I'm not sure how to put this delicately,

...but I appear to have some sort of digestive disorder. It's been a problem since Monday night. The only thing I can pin it on is this Fresh and Easy pasta with mushroom sauce I ate that evening for dinner, which is weird, because Patrick had the same type of pasta the night before and was just fine. It's either that or my body is rejecting all my internal organs and has decided to eliminate them all, one by one, and is taking its own sweet time about it.

I'm on the phone right now with Kaiser, and I feel kind of silly about it, because, I mean, it's just diarrhea, you know? It's not the plague (or is it... there was a cricket in the house on Monday; do crickets carry the plague?) or anything, I can totally function (work has been interesting, though, because I have been forced to try to lose that sense of inhibition I always feel in a public restroom, where I try to contain all my snorts and squeaks until the room is clear [I don't actually snort or squeak in the restroom; to be honest, it's most like a gentle hum, say, Erik Satie]), I'm still eating just fine (for instance, this morning I had a bowl of Cheerios and a banana for breakfast, Franny is helping to not let the teaspoon of extra milk in the bottom of the bowl go to waste), and while it's uncomfortable, a little crampy - I'm not going to die.

During the time it took for me to type the above paragraph I've been on hold. There are no available appointments today, so the receptionist is going to put me on with an "Advice Nurse." I like the Advice Nurse service Kaiser has, but I'm a little nervous about this. What's worse? Typing my digestive problems on a blog or telling a real live nurse I have diarrhea?

I got up to use the bathroom this morning while Patrick was getting ready for work, and he was kidding around with me about the fan and Febreze, but when I was finished, and it was all roses and vanilla and lavender in there (in other words, I did not lay an egg), I thought, hey, maybe that's over now. Maybe whatever 72 hour bug I had is gone. But no, he left for work, and five minutes later it was World War III all over again.

I don't know. I'm still on hold. I'm tempted to hang up, go take a shower, and pretend none of this happened. I have things to do today - I have an appointment with the chiropractor for one thing; Patrick, who only has to work a few hours today (but has to work all day tomorrow) will be home soon and then we're going to the gym; I'd love to get some laundry done, and the dirty dishes - Oh! Here we go. I just talked to the nurse, and he (his name was Patrick, how sweet) asked me a few questions - my favorite was, "When you stand up, do you feel like passing out?" Well, no, but I've passed out before, many years ago, and it was kind of fun.

Anyway, here's the deal. I am going to not eat anything fatty or sugary, I am going to quit taking any laxatives (damn. Why didn't I think of that?), I am going to drink more fluids, and I am going to go get some Immodium when I'm out and about a little later.

You know, it's interesting - when I got up this morning to check my email, one of the first things I did was go to webmd.com and type in "diarrhea" (I had to type it in twice, because I always misspell it). And hey, wouldn't you know, there are many causes of diarrhea, including this one:

Diarrhea may also be caused by malabsorption problems and certain types of cancer.

"Certain types of cancer" is becoming my not-so secret fear. Isn't that cheerful?

...

It's funny, I wasn't going to post this next part but then I got a comment from my friend Jeff, and I decided, hey, what the hell, I've taken it this far, what's the problem?

So after I wrote all that, I had to get up and take a shower to get ready for an appointment with the chiropractor that I made last week. I go every once in awhile, and ever since we've started walking on the treadmill, I've been noticing how my left leg really is longer than my right. Maybe I'm standing straighter or something. Anyway, the chirorpractor has worked on this in the past with me, so I wanted to go get it checked out. Except, you know, my tummy is not happy today (or yesterday, or the day before yesterday...) - but I thought, ah, it'll be okay.

So I headed over there, and the place was totally packed. No place to sit, even, in the waiting room (well, there was this guy with a cast on his leg and crutches, if he had just gotten out of the way...), so I'm hanging out, wondering if this was a good idea, and it seemed like things would be alright. So 30 minutes after my scheduled appointment time, they bring me into a room (and don't make me lie on that stupid water table, I hate that table with a passion), and I sit there and wait some more. Luckily I had a book. Finally Dr. B comes in, and he asks me a few questions, and then he proceeds to adjust me. Which he does by, I don't know, lying down on my back with his knee and twisting me like a pretzel. While he's doing this, I apologized for being so stiff, and he goes, "Well, you know that's funny, because you're both stiff and limber!" And I pondered that for a moment, and then I almost farted on him.

It would've been okay, though, because in case you didn't know, my farts are full-on lemon-y, bubbly goodness.

So there you go, Jeff. The best conclusion to a story you didn't intend to read in the first place.