For the past year and a half, I’ve struggled with constipation. I haven't talked much about it to many people (since it's not really the greatest conversation piece!), but I feel like I've learned so much that someone who has a similar trial might be able to gain something from my experience. The following is a detailed account of my struggles. Please don’t read it if you're uncomfortable with poop talk. 'Cause there's lots of it. Poop talk. Not poop. ☺
May 2008 - baby #3 weighed in at 10+ pounds after both an 18-hour failed induction (where I recognized afterwards that I was really constipated, which may have contributed to it failing) and an 8 hour successful, though hellishly painful (even with an epidural), induced labor.
July 2008 until June 2009 - Within a couple of months of having Evy, I began experiencing severe constipation. If I didn’t use glycolax every day, plus another laxative once a week or so, everything would stop completely and my abdomen would feel hard and achy. I would go days and days without a b.m. During this time, I was exercising regularly, eating relatively well, only whole grains, lots of fruits and veggies (I discovered green drinks during this time), for fluids I drank only water (and lots of it!), and I even took supplemental fiber, and probiotics. I was losing a lot of baby weight during this time, but it was interesting to watch the pounds literally fall off whenever my bowels would finally move. There are a couple more obvious ones: 8/02/08, 9/05/08, and 11/13/08 where I lost several pounds within just a few days. I was being smart about losing weight, but while I was losing weight, I was also getting backed up and then finally eliminating it all at once.
Fall 2008 - visited my PCP - he counseled me to drink more water, eat more fiber, exercise... So, the 13 glasses of water and 35 grams of fiber a day, and the 3 hours of exercise a week aren’t enough? Ya gotta love it when doctors ignore what you’re already doing to self-treat.
January 2009 - went back to my PCP: he counseled me to double my glycolax, and he also gave me a referral to go see a gastroenterologist, who was booked out for two months.
March 2009 - first visit to the gastro. He ordered a colonic transit study.
April 2009 - Colonic transit study: basically, I swallowed a pill with little, tiny rings inside the pill that were visible on an x-ray, and then I went in every morning for a week to be x-rayed to see how they’re moving along. No glycolax through the whole test. Ouch! This is where I gained four pounds in a week (4/21/09) (though it didn’t help that my sisters and mom were in town and we visited the almond roca factory. twice.)
April 2009 - Gastro called - he said my colon transit is normal, until the end of the large intestine, where all the pills had gathered by the end of the week. He recommended pelvic floor rehabilitation to strengthen those muscles, which can help with regularity. Pelvic floor rehab specialist: booked out two months.
June to August 2009 - Rehab Kristi. These appointments were so interesting and educational. She gave me some foot exercises, which are supposed to stimulate the nerves and muscles in the pelvic floor. She cited a study that showed them to be more effective than Kegels. You can find them here. She also showed me a toileting “technique” and had me do some pelvic floor awareness exercises that were interesting. She helped correct a diastasis recti (common pregnancy-induced separation of the abdominal wall) and gave me a “morning bowel routine”: warm drink first thing in the morning, then eat breakfast, plus set a time each day to sit on the toilet for 5-10 minutes. All these exercises helped only very slightly. The only improvement I saw was that I was able to decrease the amount of glycolax I’d been taking.
August 2009 - Went back to the gastro. Said it was possible I had a rectocele. He sent me to a colo-rectal specialist. Never even knew those existed.
September 2009 - Colo-rectal specialist: Confirmed that I do have a minor rectocele. Not likely the cause of all the struggles. Invited me to come back in 3 weeks to be tortured. Until then, he told me to add caffeine to my morning routine. He suggested coffee or green tea. I went with Vivarin. The combination of the caffeine (which acts as a stimulant on the bowels), the warm beverage (which warms your body/intestines up), and the food (gastro-colic reflex (like you see in babies: eat, poop, eat, poop) -- it’s not as strong or as noticeable in adults, but it tends to be strongest in the morning, when you haven’t eaten all night) has helped quite a bit, but hasn’t completely solved the problem.
Yesterday 2009 - a day which will live in infamy, much like the labors of my three children, the difference being I didn’t get a sweet bundle to take home with me. The torture he scheduled me for was a test called Ano-rectal Manometry test. It was invasive and painful and miserable and unkind. And I am so grateful for it. He actually found something wrong with me! Thanks to the labor and delivery of my third child (remember the glass in rectum post?), the involuntary muscles in my rectum were traumatized, causing them to contract when I try to poop instead of relax.
It’s been a really long, really annoying struggle, but I’m very optimistic about it all right now.
What’s next? I have an appointment with the Pelvic floor rehab specialist in two weeks. She and the colo-rectal guy are working to get me a pelvic floor stimulation system. Sounds like a party.
I’ve thought a lot about all these kind, knowledgable people who have done their best to help me. These random, undesirable occupations such as a colo-rectal specialist, a pelvic floor specialist, a gastroenterologist: it seems like you’d have to have a really good attitude to be able to talk about your profession, not to mention that you have to have a really kind heart to even go there in the first place! I suppose you could argue the kind heart for many other health care professions, but there’s something special (at least to me!) about someone who chooses butts. Heart docs? Eh. Three cheers for the butt docs.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Potty Humor
Guest posting is my favorite and handsome husband. If you survived my post, and don't mind John's hilarious inability to take anything seriously (at least in the blog world), read on:
Laura asked me to write this post for her. She asked me to do this even though I’m completely irreverent and silly. Though maybe that’s why she asked me to write this post for her. You see, a while ago, Laura stopped pooping.
Seriously, she hasn’t pooped in 16 months – more or less. Talk about your crappy (har!) situation!
The story goes back much further than 16 months. But I’m not here to talk about how she went from painful child birth, to eating 14,593 lbs of fiber and drinking 1,342 gals of water everyday, to needing a pooping coach. I’m just here to talk about the colo-rectal specialist – the butt doctor.
The idea of someone becoming a butt doctor is fascinating in its own right. I mean, how does one decide that nothing sounds better than dealing with poop and anuses all day? Laura’s butt doctor says it was helping people with “these type” of problems and seeing how grateful they were. And while I am very grateful – though not as grateful as Laura – that he made that choice, it’s still hard for me to comprehend. I mean, I get warm fuzzies helping someone in a crappy (har!) situation too, but it doesn’t mean I like it. For example, one time I was changing a dear, sweet old man (don’t ask. Laura is still paying for that one) when he accidentally pooped in my hand – I wish I were kidding. Helping him when he couldn’t help himself made me feel good about myself, but it did NOT make me want to become a professional poo catcher.
But I’ve seriously digressed. Where was I? Oh yes, Laura’s butt doctor. After thoroughly stumping her PCP, the gastroenterologist, and a pelvic floor therapist (a.k.a the pooping coach), she ended up at the colo-rectal specialist.
At the first appointment, we sat and chatted about labor and feelings of glass shards in the rectum during childbirth and the numerous possibilities for chronic constipation. And then ... and then we were caught completely off guard. I mean, I guess we should have considered that the butt doctor might want to do a butt inspection, but we didn’t consider any such thing. Not until he said, “drop your pants and bend over the table” or something like that, anyway.
The results of this sneak attack on Laura’s trap door? Another test. One that wouldn’t be a surprise at all, but rather a full rear assault. Laura was getting an ARM test – Ano-rectal Manometry test. Doesn’t Ano-rectal Manometery sound like a weapon used in a war? “Surrender now or you will experience the full power of our Ano-rectal Manometery!”
Yesterday was the test. We went to a big open field, and when the time of our appointment came, a large saucer-shaped thing flew over us, sucked Laura up onto a large exam table, and a green man stuck massive probes into the nether regions of her digestive system.
Actually, we went to the doctor’s office and there was no saucer, just a green man and anal probing. Doctor Green (get it? Green man? Har!) pulled out (stuck in?) his probes and got to work.
The first probe was a dry sponge thing, which based on Laura’s facial expressions and the way she attempted to powderize my hand, must have hurt like ... well, hurt like a serious anal probing. At some point in here, she emphatically declared, “You are SOOOO getting a prostate exam” at which time I pointed at Evy, “Me? This is her fault, not mine.” Anyway, with the sponge as a rectal resident, she then had to, “squeeze like you’re on a crowded elevator with your boss and you have a fart that is really trying to come out.”
The next step was to send a balloon spelunking in there. He then started to pump it up, “Tell me when it feels like you’d recognize that you might need to go to the bathroom soon.” She didn’t say this, though I think it would have been appropriate, “you have a balloon shoved up my a$$ and I’m supposed to tell you when it feels like there’s something in there that wants to come out? Seriously?” As he continued to pump, she also had to tell him when “you’d be looking for a bathroom” and finally, “when you’d push the kids down to get there first.”
The final probe was finger applicated, if you know what I mean. While Laura writhed in agony on the table, the Green man did his best to piss off the nerves running to her pelvic region. Supposedly he did this to see if they were damaged (they were). That’s what he said, but it sure looked to me like he was doing it to damage the nerves himself. And then like frosting on a cake, he announced after torturing her for a while, that the probe was in wrong and he had to do it all again.
About this time Evy picked up and ate a green Skittle that I’d dropped on the butt doctor’s floor. Wouldn’t that make a great Facebook status? “Just ate a green skittle off the butt doctor's floor.”
Also about this time, the equipment technician announced that he was “anal about his data”. Laura announced, and rightfully so, “I’m the only one in the room allowed to use the phrase ‘anal about that’ right now.” She later conceded that the doctor was also allowed that liberty, given that he had his finger stuck in her back door.
So, 45 minutes of probing later, the doctor beamed us back to earth and gave us the results. Laura’s involuntary rectal muscles are apparently confused. Instead of relaxing when she pushes, they squeeze harder. It’s hard to get poop out that way.
And so, at least all the probing resulted in a prognosis. Nothing would have been worse than going through all that crap (har!) for nothing. To my glee, the doctor did, however, say, “and you’re a bigger woman” during some part of the discussion allowing me to throw in the standard, “did he just call you fat?” remark. I thought it was really funny. No one else did. Alas, the life of the easily amused.
And since this is Laura’s healthy living blog, I have to add that as we left the office and I said, “Let’s swing by Costco and get a Great American Chocolate Cake as comfort food to make you feel better.” She replied, “No, John, that’s what you want for comfort food.” I responded, “Fine. Lets swing by and pick up a stalk of celery then. Whatever. Sounds like crappy (har!) comfort food to me.” Aren’t you proud of her, though? I am. (And I still want chocolate cake).
Next up: back to the poop coach for anal electro-therapy. Sounds shockingly stimulating. The idea being to shock the muscles into remembering their actual job. This is the same idea behind spanking your kids when they’re bad. “Relax. I said RELAX! Dang-it! That’s it, 3 ... 2 ... 1 ... ZAP! Next time do as you’re told.” Good times.
Laura asked me to write this post for her. She asked me to do this even though I’m completely irreverent and silly. Though maybe that’s why she asked me to write this post for her. You see, a while ago, Laura stopped pooping.
Seriously, she hasn’t pooped in 16 months – more or less. Talk about your crappy (har!) situation!
The story goes back much further than 16 months. But I’m not here to talk about how she went from painful child birth, to eating 14,593 lbs of fiber and drinking 1,342 gals of water everyday, to needing a pooping coach. I’m just here to talk about the colo-rectal specialist – the butt doctor.
The idea of someone becoming a butt doctor is fascinating in its own right. I mean, how does one decide that nothing sounds better than dealing with poop and anuses all day? Laura’s butt doctor says it was helping people with “these type” of problems and seeing how grateful they were. And while I am very grateful – though not as grateful as Laura – that he made that choice, it’s still hard for me to comprehend. I mean, I get warm fuzzies helping someone in a crappy (har!) situation too, but it doesn’t mean I like it. For example, one time I was changing a dear, sweet old man (don’t ask. Laura is still paying for that one) when he accidentally pooped in my hand – I wish I were kidding. Helping him when he couldn’t help himself made me feel good about myself, but it did NOT make me want to become a professional poo catcher.
But I’ve seriously digressed. Where was I? Oh yes, Laura’s butt doctor. After thoroughly stumping her PCP, the gastroenterologist, and a pelvic floor therapist (a.k.a the pooping coach), she ended up at the colo-rectal specialist.
At the first appointment, we sat and chatted about labor and feelings of glass shards in the rectum during childbirth and the numerous possibilities for chronic constipation. And then ... and then we were caught completely off guard. I mean, I guess we should have considered that the butt doctor might want to do a butt inspection, but we didn’t consider any such thing. Not until he said, “drop your pants and bend over the table” or something like that, anyway.
The results of this sneak attack on Laura’s trap door? Another test. One that wouldn’t be a surprise at all, but rather a full rear assault. Laura was getting an ARM test – Ano-rectal Manometry test. Doesn’t Ano-rectal Manometery sound like a weapon used in a war? “Surrender now or you will experience the full power of our Ano-rectal Manometery!”
Yesterday was the test. We went to a big open field, and when the time of our appointment came, a large saucer-shaped thing flew over us, sucked Laura up onto a large exam table, and a green man stuck massive probes into the nether regions of her digestive system.
Actually, we went to the doctor’s office and there was no saucer, just a green man and anal probing. Doctor Green (get it? Green man? Har!) pulled out (stuck in?) his probes and got to work.
The first probe was a dry sponge thing, which based on Laura’s facial expressions and the way she attempted to powderize my hand, must have hurt like ... well, hurt like a serious anal probing. At some point in here, she emphatically declared, “You are SOOOO getting a prostate exam” at which time I pointed at Evy, “Me? This is her fault, not mine.” Anyway, with the sponge as a rectal resident, she then had to, “squeeze like you’re on a crowded elevator with your boss and you have a fart that is really trying to come out.”
The next step was to send a balloon spelunking in there. He then started to pump it up, “Tell me when it feels like you’d recognize that you might need to go to the bathroom soon.” She didn’t say this, though I think it would have been appropriate, “you have a balloon shoved up my a$$ and I’m supposed to tell you when it feels like there’s something in there that wants to come out? Seriously?” As he continued to pump, she also had to tell him when “you’d be looking for a bathroom” and finally, “when you’d push the kids down to get there first.”
The final probe was finger applicated, if you know what I mean. While Laura writhed in agony on the table, the Green man did his best to piss off the nerves running to her pelvic region. Supposedly he did this to see if they were damaged (they were). That’s what he said, but it sure looked to me like he was doing it to damage the nerves himself. And then like frosting on a cake, he announced after torturing her for a while, that the probe was in wrong and he had to do it all again.
About this time Evy picked up and ate a green Skittle that I’d dropped on the butt doctor’s floor. Wouldn’t that make a great Facebook status? “Just ate a green skittle off the butt doctor's floor.”
Also about this time, the equipment technician announced that he was “anal about his data”. Laura announced, and rightfully so, “I’m the only one in the room allowed to use the phrase ‘anal about that’ right now.” She later conceded that the doctor was also allowed that liberty, given that he had his finger stuck in her back door.
So, 45 minutes of probing later, the doctor beamed us back to earth and gave us the results. Laura’s involuntary rectal muscles are apparently confused. Instead of relaxing when she pushes, they squeeze harder. It’s hard to get poop out that way.
And so, at least all the probing resulted in a prognosis. Nothing would have been worse than going through all that crap (har!) for nothing. To my glee, the doctor did, however, say, “and you’re a bigger woman” during some part of the discussion allowing me to throw in the standard, “did he just call you fat?” remark. I thought it was really funny. No one else did. Alas, the life of the easily amused.
And since this is Laura’s healthy living blog, I have to add that as we left the office and I said, “Let’s swing by Costco and get a Great American Chocolate Cake as comfort food to make you feel better.” She replied, “No, John, that’s what you want for comfort food.” I responded, “Fine. Lets swing by and pick up a stalk of celery then. Whatever. Sounds like crappy (har!) comfort food to me.” Aren’t you proud of her, though? I am. (And I still want chocolate cake).
Next up: back to the poop coach for anal electro-therapy. Sounds shockingly stimulating. The idea being to shock the muscles into remembering their actual job. This is the same idea behind spanking your kids when they’re bad. “Relax. I said RELAX! Dang-it! That’s it, 3 ... 2 ... 1 ... ZAP! Next time do as you’re told.” Good times.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
I'm Brave, Too ... ?
Other fitness friends have been brave enough to post their progress photos. I've sort of been waiting until I achieved my goal size, but since I don't know what that is, and because I feel brave tonight, here goes:
July 2008 --------------- Sept 2009
199 pounds -------------- 172 pounds
waist: 38.5 -------------- waist: 34
hips: 46.5 --------------- hips: 41.5
thigh: 27.5 --------------- thigh: 24.5
upper arm: 12.25 ----------- upper arm: 11.5
July 2008 --------------- Sept 2009
199 pounds -------------- 172 pounds
waist: 38.5 -------------- waist: 34
hips: 46.5 --------------- hips: 41.5
thigh: 27.5 --------------- thigh: 24.5
upper arm: 12.25 ----------- upper arm: 11.5
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
odds and ends
I re-measured myself last night. I saw one happy change: in my waist, which I'm happy about! I've been working out really consistently and enjoying them a lot. I've changed my workout goals: 3 (or 4) days a week, I'll do cardio classes, and I'll do my body Pump class just once a week. I've been doing Body Pump twice a week, and I hope that by changing this up, I'll burn off the fat surrounding my muscles, so you can actually see them! And hopefully my numbers will keep dropping.
And miraculously, my sweet tooth has been really absent lately. Strange, because I haven't done anything differently, but I won't complain.
My friend Caryn works for the company Beach Body. Through her, I found the blog of the creator of some of the Beach Body products. Her post on the power of positive thinking was very inspiring. And not just for getting fit, but for all aspects of your life.
And miraculously, my sweet tooth has been really absent lately. Strange, because I haven't done anything differently, but I won't complain.
My friend Caryn works for the company Beach Body. Through her, I found the blog of the creator of some of the Beach Body products. Her post on the power of positive thinking was very inspiring. And not just for getting fit, but for all aspects of your life.
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