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Two panels show a man eating food and site seeing, in the middle is "Boston Butt Troubles, By: Sawyer Matheny"

Illustrated by Brianna Gilmartin

My Boston Butt Troubles

Sawyer Matheny's avatar image

By Sawyer Matheny

2 min read

My girlfriend and I had been driving back from Boston. It’s where she went to grad school, so I figured this would be a great place for our first trip together as a fairly new couple. Old memories for her and new ones for us! It was super exciting, getting to go away for a few days and see the sights, eat some local food, and enjoy each other’s company without any diarrhea.
A man is eating food and taking two pills, a speech bubble says

Food adventures in Boston

Two Imodium a day usually keep the gurgles away. We got pesto chicken sandwiches at Quincy Market with no problem. Clam chowder and Haddock in a little restaurant off the street, not a rumble. Full-on Italian food with garlic and a glass of Cab. Cabaret? It's Cabernet Sauvignon. I had to look it up. Yeah… I never eat this stuff out of fear of retribution! I usually eat bland vegetables with salmon wherever I go. I do not enjoy my meals, but I at least get THROUGH them.
Two people are looking at a monument in a city,

Feeling invincible

I hardly had a turd for the 3 days we were together.
Two people in a car are driving away from the city,

Naturally, I thought I became some sort of tummy Adonis and decided that halfway through our 4-hour car ride back from Boston, I wanted some breakfast food at a diner. If I had known that my meal consisted of a scrambled egg and 3 types of meats, I probably would not have ordered it. But I scarfed it down with a cup of black coffee to keep me awake during the trip.
Two people are in a diner window eating breakfast, a gurgle comes from the man's stomach and a thought bubble says

The infamous IBS rumble and urgency

We left after I tried using the bathroom twice. I felt a rumble. A harmless rumble from that Imodium holding all my poop back, telling me that it was going to be OK. That we could get through anything together.

Not 20 minutes into our drive back, a wave of nausea came over me like a tsunami. I felt clammy and my stomach churned for death.

Two people are in a car, the man is sweating and a rumble comes from his stomach, the woman checks her phone, a speech bubble from his mouth says

I had to go, NOW! My girlfriend calmly reassured me that there was a Target store 17 minutes away. In the opposite direction, on the highway.

overhead view of a multilane highway as a car makes a U-turn, the tire tracks are on fire, a thought bubble says

I frantically clutched the steering wheel and sped 75 miles per hour, trying to hold it in. She told me everything was going to be OK, and that IF I needed to pull over I could. With every cramp and dilation, I surveyed the shoulder, looking for a patch of woods to poop. Was this how our trip was going to end? A magical vacation ending with imminent butt death? No.

A man is clutching and tapping on a steering wheel while sweating and breathing, a thought bubble says

I did everything I could. I rhythmically breathed, tapped on the steering wheel, and said nothing as we finally, painstakingly, made it to the store.

A man is tumbling out of his car door in front of a storefront

I parked and tumbled out of the driver's seat, making it to the toilet in time.

A public bathroom stall door with a mans feet underneath, a sigh comes out of the top of the door and the door says

Travel lessons learned

Even recalling these events is making my stomach groan. This was a teachable moment for me, in 2 respects. For one, I shouldn't have eaten all that trash. I knew it was a long trek back, and I risked it all thinking I could have eggs, meats, and COFFEE, while on the highway, not again. My second takeaway was how amazing it was being supported. Judgment is something that comes aplenty when you have IBS; it can be incredibly toxic. So, it is such a breath of fresh air when somebody has your back and will not let your digestive process take away from a lovely trip.

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