Irony oh ironee

So there I was full of the singular determination that I would change my script. That I didn’t need to carry the duvet of pain around with me. Regardless that I have shed this weight no less than 5 times, the last time honing myself into a runner who could happily run 4 to 6 miles a day. ( I just had to put that in there)

That I would leave it all behind and start afresh with love and energy to go forth and whittle. And then the pain arrived … inside… this searing mind numbing abdominal pain.

I have had it before, put it down to dickieness of the tummy, self-diagnosed IBS person. Sure that is what it is. A touch of. The ould murder guts.

If there was nowt on the telly we’d listen to the boom bang gurgle of my insides. Endless entertainment for the easily amused,

So the short version is I went to the doctor (a kindly neighbour drove my there) and got pills that work for stomach ulcers. And the bag feels a heap better. Still feels like someone has been in there with a hack saw, but better than yesterday.

So my script is, all is well.

So have you come across the concept that microbes in the gut have an effect on one’s mental health. I am randomly researching the idea which is fascinating and compelling.

There is a book called Follow Your Gut by Rob Knight that I want to read.

I leave you with one of my favourite pieces of writing on microbes

by Myles Na gCopaleen

“The Brother can’t look at an egg.”

“Is that so?”

“Can’t stand the sight of an egg at all. Rashers, ham, fish, anything you like to mention – he’ll eat them all and ask for more. But he can’t go the egg. Thanks very much all the same but no eggs. The egg is barred.”

“I see.”

“I do often hear him talking about the danger of eggs. You can get all classes of disease from eggs, so the brother says.”

“That is disturbing news.”

“The trouble is that the egg never dies. It is full of all classes of microbes and once the egg is down below in your bag, they do start moving around and eating things, delighted with themselves. No trouble to them to start some class of an ulcer on the sides of the bag.”

“I see.”

“Just imagine all your men down there walking up and down your stomach and maybe breeding families, chawing and drinking and feeding away there, it’s a wonder we’re not all in our graves man, with all them hens in the country.”

“I must remember to avoid eggs.”

“I chance an odd one meself but one of these days I’ll be a sorry man. Here’s me Drimnagh bus, I’ll have to lave yeh, don’t do anything when your uncle’s with you, as the man said.”

“Good Bye.”

 

The Best of Myles p52