We need to talk about poop

September 18, 2015

There are certain things we don’t talk about publicly, but we know that they aren’t being talked about. Or maybe they’re occasionally mentioned, but only in vague terms or to certain people. You’re probably thinking about things like money and sex right now. Would you ask a stranger, or even a friend, how much they earn for a living? There are some friends I’d ask, but very few. Would you ask them which sexual positions they prefer? How about asking where their erogenous zones are?

But there are things we talk about even less than money or sex, and one of those is poop. We just don’t talk about it. But we need to.

My doctors over the years have asked me about my sex life. We don’t get into details, but they ask if I’m sexually active, if I’m care, if I need testing for STIs, etc. But they never asked about my poop. You’d think a primary care physician would ask at a checkup, “How often do you have bowel movements?” But no, not once.

I was an adult before I learned that I’m supposed to poop Every. Single. Day! Who knew? Not me. How would I know, when it’s something no one talks about? Around that time I also learned that loose stools aren’t normal. Sure, I felt lousy and pooped erratically, but I had no idea these were signalling a problem that needed to be addressed.

As it turns out, poop is important! The frequency, color, density, and shape of your stool says a lot about your current health. It’s something that I believe every doctor should ask about at an annual checkup, and certainly every gastroenterologist should ask these questions. Patients should be encouraged to keep a poop diary for just a few days each year, right before their checkups, so they can accurately answer these questions.

In my case, it would have been helpful if someone had realized much sooner than days without pooping and then a half dozen bouts of diarrhea in a day were, you know, a Bad Thing! And that’s just me. What about the thousands of other cases out there? I know some of you have had gastrointestinal problems. How long did it take for someone to realize there was a problem? Would they have figured it out sooner if they’d been asking you about your poop?

Of course, the problem isn’t just the lack of discussion at medical appointments. We don’t talk about it in general. It’s not like I ask a friend about their poop habits or tell them about mine. There’s no common knowledge here. There’s a running joke on The Big Bang Theory about Sheldon scheduling his daily bowel movement, and how he finds it very odd that others have bowel movements whenever the urge strikes them, without any schedule at all. Ok, maybe Sheldon’s approach is unusual, but at least he makes sure he has a daily, healthy bowel movement and he isn’t afraid to talk about it. The part I find interesting is how off-putting it is for everyone else when he discusses it. Sure, maybe it isn’t something to bring up at dinnertime, but aside from that, what’s so bad about it?

There’s less embarrassment around a bloody nose, burping, hiccuping, crying, peeing…. all things that involve natural bodily processes and/or fluids. Why is that? Why is it that someone can say, “I’m going to pee,” or “I need to take a whiz,” and that’s ok? But the moment someone says “I need to go poop,” or “I need to take a dump,” it’s considered inappropriate? Hell, some people try not to poop at their date’s house for the first several months of dating!

I think our society has gone way overboard on its aversion to any discussion whatsoever of poop. It’s time for that to change. I say, let’s discuss pooping just like any other bodily process. I highly doubt it will hurt anyone, but it may just help a whole lot of people.

What do you think?


Why I’m scared to work

September 14, 2015

Up until a few years ago, I just assumed I’d work a full time job. At one point I quit a job where I was miserable and I took some time off before going back to work, but of course I assumed I’d get another job, and I did. I always worked.

Until I didn’t.

I’m coming up on the 4 year anniversary of when I left my job for what I thought was a few months to rest and recover. Little did I know….

A lot has happened in those 4 years. At the start, doing any sort of work was out of the question. It took every ounce of energy I had to cook dinner or read a book. I didn’t have the physical or mental ability to do any sort of paid work.

Then slowly, I saw some improvement. I began to leave the house more. I did some volunteer work from home. I did favors for friends that involved using my brain in ways that I hadn’t in a while. My cognitive abilities still weren’t what they had been, but they were better. My physical health had improved, too.

As I felt better, I wanted to do more. I started thinking about small ways to make money. I sold my crafts. I did some more of the consulting that I’d let fall away. Someone asked if they could hire me to help them with a project and I said yes. It felt so good to get paid! Still, I was no where near being able to cover my bills. I needed something bigger.

I thought about that person who hired me out of the blue. I thought about the clients I had. That was good money with a flexible schedule and I could do most of it from home. In fact, with a little creativity and Skype, I could probably do it all from home. So how could I get more clients?

I don’t have all the answers, but I do have an initial plan. I’ve been reading a lot, I’ve listened to podcasts, and I joined Facebook groups of other people trying to make money in similar ways. The difference, of course, is that most them are working full time and they work on their side businesses in the mornings, after work, and on weekends. Even so, they probably put in a lot more hours than I can. On a good week I can do 5-10 hours, and on a bad week I’ll be lucky to do 2. So I figure that if they can earn good money in a matter of months, then I should be able to do the same within a year.

With a lot of the research done, I crafted my plan. And then I got stuck. I was scared. At the beginning, I probably won’t earn much, but what if I begin to earn more? How will I handle that? If I earn more than $780 per month for 9 months, and those months don’t need to be consecutive, then I’ll lose my social security benefits. That means I’d better earn enough to make up for that! But actually, that’s not the part that scares me.

No, what scares me is 3 years from now, and 10 years from now. If I can manage to earn a few thousand dollars per month doing work from home that I somewhat enjoy and that doesn’t strain me too much, then yay! Fantastic! Perfect! But what if I can’t keep it up? What if 3 years from now I’m back to where I was 4 years ago, completely unable to do any paid work? And I’ll need to reapply for social security. And what if I don’t get it? Or what if that happens 10 years from now? Or in 10 months? Or 6 1/2 years? Will I be living always in fear of being unable to support myself?

Yes.

But what if I don’t do this? What if I stay on social security without working? I’ll be watching my savings dwindle as I use them to pay for all of the things that my benefits don’t cover, like medical expenses, electricity, some of my groceries, car expenses, part of my rent, everything related to my car, and any sort of entertainment (yeah, right!) And what will happen when my savings run out?

So I have to do this. I have no choice. If I could work a regular hourly job then I could make sure my income stayed consistently at $779, but that just isn’t an option. So I know I need to do this.

But I’m still scared.


Even “healthy” people need time to recover

September 6, 2015

We get so used to dealing with pain every day, it’s easy to forget what a huge effect an acute incident can have on our health.

It’s easy to see “healthy” people and assume they heal quickly and easily from every malady. I get a “cold” that knocks me on my ass for a full week, with fever, chills, congestion, and plenty of other symptoms. The friend who gave me the cold goes about their regular routine while dealing with the sniffles for a few days. So when I react poorly to a new condition, I always assume someone “healthier” would have healed quickly.

That’s why I was giving myself a hard time this week. The incident involved my own clumsiness, a chef’s knife, a visit to the emergency room, and stitches. The day of the incident was horrible. The pain was horrific. The fear was deep. The next day was much better, but still painful. The day after that I assumed I’d be fine, so I was shocked when I wasn’t. I’m used to dealing with pain, so what was the problem?

A friend reminded me that “healthy” people need time to recover from something like this, so I should give myself time, too. My uncle reminded me of having to care for my aunt (his wife) last year when she had a biopsy in a location similar to where I was cut and spent 3 weeks recovering. And her operation was planned, whereas mine was clearly more physically traumatic. Story after story reminded me that “healthy” people take a while to recover from these things, so I should give myself a break, too.

After 3 days at home, I went out briefly yesterday. It was exhausting, but it felt good to be out and around people. Today, though, I’m resting again. I’m exhausted. I’m in pain. And I know I need a break.

I don’t have to worry about rushing to a job. I have enough food to last me a few more days. Sure, I have things to do. I’d like to cook and do laundry and read and work on a few projects, but I’m giving myself a break. Because if a “healthy” person needs time to recover from something like this, then I need even longer.

How do you handle acute injuries? Do you give yourself recovery time, too?


Feeling sick from imaginary germs

August 31, 2015

It isn’t always absurd. If a friend tells me she’s sick, and we just saw each other the day before, it makes some sense that I might worry I’ll get sick, too. Of course, what doesn’t make sense is when I immediately start feeling symptoms.

What makes less sense is when a friend mentions on Facebook that he’s sick and I start feeling sick, even though he lives 3000 miles away and we haven’t seen each other in a year.

It hasn’t always been this way, but somewhere along the lines, my anxiety about health issues snuck up on me and now I often feel sick at just the mention of illness.

Tonight was even worse: I felt sick as I listened to the narrator in the audio book I’m listening to describe feeling ill. She’s a fictitious character in a novel, and she probably isn’t even sick (or if she is, I’m guessing that it’s relevant to the plot in a very specific way, but I digress) and even those imaginary germs from a character in a novel got me feeling queasy.

It’s absurd. It makes no sense. But it happens all the time.

If anyone can explain this to me, I’d really appreciate it. Maybe if I understand it, I could learn to somehow avoid it!