It’s a real problem

Here’s the thing about IBS: It is simultaneously not a joke, while also being kind of hilarious. Which is why I never talk to other people about it, since I never know how they’ll respond.

I mean, the ever-present threat that one might lose control of one’s bowels has been a linchpin of hundreds of thousands of comedy bits since the dawn of time. On the other hand, planning your life around the availability of bathrooms, being forced to cancel appointments, disappearing mysteriously from social events, and all the other attendant hassles that come with it is not.

The real problem though is that it’s impossible for me to ask for accommodation for it. People are uncomfortable with bodily functions anyway, and being forced to acknowledge that they exist grosses some people out so badly that they can’t even cope with the discussion. When that happens they either get angry or try to laugh it off or get really dismissive. “Can’t you just hold it?” is rather like saying “Oh, cheer up,” to a a person with depression. No, I can’t.

I am lucky enough to be able to arrange my life around this affliction. Many other people cannot, and due to the stigma associated with IBS, they likely never will. It’s actually fucking awful.

I don’t really have a point; I’m just frustrated is all, especially after yesterday. I have a very long commute, and sometimes it takes even longer when I have to make pit stops along the way, and yesterday was chock full of those, to the point I ended up turning around and going home. IBS has decimated my the sick time that I’m lucky to have.

Eesh. That’s enough, moving on.

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It’s a real problem

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