A subject in America that typically is allowed only between old folks in casual coffee conversation - to beat the alliteration thing into the ground - is the digestive tract difficulties that we face in PTSD. Now which is the cause and which the effect is what is affecting my meager miniscule mind this merely muggy morn. Some days it seems that the gut begins the grumbling which in turn leads to the anxiety that I will anti-gravitate my latest burger bomb in a public forum to my humble humiliation. Other times, the anxiety or depression seems to begin the aggressive attempt by my alimentary contents to appear in my immediate area. Many times, I just don't freakin' know what started it.
The fear of public expectoration is partially related to a hiatal hernia. This is a hernia at the other end, so to speak, wherein the stomach wants to climb up above the diaphragm. This condition usually appears at times of impending performance such as standing up to speak, addressing the judge, singing the national anthem before the Children's Patriot Day celebration or any other public trigger event that puts stress on even those without Petey Esdy as a casual friend. (As a PTSD sufferer, I of course do not actually do any of the aforementioned things.) The old stomach-in-my-throat thing is actually a diagnosed medical condition for some of us.
Other things that can pile on us along with the PTSD are chronic bowel inflammation, Crone's Disease, oops, that's Crohn's Disease,(the other one is only for certain old folks), diverticulitis, spastic colon, food allergies, ulcerative colitis, and many other things that cause the yards of tubing in the gut to swell up and complain with the pain. I enjoyed several orthopedic surgeries, but only one internal invasion, and guts I can tell you do not like to be uncomfortable, cut on, or messed with in any way. Feelings of fear rise up with the guts and you know the thoughts: 'I'm having a heart attack!' or 'Cancer! It's got to be cancer this time.' Perhaps your imagination comes up with other thoughts having to do with doom and internal destruction on a gastric scale. We the sufferers do it to ourselves too many times to count.
The purpose of this little discussion in gastric grossness is to remind us that some of the feelings we think are just the fear and anxiety are in fact rooted in physical symptoms. I once was the happiest stomach flu sufferer in the company. A silly thing to claim, but after several incidents of running for home from work only to feel better almost before I could climb in the truck, it was a relief to have an actual physical ailment to report. Bosses understand the flu, the stomach flu, gushing out both ends, hacking up a lung, and other 'real' symptoms. The pains from PTSD, though no less real to us, do not rate the same amount of belief on the ol' boss scale of perceived pain and suffering sufficient to avoid slaving away for the greater glory of the corporation.
God bless you!Bucky
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