Poop Story

10/11 Today I'm a new man--revived by a trip to the can. I shit you not (pun intended), I'd not taken a satisfactory deuce, before this afternoon, since July. July. Did you catch the date on this one? Mid October.
The start of August coincided with the worst diarrhea of my life. Checking my Peace Corps med book, seems I landed myself some E. Coli or Salmonella. Bowel movement quality fluctuated over the next two and a half months, but the average was quite a bit more watery than beef stew. Imagery, nice! 
The doc couldn't find any nasties in my sample when I finally made it to the health center. She figured I'd passed whatever had been living in my gut, and so I thought diet must be my problem. I made adjustments based on the doc's suggestions and my own superstitions. This was back in early September. No dice, it just wouldn't resolve, and I started to worry some lasting damage had been done during the initial illness or else occurred over the long haul. 
I'm only mortified to admit I seriously worried I would graduate to Depends several decades too early, as the frequency and urgency of my bathroom trips only intensified upon return to Houk. Dark days in the Pacific, dear readers. And so it was with a light heart today that I heard a heavy, but singular, splash while doing my business. 
In closing, to my lovely grandparents, I'm so sorry if you read this. To my parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, brother and friends, I give no apology. Bowel movements are a primary topic of conversation in Peace Corps, and I can't think of a one of you who is truly above bathroom humor. No offense, Mom. Love you all!