Don't drink the water....no, really....do NOT drink it!

    It has been a long week. A long, torturous, dehydrating, week. A week spent in the bathroom more than any one human should ever have to. Even this human, who just so happens to have chronic inflammatory bowel disease. After all, the bathroom and I are good friends already. I refer to said bathroom as "my office". I accomplish more in that single bathroom than I accomplish in any other space in or out of my home. Too much information, perhaps, but honest. I am not one to sugarcoat things. Crap happens. And, sometimes, crap happens to the point that you are convinced that death is surely imminent. 

 

    You see, upon careful reflection of my recent intestinal bacterial infection, (hindsight is 20/20, you know),  I think I may have possibly pinpointed the precise moment that I potentially infected myself with this bacteria (AKA: Mr. Evil Stomach Bacteria, as I so affectionately refer to it as). And, to admit this to anyone is difficult for me because it exemplifies my foolishness, my willingness to put my trust into something that should never, ever, ever, EVER be trusted: Mexico's water. You see, last Friday morning, I went to a lovely restaurant here in Juarez, called 'El Comal', that is nestled inside this charming hotel, the 'Maria Bonita'. And, although I ate extremely healthy, and chose my foods carefully to avoid too much sugar, fat, etc., I did not give a passing thought to the ice that floated in my glass of water. I left feeling very chummy with myself and my food choices. Friday passed relatively uneventful, as far as the state of my health went. I have been in the middle of a flare-up with my CIBD, but seemed to feel OK that day. Then, on Saturday, my stomach was upset. So not unusual for me. Fatigue set in. Again, nothing out of the ordinary. That night, we stopped to eat at Subway, before taking our kids to the "feria" (in English, that is a fair, or carnival), and I ordered a Chicken Bacon Ranch sub with a ton of veggies, and a fountain drink to boot. With ice. From the fountain machine. Which probably came from an ice maker in the back. Which probably makes ice from the tap water. The unfiltered, non-purified tap water. That is where I attempted aquatic suicide. Not by trying to drown myself, but by merely drinking the (most likely tainted) ice cubes.

     I have drank things in Juarez with ice cubes in it through the years, and have been alright. That is where I was fooled. I was fooled into thinking that all the hoopla about "don't drink the water" was somewhat mythical, or at least urban legend. I thought wrong. You see, if you have a chronic intestinal disease, and your immune system is already compromised by that, drinking the water in Mexico is like gambling. You might win 5 out of 6 times, but eventually you will lose. And, I, my friends am a loser. I know I can't PROVE it was the water, but I can't prove it wasn't either. Two doctors visits, one week, and five hundred pesos later, I am starting to feel human again. Not completely human, but a little. I praise Jesus for that, because there were a few times that I thought I would surely die. I cried, I prayed, I pooped. Not necessarily in that order, but you get the idea.

    So, after hours upon countless hours of important "meetings" in my "office" (that's what I refer to my bathroom as, in case you weren't paying attention), I decided to spruce it up a little. I bought a couple new pictures from Family Dollar to hang up and a new coordinating bath rug. I'm on a budget, and have no shame in admitting I shop at FD...I love FD! I would shop there even if I wasn't on a budget. I feel I have earned those bathroom improvements. I just hate that it took a near death experience to convince me that I am worth it. OK, so maybe that last statement seems a little dramatic, but I don't think so.