The Cause and Solution

Being a foreigner allows me a huge amount of latitude when it comes to my movements within the city. I can - and frequently do - eat at places that are not on any tourist maps because of the lack of western health standards. This is a complete reversal from my position which was reinforced my mother's warnings about not eating at "bad places."
Last summer I had a particularly comical - in hindsight - trip to the hospital which ended in me waking up from a dehydrated stupor looking at the water stained ceiling tiles of an Egyptian Hospital. I had a myriad of health problems that "ain't fit for print" that I attributed to bad food. While this assumption was probably correct, I foolishly thought that the location and look of the restaurant determined the quality of the food. So I ate at places that had nice chairs and cloth napkins but still did not solve the healing problems and I lost more than fifteen pounds. For those of you not familiar with my physique, that weight loss was pure muscle and probably a semi-vital organ.
So this year, knowing that I am down a kidney, I decided at the first sign of any bowel problems I would medicate with traditional medical procedures. This consisted of eating nothing but high-fiber crackers, drinking enough water to drown a dolphin, and also choking down straight Campari on the rocks on the hour, every hour. Campari is an Italian aperitif I am fond of when it is cut to one third strength by Orange juice. However the taste is still forceful, even in its diminished state, that my friends have described it as "foul," "nasty," and many far more profane things. Over night I was completely cured after going through the initial stages whatever malady I had for most of last summer. While I am quite sure this method was encompassed under the "DON'T BE STUPID" ultimatum I get before going anywhere, it worked fantastically well. So, like the Gypsy with his lucky scarf, I have gotten much more adventurous with where and what I eat.