First off, please note, just because I point out one way in which the pandemic hasn’t totally sucked, it doesn’t mean that I don’t recognize the VERY MANY WAYS in which it totally has sucked!! Ok, now that that’s out of the way – here we go!

IBS is the diagnosis you get when you are born with a shitty (no pun intended…) gastrointestinal situation and doctors aren’t sure how to fix whatever the fuck is wrong with you because they don’t know what causes it. Which really sucks because you can spend inordinate amounts of time figuring out what your triggers are, except you never will because what is fine to eat one day, will have your 3-Stage True HEPA Air Purifier with PlasmaWave® Technology lighting up orange the next. Seriously, if you have an air purifier that changes light color when it detects dirty air, go fart in front of it and see what happens. It’s a real treat.

Doctors will task you with endlessly documenting what foods you ate and when and how and how much and what phase the moon was in and how many tweets the dickhead-in-chief tweeted at the time so you can hopefully find your triggers. Then you eliminate the possible trigger foods, and begin the just as tedious process of reintroducing each food one at a time.

All in the hopes of finding out which foods cause you to sit in meetings tightly clenching your butthole and praying that people will quit asking fucking questions so you can get to the bathroom before your insides come out.

Set it off

At various times, I have tried to figure out what might trigger flare-ups. Of course, the frustrating part is that IBS is unpredictable as fuck. Sometimes it’s all fine. Sometimes it doesn’t matter what the fuck I eat because I will feel horrible. For all I know, it could be one broccoli floret that is the difference between sleeping soundly and writhing around in bloated agony.

Stuff that could be a trigger

These made the list of possible triggers at some point:

Stuff that isn’t a trigger

Here is my list of things that probably aren’t triggers for IBS:

My semi-social life

Given that IBS affects ~20% of Americans, you’d think it’s something we could talk about easily. Like – yo dude, I’m canceling our plans last minute because I have diarrhea and I don’t feel like taking a bunch of Imodium and then being constipated for the next week just to watch the latest Fast and Furious movie with you, cool? Although that’s a lie because I honestly would. #JusticeForHan.

Usually, when my stomach is grumbly or I just have an “off” sense about it, there are a million questions I start asking myself. All of which tend to increase my anxiety. Will I be near a toilet? Is it a toilet I would potentially feel comfortable taking a massive shit in? Will everyone know? Can I eat something at this restaurant? Or will that just end up making me feel worse? Will I start turning into Violet Beauregarde except instead of turning into a blueberry, I’ll turn into a balloon of farts? Will I have to make up a random excuse to get the fuck out of there if I start feeling bad? What excuse will I use and how weirdly abrupt will my exit be?

But, sadly, we find it hard to talk about pooping. Even though it is something approximately 100% of people in the world do (except the Queen). So instead I end up saying things like I have an early day tomorrow so I’m going to have to go to bed at like 7pm, sorry! or My cat is totally depressed and gonna kill me if I leave her alone again, sorry! or I can’t hang out because I’ve severely sprained my coccyx in a gardening incident. I’ll definitely tell you about it later, but I’ll catch you next week, sorry!

And then people just stop inviting me to do things because they think I’m bonkers.

However, during the pandemic, things have gotten a lot easier. Because on the rare occasion anyone does feel comfortable leaving their house, my excuse is simply: Don’t wanna get coronavirus, have fun, byeeeee!

Of course, I desperately miss my friends, but sometimes it is a massive relief to not have to awkwardly semi-explain why I don’t want to go somewhere. Not to mention, it’s nice not to worry about being guilted for canceling on or saying no to plans.

What’s a little IBS between coworkers?

Do you even understand how much of a fucking boon it is for people with IBS who have jobs that went remote because of the pandemic? And that there are seemingly more opportunities arising for working from home?

You mean I don’t have to get on a train packed full of people and hope that we don’t get trapped in the Transbay Tube (because I felt fine when I left my house, but after a few stops I massively have to take a shit and I am trying to practice calm, meditative breathing except I can’t because I have a stranger’s armpit in my fucking face)? Amazing!

Finally, I don’t have to worry that today is the day the tuna I had for lunch for some reason explodes my stomach? And I don’t have to run back and forth every 10 minutes to the office bathroom that has basically no ventilation and only like two stalls for 50 women? And I can just shit in my own bathroom? A fucking Festivus miracle!!

Surprisingly, can it be that I am excused from playing poop chicken? And don’t have to wait out another woman sitting quietly in a stall like I don’t know she’s there? I can see your shoes!! If you are just peeing, get on with it for fuck’s sakes!! I’m trying to save you from being enveloped in a poop cloud and you are really testing my abilities right now! Just get the fuck out of here! Yes, please!

And I don’t have to explain to my manager or team that I’m out sick or working from home because I don’t want to risk shitting myself on the way to work? Or end up using one of the subway bathrooms that only dispenses one square of 1-ply toilet paper at a time and that you really don’t want to touch anything inside, but it’s kind of impossible not to when you are taking a massive crap? Especially after one of my coworkers called out sick for GI issues and people made snarky comments about how that was a bullshit reason to call out? Fan-fucking-tastic!!

Before I got laid off because of the pandemic, it was honestly goddamn amazing to be working from home and have the comfort of the home base bathroom. Not to mention, it alleviated one of the constant sources of stress that comes with having IBS. That is, no longer having to worry about a commute, workplace, and coworkers who really don’t want to hear about what is going on with my stomach. As previously noted, this is also why a career as a mass transit driver would absolutely not work for me.

TMI

I know – this is TMI and all incredibly shocking. Because women are beautiful, delicate creatures that never burp, fart, or poop from what I’m told. So like, they definitely cannot be out there explosively shitting! Heaven forbid!

Maybe I’ve been going about this all wrong though. Instead of trying to be delicate about it, perhaps I should just be straightforwardly telling people. Because the first time I give them the real excuse, I’ll never have to go into detail about it again. Perhaps I will even find one of the other 20% of folks out there with IBS who know what I’m talking about. Then, we can sit around and talk openly about pooping while we may or may not actually be eating or drinking something. And when one of us just decides it’s time to go, nothing but a wink and a nod required.