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alt=a man in a hospital gown stands looking relieved outside of a men's bathroom on a hill with a path leading from the door and off into the distance.

Beginning my IBS Quest, Part 2

After I had been taken to the doctor, gone through hours of waiting, asked to consume rancid medical fluid, and after waves of anxiety, I was finally given an answer. What was the reason for my visit that day?

I was constipated

I had been so scared and anxious about not being able to poop at school freely that I backed up my pipes to a medical degree of discomfort! We were perplexed as to why we had gotten to this point. We were 4 hours into an ER visit, just to be (basically) told, "Hey, your son is just full of sh*t!" I was barely able to ruminate over this discovery before I was faced with the solution given to my affliction.

It was then where a nurse guided me to a small 1-person bathroom and instructed me through a process. I was to pull my pants down, lean over, have a bottle inserted into my anus, blasted with the contents of said bottle, and hold it in until I cannot anymore. It would release my internal blockage and free me from my own personal hell.

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The best possible solution

I couldn’t just eat some prunes or something? My young brain was spinning as she bent me over and inserted her enema into my butt. She squeezed and made sure to coach me the whole way through (bless her). She wished me luck then left. I stood there, holding my butt cheeks together, wondering how the farts I had gotten to this place. Then all of a sudden a woman next door started having an exorcism!

She was (to my mother's discretion) pant-less and absolutely blasting off into her ER room's trash can, demanding that she be let in. Now I don’t know about you, but the idea of holding onto a butt slurry while hearing the noises of a woman trying to bust into your toilet tends to stick.

I held in as long as I could, then sat down. Trying to push this lady’s noises out of my head long enough to concentrate on ending this nightmare. It wasn’t one before it was time. The floodgates burst. It was like a poop Tsunami (poo-nami) left me with such haste that I can nearly feel it to this day. I sauntered out of that room, a new man, having lived through something that I never would want for my worst enemy.

I was free of my constipation

...But at the cost of one really terrible day. As we near the end of this absolutely wretched tale, I can’t help to wonder how this has affected me. I mean, I certainly haven’t had an enema since and, with those circumstances, wouldn’t want it again. It did work, to be fair. Heck, if I were under less dramatic circumstances, it may not be such an awful option! Though paired with a metric ton of nasty fluid, and with a yelling lady, I would hold off. If anything, I began to understand exactly how my bowel consequences affected me and what means I had to put my family through.

Though this was not the end of my IBS journey, it was quite the turning point. I’ve always had a history of bowel issues, but the way in which I conduct myself, my choices with food, or regular bathroom uses, can have staggering effects if not regulated. I may never have a normal life, but I’m always learning and adapting to have a great one.

What are some of your own IBS horror stories? Would love to know in the comments down below!

This article represents the opinions, thoughts, and experiences of the author; none of this content has been paid for by any advertiser. The team does not recommend or endorse any products or treatments discussed herein. Learn more about how we maintain editorial integrity here.

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