Gut wrenching tales

It is not unusual for people to experience a significant slow down of the digestive system post surgery. Anesthesia aids and abets in this endeavor, narcotics for pain, same, and inactivity completes the holy trinity of system shut down. I am well aware of this, having had a few surgeries in the past, and my system has responded like any other, with the usual protests, and encouragement needed to come back online.

This time, however, the surgery was longer, the immediate recovery more painful, and level of inactivity extreme, and my system decided that the best response was to just leave an away message that it would be unavailable for the foreseeable future. I have been long trained to listen to my gut, and I tried. Honestly, I tried. When it refused to answer me, or come back online, it meant extreme measures were called for. I was not really familiar with these, but was unable to ignore the discomfort and distention of my belly, and sent my husband in search of OTC relief. There are lots of options, and we tried a couple, but I could feel my system turning up its nose and laughing at my puerile attempts. So I took it to the ER, where they tried their methods, to no effect.

That was an unsettling and lengthy way to have no good impact on my poor tum, so I inadvertently double dosed myself with powerful system flushers. This eventually got the attention of my languishing system, and as anyone who has experienced a pre-colonoscopy cleanse knows, it is not subtle. New challenges concomitant with this included severe cramping. It felt like Braxton Hicks contractions, except they were lasting for hours at a stretch. (I suppose the same could be said for labor pains, or pre labor pains). It makes walking tricky when your stomach is clenched and doing crunches all on its own. I appreciate that I’m sure its intent is for me to get a leg up on all the crunches I will need to do later on, but how do I convince it that I am up to the task?

The ongoing dialogue continues with my gut, but we are reaching a new equilibrium. I have hopes that we will get back to our usual state of not having to work at it too much, but in the meantime, I am being careful to be extra nice: feeding it good food in smaller quantities so that it can readjust to its new state.

I have yet to catalogue the stories that have arisen, people letting me know that I am not alone. There are tips like being sure to put your feet on a step stool while on the throne, a tale of an Amazon order to an island in Maine, and the many reviews that kept my friend entertained while she waited for help to arrive. We are all human, and we all need to communicate on a gut level. It is clearly part of my training to remain flexible, and to learn a refined language about what makes a gut connection.

Now if only the clenching can please let up, so that I can start to return to my former level of activity, I would appreciate that.