Attention: Do not read further if fecal matter makes you wince

Saturday after re-arranging the Steelers room I fell asleep in a chair for four hours. When I came to I realized I didn't feel any better then before I had gone to sleep. All day I had been struck with diarrhea (yes, people diarrhea don't be afraid to say it aloud) but I figured it was from the vast amount of crap I had eaten the night before after painting. I went to bed and hoped it would die out overnight.

Sunday was not only more of the same, but this time it was accompanied by a fever that hovered in the 101's. The thought of eating made me nauseous, but I tried to suck down water and Gatorade to stave off dehydration, a condition I knew a tad about, but learned tons about on the net. When I would try to sleep some part of my body would begin itching and once it was scratched another part would itch. It was driving me mad and by the end of the day I was certain I was dehydrated as "dry skin" was one of the symptoms.

Around midnight I got up to go to the bathroom and suddenly got chilled. I didn't have a fever. I set out into the kitchen to get some Tylenol. The act of finding that and opening it became quite a feat. I was shaking so violently that my wedding ring was banging against the counter and echoing loudly throughout the quiet house. Madison came out to see what was going on and the look on her face told me I wasn't doing so well. She got a blanket and put it over my shoulders and got me back to bed where we woke Tom. I couldn't stop shaking. My legs were banging against the bed. My teeth were chattering. My hands were shaking. It scared the hell out of my husband who kept telling me to stop it, which I find hilarious now, but didn't appreciate at the time.

I bit my tongue several times in trying to keep my teeth together. Tom kept holding my legs down until I told him to stop that. If I was having a seizure I knew to just let me have it. Only in my head I knew I couldn't be having one because I was very aware of what was going on around me. "Am I having convulsions?" I asked Tom. He kept telling me if I didn't get a grip he was going to call a doctor. It was made as kind of a threat but by this time I was willing to get ole Doc Baker in there as fast as Tom could get him in the horse and buggy. Call a doctor? What century does this man think we live in? I did ask him what he meant by that and he had to think a minute and told me 911, and I told him that might just be the thing, but then I worried about the money end of it and thought driving me to the ER would make more sense, but then who would we call to come and take care of the kids?

Mentally I ran down the possibilities of the neighbors, my nearest friend, and of course, Kelly. Not on neighborly terms anymore with the next door neighbor since she told me how she and her housemate really feel about me and my kids, cross them off. Other neighbor can't walk this far, cross her off. Neighbors across the street have their own medical problems, cross them off. Bonnie could come, but she has to leave for work at the crack of dawn, a possibility. Jyoti would come, but she has her kid and what if her husband isn't home? She would have to wake Sarina and what a mess that would be, cross her off. Kelly. Kelly will come no matter that she has to work, but she has her machine set to answer on first ring and she doesn't know how to get her messages so how would she hear the message? Forget the ER.

Obviously, not a seizure as all these things went through my head the entire half an hour I had my chilling episode. It finally died out. By the time it died I had a raging fever. I did the bathroom thing again, took the Tylenol, and collapsed. Monday morning I went to the walk-in-clinic and got an antibiotic for treatment of a bacterial infection in the intestine.

Nine and a half years ago I came down with pretty much the same thing. It went on and on and on and on. I saw one doctor twice. I gave up breastfeeding so that I could take the medication, pumped, threw out the milk, and then had to take another medication all over again. I finally diagnosed myself with a parasite called giardia. It was something a friend of mine had had and since I had been to her place in the last month I figured that was a last resort. I went to my doctor who insisted I be tested for a parasite. I told her about giardia. She had never heard of it, looked it up, and specifically had me tested for it. It came back positive. Everyone in our family had to be tested. Both the girls had it and because they were not showing symptoms they were labeled as carriers. They too had to be treated. Eventually after months of this I was cured.

I told all of this to the nice Asian doctor at the clinic, but he didn't think it was giardia since I hadn't traveled anywhere. He hooked me up with a 5 day supply of an antibiotic and told me if it didn't work we would do further testing. It is now day 3 of the antibiotic and still the diarrhea continues. I had some mild dehydration so I continue with the liquids and electrolytes. My mouth is so dry I can now understand what my mother lives with daily. I live on Kraft mac and cheese because it is slimy and salty. I have lost over 10 pounds. I feel better except for the diarrhea. If this turns out to be giardia I shall start a clinic. I shall also be thankful that it isn't something more serious.

While I have been going through this bout of whatever it is my brother has the opposite. He was in and out of the hospital last week because he couldn't poop. He endured the NG tube down the nose and two visits to the ER. He was finally taken into emergency surgery on Friday so they could see what was going on. Turns out he had a long band of scar tissue from his intestinal surgery two years ago. His small intestine had turned on it like a bodyguard protecting his client and was slowly wrapping around the band as if to squeeze it to death. Unfortunately the small intestine was curving up into itself shutting down all pooping production. The doctors removed the band, massaged his intestines, put them back into position, and sewed him up. I'm told he has pooped and will be released today.

And that is the Mason Fecal Update.