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I had a violent IBS attack today. It came on suddenly mid-morning and lasted for hours. Sometimes I think they’re getting worse and worse; other times I remember that I’ve had that exact same thought before, many times.

So far Science hasn’t had much to contribute.

I think it’s a curse, a voodoo curse my sister put on me many years ago, said powerful words, constructed a wood and twine doll of me. I can picture her sloppily crafting some doll that looks like Raggedy Ann’s crackhead aunt but with even more exaggerated freckles (half/sister half/toad), and then sticking a long hatpin into my lower intestines. I think it’s one that has, instead of a head, a low-glow dark silver fake pearl in the shape of an oval.

I acknowledge that this sounds somewhat far-fetched but please keep in mind that:
a) You’ve never met my sister; and
b) I’m not a doctor.

There are all kinds of possible triggers, foods and so forth. I’ve tested them all. Sometimes they trigger, sometimes they don’t. One thing the Docs think, though, is that it’s stress related. They recommend meditation and yoga.

Done and Done.

Meditation and yoga have given me all the benefits your friends have already bored you with. It has enhanced my life in ways I cannot easily quantify and I never want to stop.

It has also, unfortunately, made absolutely no impact on my IBS.

One thing, though, is that voodoo curse. The mere idea that my go-to explanation for a very distressing malady is that my older, only sibling invoked the supernatural in order to harm me makes me wonder: Is that what they mean by stress?