You may think that my motor neuron disorder is the main health challenge I have, but I tell you it's constipation. That's what's killing me. The MND is just the anvil, the constipation is the hammer. So I spend most of my attention these days on keeping the Evil One at bay.
After the awful episode that was resolved June 1 -- which came only a week after the prior crisis -- I have been hyper-vigilant, on the assumption that I am now dependent on laxatives.
I even picked up the prescription Miralax (Polyethylene Glycol 3350), planning to take it daily, all in order to forfend the Evil One. Drug dependence is a big deal for me, and something I'd like to avoid. But the Evil One is just so awful that I'd gladly become a laxative addict in order to escape the torture. I am tired of being killed.
On June 1, I started doing Citrucel before bed as well as in the morning, in the hopes that maybe I could forfend the laxative dependence for a bit. I produced a poopie on each of the mornings of June 2, 3, 4, 5 6, 7, and 8.
That's encouraging. But usually the Evil One strikes just when I start to get my hopes up, after a good series like this. I'm not going to get my hopes up until July 1.