When I was about four, I watched my two-year-old brother throw up into a basket of fries in a restaurant. He had a hypersensitive gag reflex, which meant vomiting was a common occurrence. I could never get that basket of fries out of my head. I developed a fear of vomiting called emetophobia, meaning I’d avoid throwing up at all costs. This phobia has had a much greater impact on my health than I ever could have thought. When I was about 13, I started getting strange gurgling noises in my throat; I sounded like a creaky floorboard. After eating, I would have to lie on my stomach to ease the pain. I started recording the sounds on my phone but doctors didn’t take me seriously. It was only when I was 18 that I realised that since seeing my brother throw up all those years ago, not only had I never vomited, I had also never burped. As time went on, the problem got worse. The gurgling would last for up to eight hours after meals. It could get very awkward on dates – nothing ruins a moment more than someone pointing out that your body is making weird noises. I was distraught; I knew something wasn’t right. My body would get full of air, I’d run to the toilet to vomit, and nothing would come out. People would say, “Why don’t you just chug a litre of soda, then you’ll have no choice but to burp” but they didn’t understand how difficult and painful my condition was. I adjusted my life around it, changing my diet and moving social plans. The constant worry was emotionally exhausting. It was affecting my self-esteem, and I was desperate. Then, in 2019, when I was 25 and working in sales in New York, I came across Reddit chats between other people in a similar situation. A page called “No burp” opened up a new world to me. I learned the name for my condition: retrograde cricopharyngeus dysfunction. The muscle in my throat was too tight and wasn’t working properly. I was able to swallow, but air couldn’t get out. My phobia of vomiting meant that my throat had learned to tighten in fear that I might involuntarily throw up – which cut off the ability to pass gas, too. The noises were the result of the trapped air trying to escape. I even found a recent study on it by a head and neck surgeon from Chicago. He was using Botox to treat the condition – it helps the muscle relax enough to let gas pass through, and then you relearn to strengthen it afterwards. I thought it would be easy to find a medical professional in New York City who could help. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to find anyone who took me seriously. I decided there was no other option but to fly to Chicago to be treated by the doctor who did the initial study. I was so excited that my life might change. I flew out for a day in May 2019. The operation went smoothly. I was put under anaesthesia to make it easier for him to get to the muscle – it took only 30 minutes. By 4pm, I was ready to fly home. As I was sitting on the plane, a tiny little burp came out, and I laughed in relief. Over the next two weeks, I burped uncontrollably throughout the day. The noises sounded as if they were made by a cross between a dinosaur and a broken coffee grinder. My friends and I found it hilarious. I had to pause all work meetings – it would have been difficult explaining my situation to clients. I bought a 24-pack of sparkling water so I could practise burping. After two weeks, the Botox started to wear off and I was able to control my burping more. In the evenings, I no longer had to rip my trousers off and change into sweatpants because I was so full of air; nor did I have to lie on my stomach after meals. For the first time, I could have a beer or a soda without worrying. It was life-changing. The more I’ve spoken about my condition, the more I’ve discovered how common it is. I now try to help others find treatment, because I know how hard it can be. People don’t like talking about gas. I get it, but it’s more important than you think. Much like burping itself, it’s good to be open about your problems: better out than in. As told to Elizabeth McCafferty