The relation between food, a doctor and porcelain

Been having some troubles with my intestines for some time now. Had no idea what it was, so the medical cavalry was called in this Wednesday evening. The three of us, San, our wonderful landlady and me, entered the hospital and after some asking around, I was put on an examination table. It appeared that the big question to be answered was the colour of my processed food. In order to find that out, 'the glove' was deployed. In all the doctor's generousity the result of this little examination was presented a few centimeters from my face, accompanied by the comforting words "Look! Right colour!" Next, the glove was disposed of, and the doctor left the room. I waited, and waited a little more. Was actually kind of interested to know what all this meant and what I needed to do to get rid of my constant feeling of inconvenience in the abdominal area. The more I waited, the more I realized that the lady doctor would not return. So, I left the room to find out that she was finishing her diagnose to our landlady. In Macedonian. San and I had no idea what all this was about. We asked but all we got was the infamous "Nema problem" as well as some smiling comments about the food/water that I've got the get used to. Then we were kindly informed to pay the bill at a certain counter two buildings further.

From an 'apteka' we picked up some Lineks or Linex and headed back for home.

I have no idea about this Linex/Lineks, but I'm getting the feeling that these pills that I'm supposed to take 3 times a day for 6 days, is making my life (and especially nights) a lot more miserable.

Looking forward to having Plan B activated in this case as I'm fed up of being closely attached to the porcelain for such a long time now.