Wednesday 30 January 2013

Operation: COMPLETE

As you know, I was hoping to keep up to date with writing down how I was feeling whilst I've been in here. Except that was more difficult than I imagined as I've essentially slept most of the last two days.

So here's a recap of what I can remember since Monday...

7am and we arrive at the Surgical Admissions Lounge. I get told I'm last on the list - but there were only three people in total for gastro surgery, so that wasn't too bad! 
However I didn't get to go down until 3pm, and needless to say by that point I was absolutely starving and in desperate need of a glass of water. Turns out I could have had water up until midday, but no one checked as to when I'd be going down until it was too late for me to drink anything.
I'm now gowned up, holding my man's hand in the lift as we descend down to the operating theatres. Turns out he could only step out the lift with me, as he wasn't allowed through the double doors: cue brief mini emotional breakdown, cuddles and lots of "I love you"s. 
Luckily I had such a LAD of an anaesthetist. I asked if they could prolong that floaty feeling before I started to panic/get knocked out. And that he did. Nice one Mr.
Woke up about an hour and a half later in recovery in excruciating pain. I was awake enough to have a sneaky peak into my gown...and there was no scar down the centre! Wahoo! But I was still in a lot of pain so they got me hooked up to the PCA machine asap.
After a four hour wait I finally got to go up to my ward - spaced out of my brain and very emotional - ready to just crash out and sleep.

Had a really difficult night's sleep. Woken up every hour for observations and then needing to press my PCA button to knock me out enough to fall asleep again.
The good news is that I had my first set of visitors coming in the evening and I also managed to walk to the toilet twice (despite the crippling pain) 
I also got to see the pain team and my surgeon. The pain team agreed that I could stay with my PCA machine for a little while longer *phew* and the surgeon gave me the full details of what I had done in theatre...
  • I have had four inches of my bowel removed; a resection as opposed to a strictureplasty
  • I have had my appendix removed (?!)
  • No need for a central scar as they could do all they needed in my right hand side
  • There is no ileostomy bag as they were able to do what they needed, without putting in a stoma

All in all, I'm pretty pleased with what I woke up with!
Despite drifting in and out of sleep during Tuesday, I got woken up to have my dressing changed. This was going to be the first time I saw my actual scar.
And here is the beauty...10 staples and straight across a very swollen and tender abdomen...

I've also realised that I now find the most simple tasks very tricky and painful. And I have to remember that it's ok not to push myself too hard. This is because I've needed oxygen every time I sit back down....I'm such a doofus. Just need to take things slowwww.
I felt very nauseous last night though. I don't know if it was because I had a bowl of custard? (This was one of the first things I was recommended to eat since Sunday). Or if it was the over-use of my PCA machine haha. Either way, yuck yuckity yuck yuck.

Better night's sleep last night. Only woke up three times and managed to sleep through to 7am. Go me!
As it stands, I am now on free fluids (instead of just sips) and this includes tea, coffee and soups. Awaiting some soup for my lunch, but I'm not confident that this will go well based on my custard escapade from last night.
It's still tough in here though. And I quickly learnt that crying doesn't help my pain. And also headbutting my lampshade will also increase the amount of pain in my stomach. Stupid reflexes and muscle tensing.

Until next time my lovelies...I best get back to my bed-rest.



Sunday 27 January 2013

1 day to go

So it's almost time; tomorrow is almost here.

I packed everything yesterday, so I could spend today relaxing and trying not to worry about what's happening tomorrow. And I realised that getting ready to go into hospital is very much like getting ready to go on holiday - albeit I will be on my way to the Surgical Admissions Lounge in the early hours, not the check-in desk at Heathrow.
You have to plan what clothes to take with you. You have to know what toiletries you need. You put aside some reading material. Update your iPod with relaxing songs. You have a shower, wash your hair and shave your legs...
See? Very much like holiday preparation.
But as you all know, I'm not going on holiday.
I hope you don't think I sound shallow or vain for plucking my eyebrows, shaving my legs or straightening my hair before I go in tomorrow. But for me, these are my little bits of normality that I am not going to have for a while. And if it makes me feel better knowing that my shins are as smooth as a baby's behind, then so be it.
I am praying to God that everything goes as well as it can for me before, during and after my surgery. But naturally I am also worried. I'm shitting myself, (although not literally speaking). 
I'm so scared. I'm scared I might get a perforated bowel. I'm scared I might not wake up. I'm scared that even if it goes well, it's going to take me a very long time to feel like me again.
I know these are all normal thoughts, but it's a bloody weird feeling. Because I totally know it is to make me better and put me on the path of remission for my Crohn's. But it's also incredibly overwhelming when you just sit back and think about what's actually going to happen to me...(though some parts are still quite vague!)
But don't worry about me guys. I'm allowed a wee blip at times. My mind is very much full of Positive Mental Attitude as well! 
So it is time I bid your farewell for now, as I enjoy my last night of freedom before the fasting begins. 
Wish me luck!!



Saturday 26 January 2013

A bum on my tum?!

As you know, I had the stoma nurse yesterday and I came home with this lovely mark drawn onto me in permanent pen...

So it seems that it is extremely likely I will be waking up with an ileostomy bag. IT'S IN PERMANENT PEN FOR GOD'S SAKE! And this will be my site marking for the surgeon when I'm knocked out cold on the operating table. To make sure it doesn't disappear before Monday I was entrusted with a faithful Sharpie pen, which I am having to use to colour in my new mate a few times each day.

I also learnt yesterday that my incision is not where I thought it would be; it's going to be down the centre as opposed to the bottom right of my abdomen (similar to an appendix scar area)

I am also using this weekend as an opportunity to eat everything I'm not allowed to eat when I'm out of surgery (as they could cause problems/blockages with my bag). That includes:

  • Onion
  • Tomatoes
  • Asparagus
  • Popcorn
  • Garlic
  • Peas
  • Winter root crop vegetables
  • Cucumbers
  • Lettuce

There is a whole other list of foods which I will have to slowly introduce back into my diet - as my stoma nurse put it "you will have your bum on your tum."

She also explained how some of her patients get quite attached to their stoma and give it a name; I am open to suggestions!

Getting very nervous now as there's only two days to go! I am sort of teetering on an emotional edge haha. But I will be fine.


Will post again tomorrow as my final post pre-surgery.

Hope you've all had a lovely weekend, and thank you for the continued support by reading this.



Friday 25 January 2013

3 days to go

I'm struggling today. Not sure why, nothing in particular has happened. Just feel a tad weepy and down in the dumps.

I know I'm nervous about going to the stoma nurse later, but I think because it's also my last appointment before my surgery. Plus I know then that all I have left to do is get my stuff together and get packed for Monday.

I asked if I needed to bring anything with me to today's appointment. She said I could bring a favourite item of clothing in case they can work around it. But to be honest, my wardrobe looks like it belongs to someone in their second trimester of that option is null and void.

This is because I have, what I call, my Bloat née Flamonge.

It never leaves me, it's got me seats on the tube and on buses. And if my operation is a success and my bloat departs, in a weird way I will really miss it!

To cheer me up, I am bringing moral support to my appointment in the shape of my very good friend. When we are together, there is many a spontaneous burst of song - and I feel this is the best form of company as there is a high chance of tears again (...from me, not her...obviously)

I've also decided that as wifi is unlikely in hospital, I am going to write down everything I'm feeling anyway and upload them onto here when I'm discharged or have Internet access - whichever one comes first. So there may be a little while from my last post on Sunday. Apologies in advance!

Will let you know how I get on later.

Ta ta for now.


Thursday 24 January 2013

Arse, Bottom and Bum (squared)

For all those mathematicians out there, you may have noticed I wrote three different words for your backside, followed by 'squared'. That's because...

3 x 3 = 9

And 9 is the number of abscesses I have had over the last three and a bit years.

The only way to talk about these lovely little lumps and the pain/trouble/embarrassment they've caused me, is to give you a brief overview of some of the more memorable ones.

August 2008

This was the first abscess I had, and will always be the most memorable - not only because of the pain before, during and after - but because I was having to self-pack the open wound when in Cuba with the man. Oh and whilst in Cuba we got stuck in Hurricane Ike. First time the resort had been hit by a hurricane in 45 years...not ideal!

Once an abscess has been drained, it must be packed with what I named wadding. Think of it as a cavity in your tooth; it must heal from the inside out to avoid further infection, so less wadding must be put in each day. FACT: This is because skin heals faster than tissue.

The pain is indescribable. It's simply awful. I don't know if it's because it is unnatural to have medical tools digging around in your body tissue when you're awake, or if it's because they were perianal abscesses. (Hopefully I won't need to explain exactly where they were...? I'll give you a clue: perianal)

But I got through it and back to uni and continued my investigation into why I got this little bugger in my bottom.

June 2009

This was my second abscess in a matter of months. The difference with this time was I knew I had Crohn's and they were able to tell me that abscesses were something that I was going to be prone to. 

However I soon learnt that what happened back in August with the medicine, was going to be a pattern that kept repeating itself: "Take the metronidazole, the lump will stay but the pain and swelling will go." YES. YES IT WILL....NEVER. Here we go again...

August 2009

This one is memorable because it was so close to my kidney op. And it was also the one where my surgeon at the time (from Chelsea & West) decided the best course of action was through surgical intervention and to place a seton inside me.

For ease of understanding, a seton is a surgical-grade cord which (in my case) went through my bum hole, threaded through the fistula embedded in my pelvis and came out of my bum cheek. This was then tied together and gravity (?!) would pull the wire up towards the surface. Ta da!

The aim is to allow healing of the fistula without too much interference, as too much prodding down there could lead to incontinence. This was obviously not something I wanted to be worrying about! "Oh I need the toilet...ahh it appears I've already been."

I got told I would have the seton in for around 3 months, where they would then remove it and all would be well. Except I got another three abscesses whilst with said seton, which meant me and my wire were together for around nine months.

May 2011

Now this has to be my favourite of all the abscesses, because the circumstances are so ridiculous.

I knew I had an abscess and was back on metronidazole, but I also had a weekend in St Ives planned with one of my best friends and decided I was going to go, whatever. And what was to say that this time the meds wouldn't work? I had a longer prescription, I felt better in myself, I had high hopes.

So we went out for dinner and I knew on the walk that things were not great. Skip a few hours and I'm throwing up blood in the toilet, my best friend's on the phone to the ambulance and I have an ass throbbing like I'd had the skin ripped right off me.

Cue operation #8 down in Truro A&E and an odd phonecall to your boyfriend (who's currently in Bristol) to tell him you're about to have more Cornwall. On the plus side, I did learn that St Ives is probably one of the most relaxing places to recover. And I also got a spontaneous mini-vacay as the man came down to see me. What a marvellous ending to an unusual (and extended) weekend away!

Last but by no means least...September 2011

This was my last abscess operation where they found that I actually had two fistulae and they were able to lay open the one closest to the surface. And it seems that that was the one that was causing me problems as (touch wood) I haven't had another one since. Yeahhhhhhh!!

I realise I've basically mentioned them all! But as you can gather, I pretty much had an abscess encounter every three months from June 2009. It's been exhausting.

Without ending on a bum note (pun intended) that's the end of my abscess recap.

Hope it wasn't too detailed for you haha.



Insomnia is a b****

It's 3:04am.

It's the fifth night in a row I am awake at this time.

Mind racing. Cat snoring. Stomach hurting.

Fed up with lying with my eyes closed yet never being able to enter the Land of Nod.



Wednesday 23 January 2013

5 days to go

I had my pre-operative assessment today. Good news is, I am fit enough to have my operation! First hurdle successfully leaped over.

When I arrived I had my height and weight taken: I'm still 160cm even though I tried hard to be taller, but to no avail. And my weight was 66.6kg. Not a great sign! 666/the Devil, etc ha. It also frustrates me because it makes me realise how much weight I've put on whilst being on ruddy steroids. But there's nothing like a spot of heavy surgery to shift those pounds! (Although not a recommended course of action haha)

Then I had my blood pressure and temperature taken. All was well, apart from the slight issue of my pulse...average healthy range for someone my age is 50-70 and mine was a casual 122. Needless to say, I was slightly nervous...*stay calm*

I wandered down to the next nurse to go through the thousand questions to make sure I'm fit and well for general anaesthetic; are you diabetic? Have you had a stroke? Have you ever had tuberculosis? No to all of the above. Done.

Blood test time. Except my right arm decided I had no blood to give and ran dry like the Nile in a drought. So now I have a hole in either elbow crease to make up for the empty first arm. (Right side again, see? What is it with that side of my body?!)

My turn to ask the questions...

It wasn't the nurses fault, but it was annoying because any questions I had about my surgery came back with the same answer: "we're not sure and won't know until you've had the operation."

So here's a list of things I still don't know:

  • How long will my operation be? 
  • What exactly will they be doing?  
  • How long do you think I'll be in hospital for afterwards? 
  • What are the chances of me having an ileostomy bag? 
  • How many pairs of knickers will I need to pack?

I think you'll agree that all of these are very important questions - especially the last one.

There was also some new information I learned today. That is, there is a chance I will have an ileostomy bag (which I knew already) but also I will wake up with a catheter attached to me. This will essentially make my nethers redundant.

But I will also be attached to a machine for PCA; Patient Controlled Analgesia. PCA consists of a machine that is fixed to a stand by my bed, and connected to me by a tube directly into my vein. I will have a handheld button to press when I feel pain, and then a small dose of the medication will go straight into my bloodstream. Now I think that is pretty damn cool. Medical science amazes me sometimes!

But yes, a warning to any of my visitors: if you're boring me I may press the button and drift off into a nice morphine-induced sleep haha.

My official countdown has now begun. Until next time...


Tuesday 22 January 2013

To bag? Or not to bag?

I feel like I need to talk about what I've just watched, as it is a lot to take in...

"Practice Makes Perfect: A practical guide to the care of an ileostomy"

Basically, I have to prepare myself for having an ileostomy bag for 3-6 months - athough there is a chance I may not need one.

This is why my forthcoming operation is quite a mind boggler; I can only be told the basics of what they're planning on doing, as a lot of it depends on what they find when they open me up.

So yes, a strictureplasty. And yes, it will be through open surgery. But anything other than that is currently a mystery.

Ok, I admit I was being dramatic! It isn't a mystery entirely. It's not like they'll chop off my leg whilst I'm under general anaesthetic (FINGERS CROSSED!) But I will not know the extent of the surgery, and therefore the recovery, until I come round afterwards.

I've already been to see the stoma nurse once before, and I'm seeing her again on Friday pre-op to mark where my potential stoma may be. She was so lovely first time round and made me feel at ease about the whole thing. She also gave me a load of literature to read through to try and help me understand the changes that will happen (if I have to have an ileostomy bag.)

From what I gather, I will need a bag if;
a) I have a strictureplasty but the surrounding tissue is quite weak
b) I end up having a resection as the surrounding tissue is too weak to support the strictureplasty

Both will mean the diversion into the bag will allow my body time to heal.

But yes - I watched this DVD earlier - was pretty intense. But I can totally see how it could change my life for the better! I just think that if I have an ileostomy bag, I have to remember that is a-ok to need an adjustment period.

So I imagine I will probably blog the most during that time - that's when it will really become therapy for me! Apologies in advance, my dear readers...

To summarise on my crazy thoughts: I think if I prepare myself to have a bag, then it can only be a pleasant surprise if I don't. And if I do? Then at least I will know I've done as much as possible to be ready for it.

Anyway, it will certainly be quite a talking point; having a bag of shit attached to you, whilst your inside's out haha.




I have finally got an actual date for my op! *dances around the room*

I knew my op wasn't far off, as I was told that I could always go through A&E this week and get seen that way (effectively cheat the system), especially after the amount of time I've already had to wait.

But I found out today that I am booked in for next Monday 28th January.

All systems go for pre-operative assessment this week and another trip to the stoma nurse on Friday.

Then...It. Is. On.


Monday 21 January 2013

Always look on the RIGHT side of life

Some of you may have noticed that I changed the wording of the classic Eric Idle song. Perhaps others may have assumed it was a typo.

Alas, there was a method to my madness.

The reason for this is that all my body problems seem to be on my right side. See? Now it all makes sense!

When having one of my many early MRI scans at Chelsea & West, the results seemed to show up something other than my terminal ileum Crohn's. It appeared that I was also suffering a PUJ obstruction with my right kidney. I like to call this Sod's Law as this was completely unrelated to my Crohn's.

By all accounts it was a childhood problem that had taken around 18 years to build up enough to actually cause me any bother. 

In layman's terms: imagine a stone stuck in a hosepipe. That water can get through, just not as well as it would if that stone wasn't there. I had this hypothetical situation actually happening inside me. My kidney function on my right hand side had dropped to 18%, with the left doing 82% of the work; they should be evenly split, 50/50.

To fix it I would need an operation (now where've we heard that before?! Haha) but excitingly, I got to have my operation up in Paddington with a robot.

The robot was usually reserved for patients having prostate cancer operations, as it is so precise and can dramatically decrease the recovery time. Fortunately because of my age (I had not long turned 21) this meant that I was eligible to be robot-opped on.

1st September 2009 and I am gowned up and ready to go in.

For a bit of light relief, I feel that this is the best time to reference comedienne Miranda Hart and her explanation of a hospital gown, as quite frankly, it tickles me... Gown, gown, gown, arse gap, gown gown gown. That is all.

Now where was I? Oh another operation!

I feel the best way for you to understand what went on thereafter, is not by using medical jargon, but creating a marvellous photo collage of what I was like from when I came round (after 6hrs on the operating table) to where I ended up.

Squeamish warning for one and all

On the plus side, seeing these old photos again has made me realise how much stress my abdomen has already been through and now it's like nothing ever happened. If I get to feel like this in another 3 years when looking back at my forthcoming op, I shall be #WINNING


It never runs smoothly

And by this I am referring to elective surgery.

I know I've only just started telling you all about Crohn's and me, but as I have a lot coming up I feel you guys need to be up to date!


The general process for the mind goes something like this:
  1. Finding out you need surgery 
  2. The planning of said surgery 
  3. The appointments leading up to surgery 
  4. The amount of people you must speak to in order to find out when you'll be having the surgery
  5. Learning to hang up before you scream ungodly words at strangers from the Admissions department
  6. Maintaining the patience of a saint and the organisational skills of the Queen's PA

As I mentioned before, I'm due to have my tenth Crohn's operation in a matter of days - yet it seems to have been an almighty struggle getting to where I am now...

It was way back when in October 2012 and I knew I was having a bad flare up.

Feeling so lethargic; just getting to and from work was proving difficult because I had no energy. Then there was the time I sat on the work toilet floor throwing up any contents I had inside me. Needless to say that wasn't one of my finest moments. And of course the inevitable poos.

I went through the motions of GP, steroids, see how you go. Except this time nothing changed. So I changed the dose and strength of steroid. Still nothing changed.

Now I find myself in the outpatient department of St George's in Tooting (NB: transferred hospitals after my 9th abscess op. All shall be revealed later on in a dedicated post just to talk about lumps in bums) but it seems the best thing to do is have a blood test and an ultrasound to see what's going on inside of me.

In a nutshell, to quote my hospital letter...

"Her recent oral contrast ultrasound scan showed a stricture of around 9cm in the terminal ileum which narrows to 4mm"

That's right kids! What I consume has got to get through 4mm in order to continue its journey to my bum hole. On the plus side (I guess) at least I now know why it's near on impossible for me to do what is considered a normal poo.

So to fix this I get told I will need an operation.

My mindset translation for that moment in time
Totally ok with this (cue emotional breakdown)
I've had ops before (but not one this big)
Everything will be fine (course it will - please sense the sarcasm)

Was supposed to have a strictureplasty through open surgery at the end of November. But only found out last week that my operation is approaching *rejoices* after months of being 'urgent' and on top of a list, yet never seen by the surgeon. Talk about stuck in an admin rut.

And that's where I am now.

It's a funny old thing, knowing you're going to have your biggest operation to date. Hoping it's going to be life-changing for all the right reasons.



So I'm one abscess in, have sat with the Gastro specialist at Chelsea & West and I'm awaiting my first colonoscopy in order to find out what's going on with me and my body.

I have to say, quite honestly, the colonoscopy was one of the funniest yet strangest hospital experiences I've had. For starters, nothing quite prepares you for the amount your body expels the day before your procedure!

And then there's the whole awake sedation. Which essentially is feeling completely off your face, slurring your words and laughing because you know you sound drunk, but keep talking because it's funny. Funny until you realise you currently have a camera up your bottom. Oh and you can see your intestines on the screen next to you.

To give you a general idea of how it went:

"You have a large intestine like a helter-skelter." How fabulous! And we're not even half way round...
"It's also severely ulcerated."  Again, I woop with delight at this news.
"Ahh. Seems we can't get through into your small intestine as it is very narrow." Well that has made my day.


I get wheeled out, sobered up and I'm now sitting on a bed waiting for them to come and talk to me, tell me in detail what they've found. More so because details from during the procedure seem to have got lost in the fuzzy haze that is awake sedation.

"We have taken some biopsies. But it seems conclusive that you have Crohn's disease."

Cool. So what is that exactly?!



That awkward moment...

When you're in a leotard and tights, in a ballet class at university and you're worried that if you do a split leap you may inadvertently shit yourself. Not ideal, I think you'll agree?

Well this was pretty much my thinking during every dance class whilst aiming to get my BA Hons in Dance Studies at Roehampton a few years ago.

Luckily I never actually pooed whilst dancing. But still, I certainly mastered the art of the quick strip when getting to the toilet (FYI, never underestimate the difficulty of stripping when in 75 layers of Lycra)

So there I was: just turned 20, in my second year of uni up in London, living the dream of dancing every day. And then it all took a casual turn for the worse.

And by casual, I mean UTTERLY HORRENDOUS.

It's the little things you notice at suddenly it's a lot trickier to finish a meal without feeling sick. How the ones closest to you start wondering why you're pushing your food around your plate, but never actually finish a meal. The weight loss. All of these things tend to compound to (apparently) mean one thing to the ones who love you. I must have an eating disorder. Of course! How silly of me to think otherwise (?!)

To be honest I can see where they were coming from; I was a dancer up in London living away from home for the first time. Each time I was home from uni I was that little bit thinner. Eating was tough. When I'd finished eating I sat in the bathroom for a while. Didn't look great.

But what they didn't realise is that at no point was I voluntarily getting my food back out my body. If you can find me anyone who can poo on demand, well...I'd give them a bloody great high-5.

And this is what I found most concerning. The amount I had to go to (what I call) the toilet-toilet.

Now after reading up on this, the average amount for a normal person to poo can range from three times a day, to once every three days. Either way, I was suddenly going a lot more than this. And by a lot more, I mean at one stage going 18-20 times PER DAY.

So this lead me to visiting the Student Medical centre on a regular basis, as I was convinced all was not well with my internal plumbing.

"You've got IBS"
"This is your normal"
"You may have Coeliac disease"
"Let's strip back and build up each food group"

I'm sure if you are a fellow IBDer, then these will most likely be things you've all been told at some point.

I had another blood test...turns out I had Helicobacter Pylori. To you and I, that's a duodenal stomach ulcer which was in some way helpful as it explained the constant-vomiting-when-eating I'd encountered. But I still wasn't convinced this was my main problem.

So I gave it a fair shot, I did as I was told. That was until I had a quite horrifying experience whilst on the toilet-toilet.

WARNING - descriptions ahead
Those of a queezy disposition may like to skip the next paragraph

The best way to describe it would be if someone had poured a tin of red paint into my toilet; completely liquid and red. Yes, you guessed it! It was blood. A lot of it. And at this point I'm around 7 and a half stone and not really able to keep anything in me, at either end. Unsurprisingly, I was shocked/panicked/scared and so I cried. I sat on my bathroom floor and sobbed. What was wrong with me? Why was this happening?

Come morning I'm back down the medical centre for another blood test, desperate to find out what was going on. But still nothing conclusive.

*Forward to the Summer holidays when I'm back at my home-home*

I have a lump on my bum and it hurts. Sneezing hurts a surprising amount (so many muscles down there?!) and it doesn't seem to go away, so naturally I go to see my GP. Turns out I have an abscess?!

"Take these antibiotics for three weeks. The lump will stay but the pain and swelling should subside."

Sure it will...

Three weeks later, the lump is still there and if anything it's bigger. So I see a different doctor and he sends me straight to A&E, where by all accounts, I should have gone three weeks prior.

Long story short: abscess drained and packed and a few weeks later I'm back at uni and at the Student Medical centre, hospital note in-hand.

"You need to see a Gastroenterology specialist, now."

Oh hi Chelsea and Westminster hospital. Seems you and I are going to become good friends...



A bit about me

Hi guys. 

I guess the first thing to say is thank you for taking the time to read this!

You may have guessed that I'm Harriet - and I have Crohn's disease. I'm 24 years old and after 4 years since diagnosis, I just felt that I wanted to share my experiences with having Crohn's and the challenges it can throw your way.

So a brief overview of what's gone on so far...

  • Diagnosed in January 2009; although general consensus is that I've had it since I was 16
  • 9 operations for recurring perianal abscesses due to two fistulae (excellent)
  • Tried a cocktail of every med under the sun and am now on Humira fortnightly
  • About to have a strictureplasty through open surgery which takes me into double figures 
It's certainly been tough and there are times where I really question how much I can deal with. But what I do know, is that with the support network I have - both medical and personal - it makes it that bit easier when times are a tad shitty. Pardon the pun.

Hopefully you may find it helpful/comforting/funny/interesting reading my blog, as I know it's certainly helped me reading about what other people have been through. 

And I also apologise in advance for some content as it will most likely contain the word 'poo'. 

I'm going to try and post regularly (albeit not the best time to start as it's days before my surgery!) but I want to write about the ups and downs I've had so far, as well as the new experiences that I shall have. Essentially you could look at this blog as therapy for me. And why not share that with strangers on the World Wide Web?!

Look forward to sharing my Crohn's stories with you all.

Toodles for now dudes.


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