You're reading it. I wash my hands of it being TMI. You were warned...
Yesterday I willingly ate a radioactive sandwich.
Yesterday afternoon it suddenly occurred to me that I take 6 pills a day to reduce my chances of getting colon cancer -- people with Crohn's have a much higher risk of getting it, I guess because instead of smooth healthy happy shiny cells lining our intestinal tracts we have cranky irritable damaged ucky cells lining our intestinal tracts, and those suckers are much more likely to go mutant.
(Yeah. I have a truly scientific mind, no?)
So suddenly it occurs to me that I have radioactive poo working it's way down my colon. And in my truly scientific mind, radioactive egg + cranky colon = cancer.
Not really. I know it was a very weakly radioactive bit of egg, and that the risks of this test are small.
But in my non-rational part of the brain, I am thinking "I need to poo. I need to poo."
And true to my uncooperative digestive tract, I didn't have to poo. Not as soon as I would have liked, at least.
Good news, though, the new anti-nausea drug seems to work, without sedating the hell out of me. Woot!