Conversation: How irritable bowel syndrome took over Tim Phelan's life
In 1988, Tim Phelan was an ambitious new college grad with a degree in French and economics. He dreamed of becoming a successful international businessman–but his life took quite a different turn, thanks to his overactive bowels. Through more than a decade of battling what he would eventually find out was irritable bowel syndrome, he lost a job and several relationships, unwilling to discuss his symptoms with anyone and obsessed with never being far from a bathroom. Now 39, he is able to speak frankly about his travails with IBS–and recently did with U.S. News–and has shared lessons learned in a new book, Romance, Riches, and Restrooms: A Cautionary Tale of Ambitious Dreams and Irritable Bowels (iUniverse, $19.95).
How did irritable bowel first hit you?
I'd just graduated from college. I had this great job as a fundraiser at this boarding school up in New Jersey–I was going to get to rub elbows with all of the school's graduates, some of the top movers and shakers. And I thought, OK, I'm on the fast track.
Then three months into this job, this urgency to use the bathroom came out of nowhere, at a very inopportune time. I was at an alumni luncheon in New York. There was salad and prime rib and potatoes, and everything's going along great; I'm doing my best to fit in.
I realize I have to go to the bathroom as the headmaster launches into a speech. This is the guy who has just taken a chance on hiring me. Between me and the entrance to the men's room are 150 people I'm looking to impress. So I ended up sitting there for probably an hour, struggling to batten down my backside. Luckily, I made it through.
Before I knew it, I became obsessed with knowing the exact location of a toilet before I went anywhere. So if someone said, "Hey, let's go to dinner," I'm thinking, "Hmmm, where are we going to go, is there going to be traffic on the way, are we going to get stuck, will there be a bathroom?"
Can you describe how IBS took over your life?
Nobody likes driving during rush-hour traffic. But my concern was for completely different reasons: Who knows, we might get stopped at a light. Or flying on airplanes. I don't have a fear of crashing or dying. My fear is being strapped in a seat and not being able to go to the bathroom.
I was in sales for 10 years. Whenever I went to a sales call, I made a point of taking a route that would have the most bathrooms possible. Before I even left my office, I'd stop two or three times. Then hopefully there was a McDonald's or a convenience store or something, some kind of restaurant or hotel I could pull into. It wasn't uncommon to stop six or seven times in a half-hour before getting to my sales meeting. I make the analogy to an empty tube of toothpaste. It's never really empty. You can always get a little bit more out of it.
advertisement
