What Your Poop Is Signaling to You About Your Digestive Health
Knowing what to pay attention to is important. That's why we spoke with three gastroenterologists about the frequency of regular bowel movements and other indicators to help you understand what's normal and when it might be worth reaching out to your doctor.
Read more: Signs Your Gut Could Be Unhealthy and How to Fix It
How often should you poop?
You probably have someone in your family (if you're honest, maybe it's you) who's convinced they need to poop every morning. However, a healthy pooping schedule isn't the same for every person. You don't need to panic if you're not one of those people who goes to the bathroom like clockwork after your morning coffee.
Dr. Lance Uradomo, an interventional gastroenterologist at City of Hope Orange County, explains, "The term 'regular' generally means that a person's bowel movement frequency is continuing without any change." In fact, the number of times you poop every week could vary dramatically from other people in your household with no cause for concern.
Dr. Michael Schopis, gastroenterologist and attending physician at Manhattan Gastroenterology, says, "Normal poop frequency can range quite dramatically depending on the person. Pooping anywhere from every other day up to three to four times per day can be considered regular."
As a general rule, Uradomo advises, "Three times a day to three times a week is considered a healthy range." However, the doctor warns, "It's important to recognize your own regular routine so that if the frequency suddenly changes, you can alert your doctor."
Is it healthier to poop less or more often?
Dr. Natasha Chhabra, a gastroenterologist at Gastroenterology Associates of New Jersey, says how often you poop may be less important than whether you're pooping enough. She explains, "Having adequate BMs [bowel movements] with complete evacuation is a great goal, as having a BM is one way our body rids itself of toxins and waste. Some can have a daily BM and still not feel that they have emptied." In other words, having less frequent but complete bowel movements may be healthier than having frequent small bowel movements.
How often you should be pooping may also depend on how difficult it is for you to go number two. According to Schopis, "If it requires lots of straining and pushing to have a bowel movement or it requires you to spend 30 minutes on the toilet, then it's probably better for you to try and poop more often." He says you should introduce lifestyle changes to help induce pooping in this situation. The Mayo Clinic recommends eating high-fiber foods, staying hydrated and exercising as natural ways to prevent constipation.
On the other hand, it's possible to poop too often. Schopis says, "If someone is going four to five times per day, it's watery and with significant urgency, then this person is probably pooping too much." The Mayo Clinic notes that everything from stomach viruses and bacterial infections to lactose intolerance may cause you to poop frequently. Antibiotics may also lead to temporary diarrhea.What does healthy poop look like?
Many doctors use the Bristol stool chart to help evaluate the health of bowel movements. The chart is a form scale, meaning that it rates stool based on factors like size and consistency. Bowel movements are rated from 1 to 7, with 1 being the most firm and 7 being entirely liquid.
Bristol stool type 1-2: Rabbit or grape-like droppings that are quite hard and may be difficult to pass.
Bristol stool type 3-4: Corn on the cob or sausage bowel movements that are soft and easy to pass.
Bristol stool type 5-7: Mushy to liquid bowel movements that may or may not include some solid pieces.
As Chhabra explains, "The middle of the chart (Bristol 3-4) describes a healthy BM, which is generally described as sausage or snake-like." Poop in these categories is also solid, while it may be either smooth or have some cracks on the surface.
A healthy poop in the Bristol 3-4 categories indicates that someone is getting both enough water and enough fiber in their diet, according to Schopis. He notes that this type of stool is often easiest to pass, while "Bristol stool types 1-2 are often hard, pebbly and hard to pass, indicating constipation."
If your poop floats, you could have excessive gas, be eating a diet with high-fat content or have a gastrointestinal tract issue. Your poop should sink more often than not.
Color
You also want to consider the color of your bowel movements. Uradomo reports that "healthy poop can be brown or even greenish but should never be black or contain blood. This could indicate the presence of cancer or other health problems." If your stool is particularly pale, you may want to talk to your doctor about your liver, pancreas and gallbladder health.
Smell
According to Mount Sinai Hospital, smell also matters. While poop is never meant to smell pleasant, if it suddenly has a new or particularly foul odor, you could be experiencing a condition like chronic pancreatitis or ulcerative colitis. The good news is that changes to your diet can also produce really stinky stool. So if you just have one seriously bad-smelling BM, it could be from eating or drinking something fermented or consuming a lot of garlic.
How long should it take you to poop?
It shouldn't take you more than a few minutes to poop. Schopis says, "Ideally, someone should spend 5 minutes or less without any pushing or straining to have a bowel movement." Chhabra agrees, explaining, "Spending more than a few minutes having a BM should raise concern for constipation, particularly if you are straining."
Uradomo offers a little more leeway, saying, "It should take a person between 5 and 15 minutes on the toilet to have a bowel movement." He warns that sitting on the toilet for longer than that can "lead to problems such as hemorrhoids, reduced circulation or pelvic floor dysfunction."
Dusanpetkovic/Getty Images
What are the signs of an unhealthy bowel?
There are several key signs that you may have an unhealthy bowel. These include:
Pain: Frequent pain while pooping may be a cause for concern. This could mean your stool is too hard or there is a larger GI issue.
Blood: Blood in the bowl after you poop may also signal an unhealthy bowel. Uradomo warns, "Blood in the stool can be caused by a relatively minor problem like hemorrhoids, but it may also be an indicator of cancer, bowel disease or major internal bleeding." You should monitor bleeding closely and consult your doctor.
Loss of bowel control: If you experience bowel (fecal) incontinence, you may be experiencing weakened rectal or anal muscles. Muscle and nerve damage resulting from childbirth may also affect your ability to control bowel movements.
Black stool: Uradomo warns that black or tarry-looking stools can indicate bleeding in the upper gastrointestinal tract. This includes your esophagus, stomach and small intestine.
Chronic diarrhea: If you often have diarrhea lasting more than a few days, you may be dealing with irritable bowel syndrome or Crohn's disease. Celiac disease can also cause frequent, pale diarrhea.
When to talk to your doctor about your poop
Any time you're experiencing painful pooping or the inability to have a bowel movement, it's worth talking to your doctor. The NHS warns that chronic constipation can lead to dangerous fecal impaction, and Healthline recommends seeking medical attention if it's been a full week without a bowel movement.
Schopis says, "If you're finding that bowel movements control your life, either due to lack of frequency or going too much," it's a great idea to see a doctor. Black or bloody poop also signals that it's time for a medical evaluation.
How to keep your poop healthy
Sometimes lifestyle changes are all it takes to create healthier poop habits. For instance, make sure you drink enough water. Dehydration may lead to constipation or make your stool harder to pass. Chhabra also recommends eating fiber daily through whole fruits and vegetables. She says this "helps keep your bowel movements fuller and easier to pass."
More specifically, Schopis advises people to aim for 2 to 3 liters of water per day and 25 to 30 grams of fiber per day to achieve healthy, normal bowel movements. Aside from this advice, you may want to consider exercising more to help your bowel run smoothly.
The bottom line
You don't need to poop every day, but you should track your habits and notice when there is a dramatic change. Symptoms like straining to poop or experiencing chronic diarrhea are signs that it's time to make an appointment with your doctor. In the meantime, eating fiber and drinking a lot of water are easy ways to help yourself to poop regularly.
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Yahoo
25 minutes ago
- Yahoo
Teen Vows to Keep Surfing After Being Attacked by Shark in 'Shark Bite Capital of the World'
"There's no reason to stop doing something you love just 'cause something bad happened to you," said Sam Hollis A teenager who was attacked by a shark earlier this month isn't going to let that deter him from getting back into the water. Sam Hollis, an 18-year-old surf instructor, according to local NBC affiliate WESH — was in the middle of giving a lesson at New Smyrna Beach, known as the 'Shark Bite Capital of the World," when he was attacked while sitting on his board with his feet dangling in the water. "[The shark] just grabbed me by my foot and yanked me off my board, and was like, 'Yeah I'm going to have you for a little snack, man,' " Hollis told the outlet in an interview from his hospital bed. "I was having none of that, so I kicked it." The kick was enough to make the shark flee, but first it sunk its teeth into the teen's foot. Fortunately, Hollis was able to swim away and get help on shore, where he was then taken to the hospital. Hollis told the outlet that although he'll still need to use crutches or some other mobility aid for a while once he's out of the hospital, he's already thinking about getting back on his board. "There's no reason to stop doing something you love just 'cause something bad happened to you," he said. "That's the first thing I want to get back to doing, because I think it's important to not let something like this dictate doing things you love." is now available in the Apple App Store! Download it now for the most binge-worthy celeb content, exclusive video clips, astrology updates and more! According to Volusia County, where New Smyrna Beach is located, Hollis' attack marked the fourth shark attack this year — and there have been 359 'unprovoked' shark attacks recorded in the county since 1882, the most of any Florida county, according to the International Shark Attack File, the Florida Museum of Natural History's database. Read the original article on People
Yahoo
an hour ago
- Yahoo
I Was Told I Might Never Walk Again—so I Hiked a Volcano in Guatemala
I didn't let my lupus diagnosis stop me from hiking one of the highest peaks in Central America. It was Christmas morning when I blinked awake to the mechanical beeping of a heart monitor. At first, I thought I was dreaming. My heart thumped loudly in my chest. I tried to roll over and orient myself, but my limbs were numb, and everything around me was a blur of pale light and quiet panic. The voices outside my hospital room faded in and out until one finally broke through the fog. A man rushed in—the one who changed everything. His face said it before his words did. 'It's lupus,' he said. I didn't know what that meant. I only knew it wasn't good. I was 22 and had just been accepted to William & Mary, a top public university in the U.S. I had been the picture of health. A hiker. A wild-hearted, barefoot-loving soul who spent her weekends chasing sunrises and meaningful conversations. I had always been a thinker—someone who mapped out dreams and imagined every possible 'what if' scenario life could throw at me. But even with all that imagination, nothing prepared me for the moment I stepped out of bed one morning and collapsed into my new reality. Lupus is a chronic autoimmune disease. A body turned against itself. In a cruel twist of irony, after years of mentally picking myself apart, now my immune system was doing it for me—attacking perfectly healthy organs like they were intruders. It was a full-on war and I was losing. I was diagnosed with the worst class of it and told multiple times I might die. I almost did. The fatigue was relentless. The joint pain, unbearable. I received over nine blood transfusions just to keep me alive. The list of symptoms and restrictions, well, they were longer than my age. Tied with IVs to the hospital bed for more than a month, I remember the doctor rattling off day in and day out what I could no longer do: no more sun exposure, swimming, hugging friends, eating at restaurants, playing with animals, gardening, and walking in dirt. Even walking unassisted, they warned, might not be in the cards. I had a compromised immune system and was supposed to live in a sanitary bubble if I was to live at all. It was like someone had compiled a list of everything that made me me, then crossed it all out. I was a girl who ran and danced toward her dreams, tripping sometimes, but never stopping. Now, I was being told to sit still. But I've never been very good at doing what I'm told. And that's how I ended up 13,000 feet in the air, climbing Volcán Acatenango, one of Central America's highest peaks. The decision made no rational sense. Just months after being told I might never walk unassisted again, I was hiking into the sky on a path of volcanic ash and cloud-thin air. At the same time, it was one of the most logical decisions I ever made. Travel is so much more than movement and cool pictures in new places. It's how we reclaim pieces of ourselves. It's how we stretch beyond discomfort and fears and find out who other people are beyond our presumptions and who we are when no one else is around to define us. I started the hike alongside a group of strangers—fellow adventurers whose names and stories I didn't know, but whose silent grit matched mine. There was something exhilarating about trekking next to people who knew nothing of my diagnosis, only my determination. After our bus dropped us off at the beginning of the trail, my heart sank. From the start, it was a slow, burning, upward climb. I am so glad I had no idea what lay ahead because I might have turned around right then and there. We passed through five microclimates in a day—humid jungle, alpine forest, wind-swept ridges, dry volcanic fields, and a cloud-pierced summit. Each shift was like stepping into another world entirely. As we climbed, Acatenango's landscape shifted beneath our feet. The farmlands gave way to dense forests. The air thinned. My legs burned. My lungs ached. I slowed. And slowed again. I was often last in line, stopping frequently to rest, my legs almost crumbling under me. And yet, I was still moving. Stray dogs are abundant in the farmland, and a beautiful chocolate shepherd shared the journey with us. I soon realized what I hadn't shared with anyone, he probably knew. Out of the 20 of us, he stuck by my side, stopping when I paused and walking together with me when I began again. When we reached base camp at 12,000 feet, I was shaking. My body throbbed. The trail narrowed and a dark windy fog quickly set in. I was surprised when our guide said our camp was just ahead because I could see nothing, not even a glowing light. It was icy cold. Where was Fuego, the elusive pillar of angry fire? We had been told there would be accommodations at the top. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry when I saw a stack of used mattresses, box springs, and shared sleeping bags. There was nothing sanitary about it, but it felt more healing than the hospital bed. We sipped hot chocolate around a flicker of a flame. I had come to see lava and was shivering around fading coals. But our guide was confident and told us we should wake up at 4 a.m. if we wanted to hike the remainder of the way to see Fuego up close and active. I had plenty of experience staying awake through the night from my weeks in the hospital. I had no idea how I would pull myself out of bed this time. Luckily, I didn't even have to set an alarm. At 2 a.m, I awoke to cold, wet slobber. The puppy that walked with me had curled up on my pillow. Having shared the trek, he wanted to share the warmth, too. I was more than a little annoyed and sat straight up, trying to drag him off my corner of the mattress. I kicked open the wooden door of our makeshift hut to shove him out and came face-to-face with Fuego. In the deep mist of the night, I had no idea our camp was clinging to a slab of cliff right in front of the summit. The earth growled and Acatenango's fiery twin erupted in the distance. It was bright and brilliant and alive and somehow almost outdone by the thousands of shimmering stars framing it. The deep fog that had suffocated everything was peeled back like a curtain and I realized all the beauty that had been hiding underneath. We rose for the summit. The final push. The hardest part. What seemed so close was a full three hours away still. A pillar of lava burst into the sky, glowing against the dusk. Around me, others gasped. Many reached for their phones and cameras. I stood in stunned silence. I wanted this image and memory etched in my mind before I tainted it with a camera lens. The eruption lit up the sky again and again throughout the night and early morning. I had barely slept. It was pitch black, and we were pushing through heavy sand and ash now. Two steps forward, a half step back. Mounds of crumbling dirt rose on either side, forming a slithering trail as we dipped down into the ravine and steadily rose up the other side. There was a moment, somewhere above the clouds, when I paused and turned around. The mountain where we camped, Acatenango, towered behind me, massive and ancient. Beneath its surface were deep, dark scars—grooves cut through the rock by old lava flows, now overgrown with stubborn green. I stood there, breathless from exertion and awe, already dripping sweat. I realized something that made me pause: The looming walls of dirt both engulfing me and forming my own path were the same. From the fog of sickness and the sting of IV needles, I was now coursing through the hazy vein of the mountain. The same burning force that had once destroyed this path had also shaped it—created it, even. And now, I traced it. My own body, too, bore scars—seen and unseen. Pain had carved through me, but it had also made this journey possible. I wasn't walking despite my pain. I was walking with it and becoming something through it. I was, by every definition, weak. But I was so strong. I was breathing hard—nearly wheezing—as the icy wind whipped against my face. My legs were leaden. My fingers were stiff and swollen. I stopped more than I moved. But I wasn't alone. Step by step, I made it to the top. There—at 13,045 feet—the sun rose above the world in every color imaginable—and some not even the most creative mind could fathom. We stood in silence as clouds drifted below us and light spilled across the neighboring volcanic ridges—Agua Volcano to the left, Pacaya to the right. I was standing on Fuego in the shadow of Acatenango. Ironically, the name means 'Walled Place,' and here, I felt the walls placed around me come crumbling down. All I kept thinking was how everyone told me I couldn't—and how they weren't here to see this view. I reached my grimy, dirt-covered hand down to pet the dog in blatant defiance of my instructions not to be around or touch animals. I didn't ever want to descend. The way down was almost harder than the trail up. I was slipping, sliding, and tumbling, joy erupting inside me. Whether or not we realize it, we each travel every day—through grief, joy, and fire. We each have our own personal Fuegos and Acatenangos to face. Mine just happened to be a real one. When I returned from Guatemala, my lupus didn't vanish. But I proved that 'can't' is just a word. Acatenango didn't cure me, but it reminded me my journey didn't end in a hospital bed. It started there. It was Christmas morning when I blinked awake to the beeping of a heart monitor, my body a battlefield and my future a blur. But it was through the mist of the mountain where I really opened my eyes. They told me I'd never hike again. That I might never walk unassisted. That I would have to live a smaller life, if I lived at all. But they weren't there when the sky split open and fire danced across it. They didn't see me rise through ash and altitude, gasping and shaking, clinging to a mountain that had known its own share of eruptions. They didn't see the girl with IV scars, windburned cheeks, and dirt under her fingernails reach the summit with a dog by her side and a defiant heart in her chest. I didn't conquer the mountain—I bled into it. Walking on the wounds it once carried, I learned how to live with mine. And when Fuego erupted, lighting the sky like a pulse, I knew I would never be the same. Not because I reached the summit, but because I learned I could keep rising—even while breaking. Read the original article on Travel & Leisure Solve the daily Crossword
CBS News
an hour ago
- CBS News
2 years after brain swelling scare, Shorewood toddler is back to her spunky self
Four-year-old Sydney Marcus is a fast-moving, spunky kiddo. "[She was] just very chatty, mobile, running around, learning, just like a little sponge," Sydney Marcus' mom, Britta Marcus, said. But one night two years ago, Sydney Marcus flipped like a light switch. "It was kind of like a one-in-a-million fluke, essentially and her body reacted to it and started attacking itself," Britta Marcus said. She says her toddler went to bed with a run-of-the-mill fever, cold and runny nose — and didn't wake up. "It was just a overnight light switch of where she went from like a healthy, normal kid, and woke up unresponsive," Britta Marcus said. Sydney Marcus was rushed to the hospital where doctors determined a rare, inflammatory condition called cerebellitis was causing swelling, fluid and pressure build-up in her brain. The cause was a combination of common cold viruses. "It's extremely rare. I mean, there's there some case reports that we'll talk about it being one in 500,000 and even one in a million, if million, it's extremely rare," Sydney Marcus' neurosurgeon at Children's Minnesota, Dr. Meysam Kebriaei, said. Sydney Marcus underwent two emergency surgeries at Children's Minnesota. "They removed a small piece of her skull and put a drain into her fluid space to try to relieve the pressure that way," Kebriaei said. The next challenge came post-surgery: rehab. She had to relearn everything — from walking to talking to swallowing her food. "It was literally starting over, like, with a newborn," Sydney Marcus' dad, Ross Marcus, said. "From a neurosurgical perspective, she's 100% and, like, that's, that's the emotional piece, right? Like, we're incredibly lucky to be in this situation." Thanks to physical therapy and rehab, Sydney Marcus is now returning to her spunky self. "I think she's going to have a bright future," Kebriaei said. These days, Sydney Marcus is busy blowing bubbles and chasing her two older sisters. "We were just could not have been more impressed, truly, with the care, the diversity of thought and the consistency of like, their presence and their support of our family," Ross Marcus said. The Marcus family says it's that support that saved their daughter's life. "Giving people hope is something you don't have the opportunity to do a lot, and in those darkest moments, is what really pushes you through and really gets you through and helps you fight for your child, right? And if we can provide that, I mean, we will do it all day long," Ross Marcus said. Doctors say cerebellitis is rare and even more rare in children. Doctors reiterate a common cold is typically nothing to worry about.
