I hate diarrhoea. It’s literally the most crippling and embarrassing sickness that plagues our lives. For years I have gone through the same mental pattern of coping as I feel my inside fall out my arse. So as I’m stuck on the toilet wondering when this agony will end, I decided to finally get these ideas written down.
Fear is always the first emotion. Even as an adult fully aware of what is happening, it still grips you. I have to reassure myself that I will survive this. After the first wave I can get my miracle medicine and be released of this possession of pure evil within two hours. That while the ring burns and my stomach is being pulled in and out like an accordion, everything will be fine. As I sit staring at my knee caps and my face ignites, my next thought arrives.
All the friends and family I have, all the celebrities and great political leaders throughout history written to be written have all been in a similar situation. Now it might be strange to consider such matters, but I feel less monstrous as I am glued to my porcelain prison.
The next symptom strikes- dehydration. That’s when the humour ends for a moment. I’m reminded of all the TV adverts about clean water and how this sickness kills. My mouth is cotton and my body begins to sweat rapidly; they’re not joking about it being a killer. I consider how fortunate I am that I have privacy, clean water and hygiene to help me get through all this. That all this is an inconvenience and not a death sentence.
All seems safe and after a flush I waddle to the sink to wash my hands. The ritual of doing a full job like I had been taught during my time within medical practices: Finger nails, wrists, palms and all. It’s necessary I do it right before I spread the illness to the rest of the house. I recall when I was younger how whenever me or my sister was ill she’s disinfect the whole bathroom the next morning. It’s something that I’ll probably do for my kids one day. Strange how even at 24 your mother is still a nurse.
The warm water then triggers a ticking time bomb within me. It won’t be long until wave two happens. There’s just enough time for me to get my magic pills that will save me and get me a bit of sleep tonight.
Wave two hits me. This time the dormant fly awakens and hoovers around me like a cliché cartoon strip. Horrible little bastard. It reminds me of the devil. Not the fire and brim stone with red skin and pointy horns. The one from South American tales, ‘Lord of Flies’ it translates as. The devil would come with a thousand flies to wipe out the living and ruin everything. The images of flies draining the fluid of those African eyes and giving them God knows what bacteria to destroy their vision flash into scope.
My body feels light, but my guts are bloated. I wash my hands once more and then stagger to bed, hoping it will all settle in the battle of the bulge. I try to get to sleep. In my peace I can reflect on the cause of this affliction. Everything I have touched, drank, eaten, hugged or interacted with. What was the odd item? The conclusion: strawberry Swiss roll. Never again.
I hope you all enjoyed a venture into my mind as I am stuck on the toilet. Hopefully it made you laugh, but also think. Water is literally the key to life and so many people are going without it. I’m not usually preachy and to be honest I’m not trying to start a revolution from my armchair. I just figure that with the Ebola break out and the on-going crises, we should all try a do our part. So if this post made you smile or think, please make a donation and change a life.
Colourful imagination with grey thoughts 