Strange to say, I’m almost relieved that after six months of tests and failures to listen to the patient, my doctors think I have Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS), a special feature of E. coli.  The relief comes from thinking it was something worse. The failure to listen to the patient comes from not hearing me say, “This is an infection, so stop testing for other stuff while the months go by without any treatment.” (It’s not like pushing for an antibiotic is like pushing for fentanyl.)

E. coli is often called the traveler’s disease since people often pick it up by eating or making market purchases at unsanitary places. So, did I get it traveling between the front door and the mailbox or from infected grocery store produce bought here in town? Nobody knows. Maybe the cat brought it into the house. (Bad kitty!)

A bottle of Xifaxan costs $270. That means insurance doesn’t cover it. Well, if it works, it’s worth it. The only problem is that IBS really has no cure so I’ll probably need to manage it with meds until the cows come home.

I wash everything from the produce department from salad greens to baking potatoes. My mother did it, so I do it.

I don’t eat at disreputable restaurants or drink bad whisky at biker bars.

Bottom line, I’ll probably never know where the E. coli came from. I envy the people who can eat weird food from off-grid places and never get sick.

So, if the diagnosis turns out to be correct and the meds work then 2024 will begin as a happy New Year.  I hope your New Year begins on a happy note as well. Maybe a new job, a new novel, an escape from prison, finding stolen money in the basement. It’s all good.

—Malcolm