The Ballad of My Rebellious Bowels (Polished Edition)

My gut and I — it’s a complicated relation,
It throws more tantrums than a toddler on vacation.
I’ve tried every diet known to humankind —
Low FODMAP, SCD, and a few I just designed.

Prep day — oh glory! What a magical sight,
Chugging potions that taste like Satan’s Sprite.
Four litres of “lemon-flavoured” lies,
While my toilet and I form eternal ties.

The colonoscopy doc said with genuine glee,
“Your colon’s in 4K — come, have a see!”
I watched my insides on that HD screen,
The priciest film I’ve ever seen.

I’m a connoisseur of public bathroom locations,
I rate them like fine wine across all nations.
Barnes & Noble, second floor? A solid nine.
Gas station on Route 5? No — not this time.

Finding meds that work is like dating, but worse —
Remicade, Humira, Stelara — my verse.
“This one may cause fungus!” “This one, maybe cancer!”
“This one might make you a backup dancer!”

My chemist knows me by sight and by name,
We chat about bowels — there’s no hint of shame.
My pill box is bursting, it’s honestly mad,
Organising doses has become a new fad.

So here’s to the warriors whose guts misbehave,
Who smile through the scopes and pretend to be brave.
We’ve seen our own colons in stunning HD,
And lived to laugh about our IBD.

Remember, my friends — if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry,
And crying dehydrates — so keep spirits high.
Raise your water, your meds, your banana purée —
Here’s to surviving another flare day!