For years now, perhaps even more than a decade, I’ve had problems with my stomach. Bubbles, cramps, swelling, pain, unpleasant bathroom issues ranging far beyond mere urgency. At best it was distracting. At worst, actually debilitating. It cast a shadow on everyday life, and ruined what should have been good times. Eating out made it worse. Eating not-great food made it terrible. Thus some of my worst bouts occurred while traveling, ultimately making vacations unpleasant. Traveling across Europe should be fun, not uncomfortable and stressful.
Along the way I had a myriad of diagnosis. IBS. Nervous stomach. I had a variety of procedures to no avail, from ultrasounds to, eventually – when I finally became frightened enough to start wondering if I had cancer or Crohn’s – a colonoscopy (which cost an arm and a leg since my insurance is terrible and I had it done prior to the recommended age of 50). Nothing. “You must have some sort of food allergy,” said the gastroenterologist.
Sure. But it must be an allergy to food in general then, because it doesn’t matter what I eat.