1. The United States (too many Starbucks is my reason why)
2. Germany (too much rich food and learning that language is enough to make me not sleep) and
3. The United Kingdom

I decided to poll all my friends to see how they pass the time when dealing with Insomnia.
I have listed the responses in order:
1. Read a book
2. Get on facebook
3. Watch television
4. Relaxation and/or meditation (on I-phone and/or cell phone)
5. Toss and turn
6. Listen to music and/or book on CD
7. Write
8. Listen to Dr. Weil Meditation program
9. Sort our problems in their head
10.Do a crossword puzzle
11.Eat ice cream and
12 Iron

So whether you're reading a book, listening to meditation, watching TV, or just tossing and turning, know that you're not alone and feel better knowing that at least 32 million other people are doing that same exact thing. This got me thinking that maybe I should plan a rave party and call it the Insomnia Rave and all my friends who find themselves up at 3am can come over to my rave and we can move to the beat and sweat out the insomnia. What a great party that would be!

Searching For Sleep

It's typical for people with Fibromyalgia to suffer from Insomnia or lack of sleep. Many nights for me are spent tossing, turning and searching in the darkness for sleep. On average, I am only asleep about two to three hours at one time and then keep waking up. I wake up, roll over, squint at the clock and count to myself, "only two more hours of sleep," or I say "Damn, only ten more minutes of sleep," and then I do my best to go back to sleep.

I feel like a soldier trenched in the weight on my back, night vision goggles on, gun in hand, wading in mud for sleep. I know it's there, right around the corner, but I'm afraid if I sneak up on it too soon, it will run far away and I may not find it for days. So I crouch low down to the ground, silent in the night and there beyond the moon in the sky, I think I see it, but them again without my contacts in, it's a faint black blob, but I still know it's there.

I also search for sleep in my pillow hoping it knows the trick and can help or I change the small blanket over my comforter, because sometimes I need a certain comforter weight to sleep well. I also turn the temperature down close to 68 degrees so I can snuggle under the covers. Maybe sleep is under the covers? Who knows, but last night as I searched there, all I found was a penny and my boyfriend farted. But no sleep.

So I wait, sitting up in bed, staring into the nothingness, waiting for you to come to me, to dust my eyes with "sand man" dust and sometimes I find myself softly singing the tune to you lulling you to come to me,

"Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream, make him the cutest
that I've ever seen."

Then after that I find myself singing all the fifties songs I can think of and yesterday I watched the movie Mermaids, so I started singing,

"Does he love me? I wanna know, How can I tell if he loves me so? Is it in his kiss?"

This proved to be a hopeless endeavor, so I just gave-up and waited for morning to come singing tunes to myself. Tomorrow I'm going to download the whole Mermaids Soundtrack, because it rocks!

Sleep- I want you! I need you. I can't get enough of you. I deserve you, so why won't you let me in your splendor, like an infant just off the breast, full of warm milk, eyes slowly closing, heavy breaths entering sleepy land and hands limp with dream. I want that kind of sleep, warm, happy, a deep restful sleep, where you and the bed become one. I imagine it's like lying on a big, puffy cloud, cradling me for at least 8-10 hours in its blue, hypnotic haze.

Traveling with IBS

I've been thinking a lot lately about the hassles of traveling when one suffers from IBS. I think about this a lot during the summer because this is the glorious time for vacations, long rides in the car, trips to far-off destinations and long walks on the beach. I am reminded of a time just last year when a traveling trip went horribly wrong and IBS was the culprit. It's embarrassing to say the least, but maybe once you read about it, you can relate. So here is my humiliating tale of traveler's woe.

Last fall, my boyfriend got stuck without a ride in Myrtle Beach. I had just enjoyed a dinner of greasy food and a large iced tea and was gearing up for a night of watching movies and enjoying a nice evening alone, when the phone rang at 9pm.
Craig needed me to pick him up. Now mind you, Myrtle Beach was close to four hours away and not particularly something I wanted to do. I'm not sure why I didn't just make him take the bus (probably because that thought didn't cross my mind). I put on my comfy driving clothes, grabbed our dog for safety, put gas in the car, grabbed a roll of TP (just in case) and headed down the lonely stretch of country road toward the beach.

About forty-five minutes into my journey, just me and the dog, my stomach started rumbling and doing its usual flip-flop. I thought it was just nerves because I don't enjoy driving at night and I would be driving into bumfuck. If you saw some of the areas you have to go, visions of any scary movie would come to mind.

A few moments later the urge to vomit came over me and I had to lurch the car onto the side of the road and wretched for ten minutes while the dog looked at me in horror. Whatever greasy meal I had eaten was now out of me or so I thought. I pulled myself together and made it another thirty minutes into a tiny town where I threw up again this time in a park barely having enough time to open the car door. Next I threw up another thirty minutes down the way in a church parking lot. I was a hot mess and crying and I was already half-way to the beach, so there was no way I was leaving Craig without a ride. I had come this far, I just had to keep going. I started downing Pepto pills and praying that I would not throw up anymore. The dog I think was worried about me. he kept looking at me with funny looks.

Well after four Pepto pills and a few sips of coke, guess what happened? No, not puking this time, just imagine. It was already midnight and I was driving down a two lane road in the middle of freaking nowhere when the urge to go to the bathroom was so severe that I wasn't sure what I was going to do, so I once again lurched the car over to the shoulder of the road, turned the headlights off, pushed the dog in the back seat and jumped in the passenger seat, barely getting my butt out the car door before all hell broke loose. So as embarrassing as it is to be reminded actually happened to me, it's even more embarrassing that I'm actually telling you all about it right now.

Even though I was alone on a desolate stretch of wood with my ass hanging out the side of the door, an actual big truck was coming right this way. First I was scared he would see me with my ass hanging out the car door and then I was so scared he would think I needed help so I cleaned up as fast as I could and jumped out the car and headed over to the driver side to get back in and head to the beach.

Thinking that my night could get no worse, it did. I went to pull the door handle to get in my side of the car and it was locked. To make matters worse, the car was running with my cell phone and dog inside. How the hell did I manage to get myself into this predicament? Ahh, yes I remember now, I have freaking IBS and today it was beating the shit out of me, literally from all ends. I just broke down and cried in the middle of the freaking night with my dog pressing his face up to the window looking at me like I was in sane.

Then I began to think of all the horror movies that I had watched and I thought about all the jethro-looking men in trucks that would come kidnap me and all that would be left would be my running car, a barking dog and pile of shit next to it. Maybe the police would come and think that I had run away from the embarrassment alone. When he saw what had taken place he would have laughed at me, then I would be the laughing stock of Hicksville.

I looked up to the heaven and the stars, put my hands in the air and yelled REALLY! Then I prayed that there was a rock somewhere because I was not going to let IBS win this time. I would find a way to get in that car if I had to use my damn shoe to break the window. I walked over to the other side of the car avoiding you know what and HAIL MARY, the passenger door was not all the way shut, so I jumped for joy, jumped over my shit and jumped back in my car and cried even harder, I was just so happy to be back in my car. I had forgotten that I could still be kidnapped but I had hoped the stench of my shit would be both a killer and bear deterrent.

I started back on the road and one hour and thirty minutes later, I hugged my boyfriend and told him about my incredible story of what I had to go through and four hours after that, we finally made it back home. I was exhausted, and annoyed and so happy to be home. I told Craig if that ever happened again, he better learn to hitchhike, cause this ass ain't going to pick him up no matter what.
But Looking back on now, I really do believe that ship happens and you just have to learn to deal with it, the good, bad and the super ugly trips to hell and back.

Daymares

Today I had a daymare. What you ask is a daymare. It's like a nightmare, but since I never sleep it's a nightmare that happens in the middle of the day.

This morning, I was totally exhausted from no sleep last night and after drinking a cup of hot tea followed by a cup of coffee, I was still feeling drained. Trying my best to pay attention to the task at hand, but off in this drift-away land, it happened. A minute ago I was typing and working on brochures and then moments later, my leg tapping the side of my desk was the daymare. I was now wide awake, half jittery from the coffee and scared as hell!

A horrible, realization came over me and I realized that if my boyfriend were to ever leave me for another woman, I would be single and in flashing lights I saw my classified ad in the singles section. My mouth flew open; I let out a gasp and became totally freaked. I thought to myself, this can never happen, ever!!

It read like this
"Single, mid-thirties, likes short walks on the beach, back massages, caffeine, regular doses of pills, likes complaining, and enjoys food as longs as it's doesn't make me shit. Also likes sex as long as it's in the position I desire, hot bubble baths and long, luxurious naps. Dislikes sitting too long, going out, hours of sex, working, being responsible, staying up late, doing drugs, drinking, running, exercising and chores."

It was in this daymare, that I realized if I were ever single again, I would have not one, but at least twelve strikes against me.
So it was apparent that I would never get another man and as I sat there newly awakened from this daymare, I wanted to cry.

I never used to be that person. I mean, I never saw myself over thirty, let alone, over thirty, un-married, no kids and living with not one, but two chronic illnesses. And now here I was with this huge, fat reality check on my forehead staring me in the face. The face where, just a few weeks ago, I found a hair growing from my chin and several new gray hairs that emerged from my "needs to be dyed" hair.

I know some people say that being an adult and being over thirty sucks, but this is freaking ridiculous and I think I would rather have nightmares, because at least when I wake up from them, I can go back to sleep, and sometimes you forget them all together, but with daymares, It's only 11am and I have six more hours of work to do and lots of deadlines.

Destinations

Some people while driving, text, talk on their cells, sing, or speed delightfully toward their next destination. They have no worry, no fear, and no nerves. The just enjoy traveling the open road, being adventurous and not caring what lies around the next curve or mountain. They can take off their watches, steer the car toward miles of country and be glad that the sky is blue and the weather is grande.
This used to be me. I loved getting in the car and traveling whether it was for twenty minutes, five hours or just around the block. There was something about being in control and steering the car toward something, a goal, a destination, a party, or even to nowhere. Lazy summer afternoons were spent riding and gazing at country, beautiful trees, cotton fields and nature. It was a beautiful time. My mom and I used to travel by car to Vermont each fall to see Grandma.



Vermont is the most beautiful scenery I have ever seen, lush, green pastures dotted with cobalt blue Silos, cows grazing in pastures and miles of nothing but beauty. It was and is still breathtaking to me. The fall gave way to wet leaves and the distant smell of maple syrup and wheat lingered on your tongue.

When I first started dating my boyfriend, he lived in his car. His clothes were neatly organized in rows in his trunk and we spent many of those first few years together driving in the country, the city and the outskirts of towns or a quick trip to the beach. After work, we grabbed a bite to eat, took off the T-tops in his 87’ MR2 and cruised down long, winding, desolate roads. We stopped in lonely tobacco fields and walked around for hours exploring old barns and enjoying the fresh air on our virgin cheeks. I felt alive and in love. Those are glorious memories for me, that I always think back on and smile.

My problem is that since I developed IBS and Fibromyalgia, these drives no longer are pleasant, blissful moments, but plotted and planned out itineraries that involve bathrooms stops, breaks and maps. I count miles between exits and always look to see what bathrooms, restaurants and gas stations each exit has. Sometimes when my tummy is giving me fits, I wonder if I should have stopped just then and I hope that I can make it to the next exit. The “just jumping in the car” moments I fear are gone forever. I want them back. I want to gladly jump in the car with my sweetie and hit the open road and not find myself counting miles, and minutes until the next “destination.” I want to sit on the beach anywhere where no one goes so we can sit alone together, but instead I have to sit near the public restroom, just in case. Why? Because IBS doesn’t care if it’s 63 miles to a rest stop or if one is just up ahead. It doesn’t wait for stoplights or traffic on the highway and it sure as hell doesn’t care about trains. It has a mind of its own and it’s getting in my way. And it’s pissing me off.

I want to enjoy destinations again. I want to enjoy open roads, sitting in the Daffodil field until the sun has left and it’s just the two of us under the moonlight.



I don’t want to get up and leave but stay there with you for hours and once again it can be like it was when your hand was in mine and we went to the schoolyard playground and swung on the swings until our legs hurt till 2am. I want to camp with you again, in a big tent, nowhere near a bathroom, roasting marshmallows over a crackling fire and laughing with you until my belly hurts, but in a good way.

This is what I want and I will get it back. So open roads, cotton fields and desolate beaches, you better wait for me, because I’m going to come back real soon. Just writing this makes me want to grab the picnic basket and big beach towel with the blue dolphin, pack the trunk, pop a couple Imodium and play hookie tomorrow.

The Beginning: How I was diagnosed

When I was young, I was full of energy. I exercised regularly, danced three days a week, taught gymnastics and aerobics. I was the energizer bunny. When I started college and stress and deadlines took over, I stopped exercising to be a college student and worked part-time as a waitress. Over the course of my college years, I gradually became more and more tired and started developing stomach issues. I felt like I had the flu all the time. My doctor diagnosed me with IBS (Irritable Bowel Syndrome) and gave me medication which helped some. I still got frequent headaches, stomach-aches, flu-like symptoms and continued to feel sick the majority of the time. I knew that something wasn’t quite right, but just shrugged it off and blamed it on working too hard in school and stress.

Seven years later and ten pounds lighter I was just as tired and weak as ever. I had been to every kind of doctor I could think of for answers. I was tested for Lupus, Lyme disease, Lymphoma, Cancer, Celiac Disease, Leukemia every other condition known to man and even tested psychologically (as if I really wanted to make up all these symptoms). Only after the removal of my gallbladder, losing a job due to illness and two years on unemployment, I decided I had had enough. I broke down in the doctor’s office and told them something was wrong, that I couldn’t go on like this anymore. This is when I was diagnosed with a chronic pain condition called Fibromyalgia.

Fibromyalgia is characterized by chronic, wide-spread pain in the muscles, ligaments and tendons. Everything hurts. Your back hurts, muscles tender to the touch and you have trouble doing many tasks that healthy people can do with no problems like walking, running, exercising, sitting for long periods of time and even sleeping. At the end of every day, I feel as if I just finished running a marathon.

A lot of women go years living with this pain before they get diagnosed with the condition because Fibromyalgia can mimic many other conditions like insomnia, the flu, stress, etc, so many women just dealt with the pain for years just thinking it was all in their head. Women who have Fibromyalgia also suffer from IBS, numbness in hands and feet, palpitations, sleep disturbances, and migraine headaches. The pain can increase with activity, cold or damp weather, anxiety, and stress. I was 31 when I was first diagnosed with the condition. I had spent 1/3 of my life with issues that many doctors just called stress.

I listened to my inner voice and got help.
After my diagnosis, I decided to not lie down and die, but continue to live life to the best of my ability. I even started this support blog chronicling my life living with both IBS and Fibromyalgia, because I want other women to know that they are not alone and that we can find ways to deal with the pain, and live as normal a life as possible whether we have IBS, Fibromyalgia or any other chronic condition.



I try to be kind to my body and de-stress as much as possible. I read more books, take lots of bubble baths and try to relax as much as possible. I have learned through this whole ordeal that I have to take care of me first. I used to spread myself to thin and always said yes to event or activity, but I have learned that it’s ok to say no. I get massages regularly, I get plenty of rest and I take it easy when I’m having a flare-up. Although I know that I’ll have to plan my life out more than a healthy person, I may not be able to do the same energetic things I once did and I may sleep more hours a night that the average person, but I know this is ok. I can still function and be positive. I am a person with a full agenda and I won’t let my pain get in the way.

Conversations With Myself

Some people talk to their plants because they believe that if they do, their plants with grow stronger and taller. Some people talk to their animals, because they consider them like a child. Some people have multiple personalities and talk to themselves. When I was little, I was terrified of thunder and lightning storms. I used to take my brown bear, Teddy, hide myself away in the closet and talk to myself, hum or sing loudly until it went away and I was safe again. So I guess I still do this, but instead of thunderstorms, I am terrified of IBS and Fibromyalgia.

I admit that I too talk to my dog all the time and I even find myself talking to the picture of my dead cat, Sopopdopolis. I also have conversations with myself, but not the multiple personality kind. I talk to my body. I ask it to behave before an interview, or I ask it to settle down and be nice so I can enjoy a nice meal out with friends. I talk to my muscles and tell them to behave as well. When my back is hurting so bad that the thought of sitting hurts, I talk to my back, reason with it, plead with it and promise that tomorrow or next week, I'll have a deep tissue massage and it can thank me then.

Sometimes I plead with my stomach when I have cramps asking it to calm down. When I am sitting in the car about to leave for a trip however small or long it will be, I tell me stomach that if it can just behave and not act up until we get to where we are going that I will reward it with a cookie or a stick of gum. I know this sounds weird, but you know you talk to yourself to, you may not be able to admit it to yourself. I bet you're even talking out loud right now telling yourself that you do not in fact talk to yourself. (kinda scary huh?)

I know you must be thinking that this is all strange. I know that talking to my body will not make it grow stronger, taller or last longer, it's just my way of getting though living day-to-day with IBS and Fibromyalgia. I guess you can say that I am talking to myself to get through the inner thunderstorms and that a calm voice makes it go away faster. I just grab another Imodium, swallow it down and continue conversations with myself. Maybe tomorrow I'll try singing.

Fibromyalgia- Living in Hell with a Bay Window to Heaven

I am in love with the most vivacious and alive person that you have ever met. He has not one aching, dull bone in his body. He can jump out of bed after a mere four hours sleep and sing in the shower. He can work an exhausting 12 hour work day in 100 degree heat lifting, stretching, truly working “hard” and he can come home and still want to go on the town with the energy of a twenty year old.

I am jealous but more than that I am afraid! I am afraid that one day he will walk away and leave me. Not because he does not love and adore me, but that he will leave me because I am no longer vivacious and fun. I am a 32 year-old with the body of a 75 year-old. This scares the hell out of me!

I want his energy. I want to make love to him all night long and wake naked in his arms, and after no sleep feel alive again.



I want to feel what he feels, but I cannot. I only feel pain, and more pain. I work at a job where I am surrounded by air conditioning and chair rests and after working a eight hour day, doing nothing but sitting in a chair with a computer in my face, I am so exhausted that I can barely move and I wonder how this is possible and then I see my sweet boyfriend and I find myself always complaining about the aching, pain and sleepiness and after what, eight hours of air conditioning after he has endured a day with none.
I feel ashamed that I feel this way and wonder if the future will be different and better. Living with Fibromyalgia is like living in hell with a bay window to heaven.

The Worst Place To Be

Most Bulimics obsess about food, anorexics obsess about exercise and alcoholics obsess about the next drink. Imodium addicts obsess about shit, literally. I obsess about food and what it will do to me once I've eaten it and I obsess about whether or not too much exercise will cause stomach cramps and I obsess about what will happen if I decide to have wine with dinner. Then I obsess about how long it will be until my next shit and I pray that it will be a painless experience. This makes me think of all the places I hope I'm never at when those debilitating stomach cramps take over and my ass is screaming for a bathroom.

Here are my top twenty places I hope I am never at when shit comes knocking at my door:
1. Stuck in an elevator
2. On the Subway
3. On a roller coaster. I'm sorry for the people who may be under me if this were to ever happen.
4. In a Taxi just starting the drive over the Golden Gate Bridge
5. At school taking a timed test like the SAT or MAT
6. Making love
7. Half way to the top of a lighthouse
8. On a date
9. Meeting someone famous. I can see it now. Oh, hello Rob Pattison. I am so happy to finally meet you. I love you, wait, oh wait, I'll be right back. I think in this occasion I may just shit myself not from stomach cramps but from the thrill. So not sure if this one counts.
10. Hiking in the mountains
11. Dancing on stage- Oh wait a minute- already did that one when I was twelve. I think I'll forget this one all together.
12. On a Gondola
13. On a boat with no bathroom
14. Rock climbing
15. In the tanning bed right after the start button turns on
16. Getting a massage or a seaweed body wrap
17. At the top of a snow covered mountain about to ski down.
18. Stuck at a train crossing, twenty cars back.
19. In the middle of an interview
20 And lastly the worst of all on your wedding day minutes before you are to walk down the isle.

Can you name some places that you think would be the worst place to be when stomach cramps happen to you?

What Was I Thinking? Zumba Anyone?

My neighbor recently invited me to join her in a Zumba aerobics class. Zumba uses Latin and salsa dancing and is not as painful on the joints as a high impact aerobics class would be. I being the past dancer and avid night clubber, thought that this may be a good opportunity to get back into exercising and may be a good way to get the small amount of exercise that my doctor recommended. With my twenty minute gym tour over and fresh, crisp seven day pass in hand, I was ready.

All I can say is what the hell was I thinking? I haven't exercised in over ten years and other than the occasional night of dancing at the club, I have put exercise on the back burner, really for fear of pain or that I am already in so much pain that the thought of moving my body that much makes me feel pain.

The class started off with great music with pulsating Latin beats and deep stretching in a small room surrounded by twenty women and 85 degree heat. Right after the first song ended, the lean, instructor put her hands in the air and everyone yelled "Zumaba." Oh, Lord help me!

I did pretty good and loved being one with music again. I swayed to the Latin beat, sweating buckets, but a part of me that had been dead for so long started to come alive, one samba beat and waist shake at a time. It was exhilarating, fun and I felt free again. I felt alive if only for that one hour. I loved the movements, butt shaking, hands moving and the motion my body made.

I felt twenty again, on a stage under hot lights, crowds of people looking at me. I'm swaying across the stage moving the layers of my colorful samba skirt, black paten heels, digging into the floor and I am smiling. I had to come back to reality, but was impressed at how much dancing came back to me. It made its way back into my soul. I didn't want it to end, other than the fact that after one hour, I started to feel my sweating body start to harden.


After class, I walked out with my head held high and I felt like me for the first time in years. But that glorious endorphin high was just that, a quick moment of splendor followed by a night of grueling and searing pain. Every muscle, bone and ligament in my body ached and screamed for mercy. I apologized to my body telling it I was sorry for doing that, and tried to explain to my muscles that it will never happen like that again.

I loved the Zumba class, but I couldn't walk for three days and still just thinking about that pain, makes my neck twinge. So my seven day gym pass turned into a one day trip back to never never land. At least I still have my dreams that can take me back to Dance, Samba, Zumba amd any other dance where the beat fills me with rythme and life lives in me once again.

It's Not All In My Head- It's In My Ass!

You know what I hate more than anything? I hate when doctors, friends, co-workers and family think that the painful stomach cramps and debilitating bouts of toilet hell I suffer from, is all in my head. Seriously, do you think I want cramps so bad, I feel like I could puke? Do you think I like having to cancel dinner plans or tickets to a concert in the park because I want to sit on my couch in my pajamas playing the harmonica? Wake the fuck up people! This is not a joke, this is not make believe, this is my shitty life. It's real and raw and it's not in my head, it's in my ass, and so much of it is in my ass and then out my ass that I sometimes wonder how that much stuff can come out of it. And then I wonder how it that is possible when all I had to eat the entire day was a banana and some toast.

I'm not lying when I say I can't come to your house today because I know sixty people are coming to your party and you only have one bathroom, or that I can't go to the secluded beach with you for six hours, because six hours with no bathroom for me is torture in itself. This problem was not created by aliens, however I would gladly go to their planet if they could cure me of this ailment. I would gladly give them anything they wanted. I might even consider being their test monkey if they could be the ones shitting and not me. I have a mad stomach, that is all.

The best way I can describe my IBS is to tell you it's like the Ocean. A person who has a sluggish digestive system would have an Ocean with very few waves. They would actually be considered as having lake current, not ocean current and people like me have ocean currents equivalent to Hawaii- freaking huge waves that have no mercy. They take you in a vortex of hell, roll you around until you're choking from the pain and right before the wave is over, it sucks you down one last time for a final fuck you. So the next person that wants to tell me that this "little problem" is all in my head, can come to my house because I may just sneak you some Ex-lax in your brownie and let you see that the shit ain't so pretty when it's coming out of you. Not that I think about it, I should be dating a surfer!

CoCo Scum

As a child, mom and I used to have this fun thing she would say to me every time I asked "What's up mom?" She would always smile and say CoCo scum, which is saying that life is like the scum at the bottom of the Hot chocolate cup. Not great, but livable. I always loved when she said that. Mom is always the realist in the family; I mean someone has to be the responsible one! Well living life as a 32 year-old with both IBS and Fibromyalgia, pretty much most days I would call CoCo scum days. Lined with shit, literally. So today I am home sick, with a cold, sniffles, sitting on my brown couch (which looks kinda like the color of CoCo scum) still in my blue pajamas, remote in one hand, tissue in the other. See, when a normally healthy person gets a cold, it's just that, a cold. It only lasts a few days and you get your energy back and things go back to normal. Well not for people with Fibromyalgia. It's like we have all these catalysts that live in us and when we get sick, one thing causes another thing, like dominos falling down. A cold for us can easily last seven days and your limited energy level has turned into a snail's pace crawl. It's pathetic and depressing. I find myself looking out the window, watching people run with their I-Pod's sweating, and I remember the time I was an Aerobics instructor at the YMCA with tight abs, and energy for days. I danced in school and after school and taught gymnastics and Aerobics when I was young and now I stand at the bottom of the stairs and dread having to walk up them because I know when I get to the top, I'll be tired. And then I think, that is so not fair. I want my life back. I want to feel that energy rush that you get after a great workout and the way I felt after dancing a five minute non-stop ballet, I felt alive and now I feel dead! I want to be that energizer bunny! I wonder when CoCo scum will turn into a silver lining. Didn't mean to drag you down, but we Fibro-women are not alone and we can ban together. We can take the low rode- the quiet walk around the lake, take things slow and steady. Smell the flowers, not run past them. So I am putting the CoCo-rimmed cup in the dishwasher and doing my best to enjoy life as the turtle, and accepting that I am no longer the bunny, because we all remember the saying that slow and steady always wins the race, sniffles and all.

The Poo Poo Chart (Yes- It's real)

A few years ago, while I was at my first gastroenterology appointment, I was introduced to the Bristol Stool Chart, or what others would call the shit chart. The large colorful poster was displayed on the exam room wall and I was asked to rate my poo, yes that is what I said, rate my poo. The Bristol Stool chart consists of seven different types of shit:
1. Hard, lumpy nuts (hard to pass)
2. Sausage shaped,with lumps
3. Like a Sausage but with cracks on the surface
4. Like a Sausage or snake, smooth and soft
5. Soft blobs with clear-cut edges
6. Fluffy pieces, or mushy shit
7. Watery with no solid pieces
So once I told the doctor that my shit was a cross between a 6 and 7, I was at a loss for words, which almost never happens to me. I had just paid a $60.00 co-pay to share my shit shape with a person. This has never been, until now a topic of conversation. But after careful observation of Bristol Stool chart graphs, I can no longer eat Sausage, nuts or cotton candy without thinking of the shit chart and I always think of shit when I see a snake or a big fluffy cloud. "Hey see that fluffy cloud up there, it's not a cirrus cloud, it's a Bristol shit #6." So now go home tonight and see what yours looks like. This is the stuff they don't teach you in school, and I'm sure you're glad you now know.

Bathroom Stalls

As an avid shitter, I have seen my fair share of restrooms and bathroom stalls and over time, I have developed a system of things you can do why incapacitated on public potty.
1.) Count tile squares in ceiling. Much like counting sheep.
2.) Count floor tiles. Try to figure out the patterns, different textures and color schemes. Note to self- liked the small blue tiles that I saw once in beach hotel. Pretty! I think they were glass.
3.) Create new song lyrics. Repeat so that you don't forget. Singing out loud is optional.
4.) Create grocery list, dinner menu, daily to-do list, poems, stories, etc.
5.) Daydream- My favorite
6.) Courtesy flush at least once, or twice if stinky. Be kind to bathroom neighbors.
7.) And lastly ten minute power nap. No snoring please.

Now if you are in a friend's bathroom or incapacitated in a bathroom in someone's home, there are many other enjoyable things to do while on potty.
1.) Always wipe seat off. Just because it's a house doesn't mean that the potty is clean. In some instances lining seat is necessary.
2.) Read magazines. Almost all people have magazines in the bathrooms. I have also been known to put all magazines in alphabetical and/or date order depending on the amount of time I am on potty.
3.) Change roll so that the paper comes from over, not under. It's the right thing to do.
4.) Read contents of any item that is close by. Bathroom spray, shampoo, soap dispenser, make-up, contact solution, etc. I have learned that Sodium Laurel Sulfate is only added to shampoos and soaps to create lather and that is it. I have also learned French and Spanish. Lavarse los manos means wash your hands and espuma y repita means lather and repeat. Of course, not sure when I will ever need to say that when speaking to Spanish people.
5.) Continue to count floor and ceiling tiles. I once tried to count popcorn on ceiling. This can be tedious, so I do not recommend.
6.) Lastly lavarse los manos y repita, then re-fold hand towel. I can't stand when the towel is not straight.

First let me tell you what Fibromyalgia and IBS are so that you will understand how it affects a person mentally, physically and emotionally. Fibromyalgia is characterized by chronic, wide-spread pain in the muscles, ligaments and tendons. Everything hurts. It feels like you have the flu all the time. Your back hurts, muscles tender to the touch and you have trouble doing many tasks that healthy people can do with no problems. This consists of running, exercising, opening jars, sitting for long periods of time and even sleeping. You feel tired all the time. It feels as if I have always just finished running a marathon. I feel exhausted all the time. A lot of women go years living with this pain before they get diagnosed with the condition because Fibromyalgia can mimic many other conditions like insomnia, the flu, stress, etc, so many women just dealt with the pain for years just thinking it was all in their head. I was 32 when I was first diagnosed with the condition. I had spent 1/3 of my life with issues that many doctors just called stress. I knew deep down it was more that that and I was determined to get answers.

Next I'll tell you about IBS, otherwise called Irritable Bowel Syndrome. It's described as a chronic gastrointestinal disorder of unknown cause. It causes gas, bloating, cramps and diarrhea.
My mom used to call it a nervous stomach. It always happened when you didn't want it to. I would get those jarring stomach cramps minutes before I was to take a math test or was getting ready to go on a date or after I ate a large meal. My stomach started to hurt all the time. It was embarrassing and uncontrollable at times. It got so bad that I only drove certain routes home so that I would pass the most amount of bathrooms before I got home. I would even post-pone trips because of my stomach and there was no way I would ever car-pool, that was out of the question. I learned over time what things I could eat and found out at 16 that I was also lactose intolerant, meaning that I could not digest milk and other dairy products. This began my addiction to Imodium, a tiny, pale, green pill. It became my best friend and without it, I was chained to my toilet. In a way, Imodium help set me free to live life.

Confessions of an Imodium Addict

Welcome to my new blog-Confessions of An Imodium Addict. This is my journey through Fibromyalgia and IBS. If you are one of the millions of people who suffer from either IBS or Fibromyalgia, then you know the day-to-day struggles that we go through. Sometimes it's hard to even get out of bed in the morning or when you're having an IBS flare-up you are stuck in the house watching as the world passes you by. You are no longer the adventurer, climbing mountains, exploring the world and living life. Your world consists of pills, doctor's appointments and pain. It doesn't have to be this way. You can have health problems and still live a rewarding and full life. Hopefully you will come along this journey with me as we explore the world and learn that no matter what life throws at us, we can do anything and not let IBS or Fibromyalgia define who we are. I am a person with a full agenda and I can't let my pain get in the way.