The young woman was no stranger to gut issues. But now the pressure in her abdomen had become an emergency.
The 22-year-old woman almost wept as the long line of passengers finally surged forward to the front of the plane. She had been in pain for the entire 90-minute flight. Her abdomen was so distended and tender that she felt as if it might burst. Her seatmates had hidden their irritation as she shifted constantly in her seat in search of a comfortable position. The man in the aisle seat stood up each time she made her way to the bathroom. It didn’t do any good. Nothing came out. Not even gas.
The Charlotte Douglas International Airport in North Carolina stretched endlessly before her as she hefted her bulky knapsack from one shoulder to the other. Every step jostled her guts uncomfortably. Even without the weight of the pack, standing up straight was strangely difficult, as if a cord inside her was suddenly shorter.
She found her mother’s car in the line of idling vehicles outside. As she lowered herself into the passenger seat, her mother turned to her. “What’s wrong?” she asked. The young woman’s face looked rigid with pain. It was her stomach, the young woman said. As usual. She’d had problems with her stomach all her life. Going to the bathroom regularly had been an issue for years. Milk gave her cramps. Acidic foods gave her heartburn. And her stomach was always off after her college swim-team practices. She blamed the mouthfuls of chlorinated water that forced their way in as she sprinted the length of the pool. That at least was over, as she had graduated a few weeks earlier. Both mother and daughter assumed she just had a sensitive stomach. And their pediatrician agreed. It all seemed normal enough.
But a few months earlier, the mother noticed a change. A couple of times in their weekly conversations, the symptoms her daughter complained about sounded different — and a lot worse. The girl had always mentioned her sensitive stomach. Now she described constipation, bloating and intermittent, terrible pain. Once, her daughter sounded so awful over the phone that her mother became worried and suggested she go to the emergency room. But these pains never lasted long, her daughter assured her. Seeing her now, clearly in distress, the mother was concerned again. And again her daughter tried to reassure her: She had started to feel better as soon as she left the airplane, she said. What she needed now was a good night’s sleep.
This Time It Didn’t Pass
The next morning, she was better, though her mother could see that her stomach was still distended. She ate breakfast eagerly and settled in for a day of relaxing. But by late afternoon, the young woman could feel the symptoms returning. She could only eat a couple of mouthfuls of dinner. Her abdomen grew even larger than it had been the night before. The pressure was almost unbearable. She paced around the house, unable to sit but in pain when she walked. It felt as if her abdomen might explode and some terrible sci-fi creature would burst out. She tried going to the bathroom; she hadn’t moved her bowels in days. Nothing. She tried to make herself vomit. She heaved but only produced a sharp acidic mouthful of bile. She felt cold, then hot, then cold again. Sweat dripped down her face and drenched her shirt. Her mother, seeing the daughter’s distress, brought cool compresses and suggested going to the hospital again and again, her daughter deferring every time.
She took a laxative. It didn’t help. She lay down and, when that was too painful, resumed her restless pacing. “It’s not getting better,” her mother announced at last. “We have to go to the E.R.”