Thursday, June 25, 2009

It starts with borborygmus

La Brea, the tar pits, were once shown in a very crappy movie (Arnold Schwarzenegerr's "Last Action Hero") that I watched with step-children and husband. It was a boiling, oozy blackness that radiated filth and with the right imagination one could smell the methane bubbling up and out into the once clear air.

What brings this description and revelation tonight? My stomach and acid reflux. Yuck!
It pretty well amazes me that I can subject my innards to all sorts of nasties at home, with the likes of ancho chilis & Jalapenos and somewhere in the realm of 7-10#s of white onions used in cooking every month but the moment I step out of the door and eat somewhere else you had better believe the gurgling is coming.

An irritable bowel is never really a fun topic unless you're morbid, socially unacceptable, work in the medical field, have only a few friends (fewer still if you have irritable bowel) or are a 'cat person - dog person' or otherwise employed/active in some sort of dirty hobby.
dirty hobby people will talk about ANYTHING and 9x out of 10 it will be just as you are about to enjoy a meal together when the litterbox humor starts.

somewhere deep down at the very base of my stomach, probably where it connects to my small intestine (I personally cartoonize the image of my own body and am now imagining a kidney shaped balloon attached to a washing machine hose that has leaky metal clips holding everything together and the balloon is overfilled and nearly bursting with some gelatinous, squishy feeling material that resembles oozing green slime used on Nickelodeon Television) ...there is a pressure of sorts, maybe its a tickle but its definitely not supposed to feel this way.

The sensation works its way up through my stomach, each moment is a cramp and a shimmy-shake that evolves ...and tells my body "Hey, let's light some incense and really create the mood"

There begins the real fun and I can taste my discomfort as it sends that smokey burning up into my esophagus and into my mouth. I'm sure if it tastes this bad to me, I can't possibly smell that great to anyone else. The positive thing for the moment is, its 2:45 a.m and I'm alone (unless you count for the pair of elderly cats vying for position on my chest thus blocking any ability to type but they get the best saggy seat in the house).

what brought this on, you'd expect I was going to wax poetic about some delicious meal. Starting with an outrageous hors d'Ĺ“uvre so delectable that another bite would spoil my meal...
maybe it was an out of the ordinary ethnic Cuisine replete with herbs and spices none I've embarked upon before.
maybe I just over indulged in the trigger foods that tear my stomach asunder due to the IBD - things like tomatoes (you say toe may toe I say toe mah toe), onions and peppers and the dreaded milk!
nope wrong once again.

I simply had a steak and potato in a restaurant, but I suppose the preparation and handling is all that it takes to destroy that which we protect.
thank you for Omeprazole and Tums! soon the burn will be gone, I'm going to bust a fart and He who smelt it dealt it.