Legendary Diarrhea

Catchy title isn't it?

We've all heard the stories (or maybe some of you haven't, I run with a pretty foul crowd) of diarrhea so heinous it seems to defy the laws of physics and anatomy. Some never think much about it at all (it is sorta gross after all). Others write it off as an urban myth, like the alligator in the sewers of New York (but it really happened to my sister's boyfriend's roommate from college!). But some, a proud and watchful few, know it to be real. I'm speaking of the Legendary Diarrhea.

Dear readers, I must advise you that while I maintain a clean and family-friendly atmosphere here, there are subjects (like today's) that require frankness. Sure, it may be funny, but what lies ahead is not for the faint of heart. A killer lies among us, waiting to strike. And I will not stand idly by while it claims another victim. Proceed at your own risk.

I can't recall exactly where I heard the story first, and I'd probably keep it anonymous even if I could. The victim was in the prime of life. Fit, young, virile. That's when it likes to strike. It's no fun laying low the elderly (well, it might be a little fun, but the AARP goes nuts!). While no one knows for sure where the illness came from, the victim claimed it originated in a bad "Reese's Pieces." That's right, ladies and gentlemen, not even E.T.'s favorite candy is safe. He was going about his business, enjoying a late night video game session with friends when all of a sudden, LD struck.

It presented itself as gas. Not the kind you fuel your car with, or heat your house. No, the gas that you blame on the dog, or fire in the direction of your enemies. But this gas was not amusing. It was painful, and its release was accompanied by...how to be delicate here...fluids. That's right, fluids where no fluids should be. Sure, the victim was uncomfortable, but soon enough his business seemed to be done. He recovered himself, washed his hands and retreated to his bedroom to lie down, cursing that "Reese's Pieces." But the LD was not done with our boy.

Not fifteen minutes had passed when again the victim found himself...bloated. Full to brimming as it were. He waddled to the bathroom as fast as his discomfort would allow, and was surprised when again the situation...exploded (just use your imagination). Now surely, the victim thought, he had not only gotten rid of the offending food, but anything else that might have been hiding in his small intestine. He retired to his bed, longing for the rest of sleep. It was not to be.

The story that was told to me continued for several dozen more bathroom trips over the next 48 hours. The victim made a valiant effort at hydration, but sadly lost his battle with LD and expired. The peace that he could not find on the toilet, finally found him in death. It's true. It happened to my sister's boyfriend's old college roommate. I swear.

Alright, so I was skeptical of the existence of LD, too. It's easy to buy into the stories of Sasquatch (or Rosie O'Donnell as the Native Americans refer to him), and anyone can see the logic behind Gilligan being Kennedy's assassin (we know why you took that three hour tour!), but come on. Killer Diarrhea? I don't buy it. Or, at least I didn't.

Being the Drunken Rogue comes with certain powers and abilities. I have a stronger than average constitution, am impervious to all truth serums, and I have the uncanny ability to burp the entire Beatles catalog. Generally, I don't get sick. So, Tuesday morning on our way back to Ruston when I had to pull over with car-sickness, I didn't think much of it. I hadn't had anything to drink the night before, but surely life owes me a couple of hang overs. And later that day, when I went to the bathroom at work for the third time in an hour, I still wasn't really worried. I probably just ate a little more than I should have the night before. It was the sixth trip to the bathroom, when I discovered that both my ends longed to be aimed towards the toilet that I realized there was something wrong.

Whatever you've heard about "the virus" that's going around (no, not Ebola. The stomach virus) it's much, much worse. I had no idea that my body had so much in it, nor that it could come out so quickly. I have gained a newfound respect for my digestive tract, and its processes.

As I sit here typing, nearly three days since the LD struck, I am weakened, I am bruised from battle, but I am resolute and recovering. Stand vigilant, my friends. There is danger behind that burrito, and death in the double dip. We stand prepared, or we lie defeated.