Before rushing to the bathroom again for an emergency purge, when I grabbed my stomach in pain, my friend asked again in her most worried voice, “This is all stressful. Do you think it depends? “Well, that was a fair comment. It was certainly a tricky few weeks, and she knew too. My response to her question was confusing given my predicament.
With your head stuck in the bathroom, it’s not easy to have a complete conversation. I don’t think it was a completely enjoyable experience for her either. After all, it was her bathroom. She mentioned some recent events that she believed could have caused a bout of my recent stomach problems.
In the first place, when a group of anonymous broke (I’m picking my words very carefully here, you can guess what to do from “broke”) finds it fun, trolling on social media is pretty unpleasant. All the matches threatened me with a fairly creative form of physical violence in the name of “harmless entertainment”. It wasn’t a fun experience for me (blocking, reporting, repeating) and caused quite a few sleepless nights. But I believe I’ve dealt with it as much as possible.
Somewhere I realized that these individuals weren’t the ones I wanted to have a conversation with. So they didn’t seriously undermine my social support. For example, Chap, who proudly describes himself as a genius (believe me, his Twitter profile doesn’t support one bit of this claim), doesn’t know much of his precious time. It seems that she spends her time sending offensive messages to women. Adam, I’m certainly one person who never misses communication anytime soon.
People who are more experienced in the field of social media often warn me that once you reach a certain number of followers, you can expect some abuse to be thrown at your door. Apparently that’s how it works in this modern world. Nevertheless, the whole situation was miserable and left a bad taste in my mouth.
In addition to that unfortunate situation, there were other everyday stresses that had to be addressed — my mother’s response to memory problems. Increased household expenses; I was worried about the new sharp pain in my hand that suddenly appeared last week. Make that publication deadline … There’s nothing amazing to write at home that you know.
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Zoe Holohan and her husband Brian O’Callahan Westrop before they died in a Greek fire. Photo: Andrzej Chorazyczewski
In short, as I explained to my friends, the most likely scenarios are some from my recent stomach problems, sudden changes in medications and my little quarrel with sepsis a few years ago. It was due to a long-term side effect of (in short, my internal organs were like the outside of me — a little vague).
Until a few weeks ago, I was taking a very powerful proton pump inhibitor to deal with massive gastric ulcers, acid reflux disease, and other unpleasant digestive problems (here your imagination). Can be used, I believe it doesn’t need to be spelled details).
For the past three years, these tablets have suppressed most of the worst symptoms. The problem is that the particular medicines I have been prescribed are not ideal for long-term use, especially in women of “certain age”.
It’s not fun to describe myself as a woman of a certain age, but I’m actually struggling with the obvious symptoms of menopause. It’s a completely different joy in itself. My doctor told me that if I continued to take this particular medicine, I was at risk of osteoporosis at this stage of my life, so I advised me to find another solution to my stomach problems.
This wasn’t necessarily the worst news — I recently discovered a side effect of this particular tablet, and I definitely shouldn’t miss it — it can cause significant weight gain in certain patients. ..
The reason for the increased appetite and waistline during a pandemic had nothing to do with late-night cheese and refreshing addiction. It was purely a side effect of my drug regime. This is the version of the event I’m going to continue, my bold one gets a free pass.
So the decision to take everything into consideration, stop using the proton pump and observe how the digestive system reacts, seems like a wise plan and I’d love to try it. rice field.
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Zoe Holohan wrote a book about her traumatic experience called As The Smoke Clears.Photo: Frank McGrath
Once again, I entered that “Let’s see how it goes” phase, and once again it proved to be an unstable process. Anyone who has to follow a long-term medical plan will know exactly how this feels.
There was always concern that regime changes could have unpleasant consequences, and unfortunately the results of the last two weeks were not entirely promising. My internal organs feel like they’re slowly shrinking in an acid vat, the throat lining feels permanently raw, and the intermittent pain in my stomach hinders the sleep I can manage to get. There were many opportunities — this woman needs her good sleep at a certain age!
To avoid overstatement, food no longer feels like my friend. Perhaps it’s not that bad, as it’s already been established.
Ironically, the fact that the scales sigh in relief and eventually point in the right direction does not bring me comfort. I would like to enjoy a strange luxury meal without worrying about the result, but it’s pretty good to finally slip back into my old jeans.
Instead of preparing a mellow glass of Malbec for dinner, I noticed that I was drinking back countless bottles of Gaviscon. It comes with a fine bouquet of antacids. Munch on a carton of peppermint antacids.
“The most worrisome thing is that I had to give up 0.5 gallons of Colombian coffee every day. Nowadays I can’t even smell it without nausea, so I picked up my usual morning. , Replaced with lukewarm Earl Gray tea, which is not a substitute for regular caffeinated sludge. “
Most worrisome, I had to give up 0.5 gallons of Colombian coffee every day. Recently, I couldn’t even smell without nausea, so I replaced my usual morning pickup with warm water Earl Gray tea, which is not a substitute for regular caffeinated sludge. Stubbornly, I haven’t reported any of these facts to my doctor yet, because I know there is a constant adjustment period whenever you are playing with medicines. For now, I’m bidding on my time, hoping that things will eventually settle.
In other health news, I reluctantly bid adieu to my lovely pharmacist Jacinta last week. She decided to leave our small village on a new meadow and abandon Dublin to Donegal. We can assure you that our losses are in their interests. Like many in her field, she constantly and bravely overcame the pandemic. She was always there at the end of her phone call when I was in medical trouble — alas, it was a fairly regular event.
A good pharmacist is a true gift from the gods, and she has become a reliable permanent fixture for all of us locals. So much, I hardly remember the day during the pandemic when she wasn’t brave behind the counter. In retrospect, that’s probably why she needs to rest for a while. It was her laryngeal abnormal sensation that I said goodbye to her. She wants to know that she is really grateful for their work, as is everyone who works in the field.
I hope my little screams reach Donegal Hill. Meanwhile, I raise a glass of Gaviscon to her in honor of her. Slante!
You can catch up with the next article in Zoe’s Diary on June 27th
