Get your tummy Right When On Your Vacation

Stomach Problems While Traveling: How to Keep Your Tummy in Check on Vacation

There are some things about travel nobody wants to talk about.

Diarrhea is one of them.

Constipation isn’t exactly a great dinner-table conversation either. Add gas, nausea, an unfamiliar bathroom, a tiny airplane restroom, and the possibility that you’re traveling alone, and suddenly a stomach problem can become a much bigger travel problem than you ever expected.

I know because I’ve been there.

Actually, I’ve been there twice.

Both times were connected to trips to New Orleans, and both taught me something I probably should have learned the first time: when I travel, I need to prepare for my stomach just like I prepare for everything else.

For those of us traveling with chronic illness, digestive problems can be especially complicated. Medications, changes in diet and routine, stress, dehydration, unfamiliar foods, and illness can all become part of the equation. And if you’re traveling solo, there may not be someone standing next to you who can run to the drugstore or grab clean clothes when things go spectacularly wrong.

So yes, we’re going to talk about poop.

Because sometimes traveling smarter means talking about the things everybody else would rather pretend never happen.

My First Lesson: What I Call “Death Diarrhea”

I went to New Orleans to visit a former dog-sitting client who had become a dear friend. I had planned the trip quite a while before my visit, and I was excited because it would be my first time in New Orleans.

Unfortunately, my back had other plans.

I had dealt with back problems since my twenties, and by this point my L1 was deteriorating badly enough that I needed surgery. Nothing had been scheduled yet, so I was hobbling around in considerable pain.

But I was determined to go.

Then, while I was in New Orleans, one of my closest friends died.

It hit me like a ton of bricks.

Then my uncle died unexpectedly too.

My friend’s memorial was going to take place earlier than originally expected, and I tried to get home early. But I’d bought one of those super-cheap airline tickets where changing the itinerary would have essentially meant buying another ticket.

I couldn’t afford it.

I missed the memorial.

Despite my back pain and everything that was happening emotionally, I really did love New Orleans. My friend made me feel at home. The food was wonderful, the music was everywhere, and I had conversations with complete strangers who somehow felt like people I’d known for years.

Then it was time to fly home.

Sitting on the airplane, I started thinking about the two people I’d lost. The grief hit me. I was trying to cry quietly rather than completely lose it in the middle of an airplane.

Then my stomach started bubbling.

I thought it was gas.

It was not gas.

This is where I introduce you to something I call death diarrhea.

That’s not a medical diagnosis. It’s simply the name I gave one of the most miserable bouts of diarrhea I have ever experienced, which happened while I was dealing with intense grief and stress.

And I was trapped on an airplane.

I ran to that tiny airplane bathroom and discovered just how unprepared I was.

I ended up throwing away my underwear and trying to clean myself with airplane paper towels that felt approximately like sandpaper. Then I spent the next several hours going back and forth to that tiny restroom.

It was uncomfortable.

It was embarrassing.

And apparently, it taught me absolutely nothing.

Because I needed to learn this lesson twice.

New Orleans, Round Two

A couple of years passed.

By then I’d had successful back surgery, gone through rehabilitation and exercise, and I could walk upright again. I’d even completed a 30-day European vacation successfully.

I felt good.

So when I returned to New Orleans, I wasn’t particularly worried about my body betraying me again.

Then I went to a restaurant on Bourbon Street.

I had a delicious lunch and got a little greedy. I ate a dozen grilled oysters on the half shell. I’m used to fried oysters, but these were grilled with butter and Parmesan cheese.

Rich. Delicious.

And apparently my stomach had some opinions about my decision.

Later, back at my friend’s shotgun house, I felt diarrhea coming on. I went to bed thinking it would run its course.

It didn’t.

I woke up in a puddle of diarrhea.

Yes. In the bed.

There really isn’t an elegant way to tell that part of the story.

I jumped up in horror, took off my nightclothes, stripped the bed, cleaned the floor, cleaned myself up, and took a shower.

Fortunately, my friend had a washing machine.

I dreaded telling her what happened, but when I finally did, we laughed about it. She gave me some Imodium, and eventually the situation settled down.

But afterward I started thinking.

What if I’d been in a hotel?

What if there hadn’t been a washing machine?

What if I’d been on a long-distance flight again?

What if I’d been traveling alone?

That is when the lesson finally stuck.

An Embarrassing Stomach Problem Can Become a Travel Problem

Diarrhea isn’t merely inconvenient. You’re losing fluid, and significant diarrhea can lead to dehydration. Warning signs can include extreme thirst or dry mouth, urinating less than normal, dark urine, fatigue, dizziness, and lightheadedness.

That matters for any traveler, but it deserves particular attention if you’re older, immunocompromised, have another health condition, or take medications that could complicate the situation.

That’s one reason I no longer think of digestive preparation as an embarrassing little extra.

It’s part of my travel health plan.

And this is also why I’ve learned to plan trips around what my body may actually do rather than what I hope it will do. My article, How to Plan a Trip When Your Energy Is Unpredictable can help you plan a vacation despite your issues with energy.

What Goes in My Tummy-Emergency Kit Now

After learning the hard way, I don’t want to find myself on another airplane desperately wishing I had packed a few basic things.

A gastrointestinal emergency kit doesn’t need to take up half your suitcase. Mine is about being able to get through the immediate problem until I can reach my hotel, a pharmacy, or medical care.

I want access to:

• any digestive medication my healthcare provider has told me is appropriate for me

• oral rehydration or electrolyte packets

• a change of underwear

• lightweight clean clothes in my carry-on

• compressed towels or gentle wipes

• sealable plastic bags for dirty clothing

• hand sanitizer

• tissues or toilet paper

• any supplies I personally need because of my health conditions or medications

Current CDC travel-health guidance includes loperamide as a possible option for certain cases of non-bloody diarrhea and oral rehydration solution for replacing fluids and electrolytes after more significant diarrhea or vomiting. Travelers who are prone to constipation may also want to discuss appropriate options with their healthcare provider.

But there’s an important word in all of that advice:

Appropriate.

Something being available over the counter doesn’t automatically make it appropriate for every person or every type of diarrhea.

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About That Imodium

In the original version of this article, I essentially said that if I’d had Imodium or another anti-diarrheal medication with me, my problems could have been avoided.

Today, I’d phrase that differently.

Loperamide—the medication in Imodium—can reduce the frequency and urgency of diarrhea and is one option the CDC discusses for travelers’ diarrhea. However, the CDC advises against using loperamide alone when diarrhea is bloody or accompanied by fever.

The FDA also warns that taking more loperamide than recommended can cause serious heart problems. Follow the package directions or your healthcare provider’s instructions rather than assuming more medication will solve the problem faster.

If you live with chronic illness or take several medications, this is a good conversation to have before you travel:

“If I develop diarrhea or constipation while I’m away, what is safe for me to take?”

That’s a much better question to answer at home than while standing in an unfamiliar pharmacy feeling miserable.

Hydration Matters More Than I Used to Realize

One of the biggest changes I’d make to the advice I gave when I first wrote this article is putting hydration much higher on the list.

Replacing lost fluids is important when diarrhea occurs. With more substantial fluid loss, oral rehydration solutions can help replace both water and electrolytes.

That doesn’t mean every episode of diarrhea requires a special product. It means I don’t want to ignore fluid loss while concentrating entirely on stopping the diarrhea.

For someone traveling with chronic illness, hydration may require more individual planning. If you’ve been given specific medical instructions about fluid or sodium intake, talk with your healthcare provider before the trip about what you should do if vomiting or diarrhea occurs.

This is one of those situations where Plan A, Plan B, and Plan C can matter.

Plan A may be enjoying the day you planned.

Plan B may be staying close to the hotel and resting.

Plan C may mean canceling the day’s plans and getting medical help.

Take a look at my article, How to Plan a Trip When Your Energy Is Unpredictable includes a free downloadable Plan A, B & C Vacation Days worksheet to help you plan you trip to accommodate your conditions.

Changing the plan isn’t failing at travel. Sometimes it’s exactly what allows you to keep traveling.

Sometimes the Best Treatment Is Knowing When You Need Help

This is another lesson missing from my original article.

Not every stomach problem should be handled by swallowing an over-the-counter medication and continuing the sightseeing schedule.

For adults, warning signs that warrant medical attention can include signs of dehydration, frequent vomiting, severe abdominal or rectal pain, black or bloody stools, high fever, six or more loose stools in a day, or diarrhea lasting more than two days. Some people—including those with weakened immune systems and certain other medical circumstances—can have a greater risk of complications.

That’s especially important when traveling solo.

I don’t want to prove how tough I am by dragging myself through a museum while I’m dehydrated and getting sicker.

Sometimes Plan B is going back to the hotel.

Sometimes Plan C is finding medical care.

And if something serious happens away from home, knowing ahead of time what your travel insurance covers and how to use it can remove one more problem from an already stressful situation. My article, When Your Vacation Goes Sideways—Using Travel Insurance When Things Go Wrong & Travel Disaster Toolkit will help you negotiate insurance for your next big vacation.

That’s still traveling.

Food Safety Without Being Afraid to Eat Anything

After my oyster incident, it would be easy for me to tell you never to eat oysters on vacation.

I’m not going to do that.

Food is one of my favorite parts of travel.

Certain foods do carry greater risk, including raw or undercooked meat, seafood, shellfish and eggs, unpasteurized dairy products, and some raw produce. In destinations where sanitation or water quality is uncertain, fully cooked food served hot is generally a safer choice.

But even careful travelers can develop stomach problems.

The goal isn’t to become terrified of eating.

The goal is to understand the risk and make informed choices.

I’m still going to enjoy the local food.

I’m just also going to pack clean underwear.

Experience has taught me things.

Don’t Forget the Other Problem: Constipation

Diarrhea gets all the attention because it’s dramatic.

Constipation can quietly ruin a trip too.

Travel changes routines. You’re sitting longer. You’re eating differently. Your schedule changes. You may not be drinking as much water as usual. And some people already know that certain medications or disruptions in their routine affect their digestive system.

If constipation is something you regularly deal with, talk with your healthcare provider before your trip about what you normally use and whether you should bring it.

Again, the point isn’t to pack an entire drugstore.

It’s to avoid discovering at 11 p.m. in a strange city that the one thing you need is sitting in your medicine cabinet at home.

Traveling With Chronic Illness Changes the Equation

This is something I didn’t understand nearly as well when I originally wrote this article.

For travelers who are immunocompromised, foodborne and waterborne illnesses can sometimes be more serious. That makes paying attention to food, drinking water, hygiene, medications, and your own symptoms especially important.

But that doesn’t mean people with chronic illness shouldn’t travel.

It means preparation matters.

I already plan around energy, medications, rest, and what I’ll do if my body doesn’t cooperate. Digestive health belongs on that same list.

If traveling with a body that doesn’t always cooperate sounds familiar, you’ll find more practical advice in my Traveling With Chronic Illness section.

Make travel fit your body. Make travel fit your life.

Your trip doesn’t have to look like anybody else’s.

My Carry-On Rule: Pack for the First Few Hours of a Disaster

Here’s a rule I’ve developed from experiences like these:

If something goes wrong, what would I desperately wish I had during the first few hours?

That’s what goes in my carry-on.

Because clean underwear buried inside a checked suitcase underneath an airplane isn’t going to do me any good.

Neither is my medication.

Neither are my wipes.

Neither is anything else I can’t reach.

I can’t prepare for every possible thing that could happen on a trip. Nobody can.

But I can prepare for things that have a reasonable chance of happening—especially the things my own body has already demonstrated it’s perfectly capable of doing.

And believe me, my body has provided plenty of research material.

The Real Lesson From My New Orleans Disasters

Looking back, the funniest part is that it took me two New Orleans diarrhea disasters before I finally got the message.

The first time I was stuck in an airplane bathroom cleaning myself with paper towels that felt like sandpaper.

The second time I was stripping a bed at my friend’s house.

You would think one would have been enough.

Now digestive-health supplies are simply part of the way I pack.

Not because I’m expecting something terrible to happen.

Because I know I’ll feel more confident knowing I’m prepared if it does.

That is a theme you’ll hear from me again and again at The Single, Sick & Broke Traveler.

Preparation isn’t pessimism. It gives me freedom.

I don’t need perfect health, a perfect stomach, or a perfectly predictable trip to travel. I need to understand what my body might do, make a reasonable plan for it, and then go live my life.

And if all else fails?

At least I packed clean underwear.

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Medical Disclaimer: This article shares my personal travel experiences and general travel-health information and is not medical advice. Talk with your healthcare provider about medications, hydration, dietary restrictions, and an appropriate plan for managing digestive problems based on your individual health conditions and medications.

My lovely friend Yvonne and me on a bayou tour outside of New Orleans

Yvonne and me at Oktoberfest in New Orleans

The Single, Sick & Broke Traveler

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