When I was in roughly the 5th grade, I came home from school and had an afternoon snack that consisted of a couple of bananas.  It wasn’t long before I was in some of the worst pain of my life coming from my stomach.  My mom came home from work to find me in the fetal position on the family room floor, all but unable to move, sure I was dying.  She knew right away that something was horribly wrong and took me immediately to the emergency room.

As I type, I’m experiencing this exact pain again and have been for the past 24 hours.

Back to 5th grade and the emergency room.

After hours and hours of testing it was confirmed I was…

dun dun dun…

constipated.  Not just a little, but to the point that it was serious.  They, uh, treated me, cleared my system completely out, and sent me home feeling as if nothing had ever been wrong.  Also, seriously hungry because it was about 2AM, I hadn’t eaten in like 10 hours, and my system was void of everything.

20 years later, having refused to repeat the emergency room experience, I’m now slowly working on clearing everything out on my own.  I’m overdosing on miralax and coffee with the knowledge that loose stools, while unpleasant, are far better than what I’m currently going through.

Luckily, well, let’s just say that due to being lactose intolerant, I have officially sent my husband to the store after medically necessary ice cream.

I’m not going to suggest you feel jealous, because I wouldn’t wish this on anyone, but medically necessary ice cream is about the best thing ever.

Also, I officially have not eaten a banana in 20 years.