I'm Pooped

If I've had an unintentional break from blogging, I always find it easier to pick it up again when it's Crohn's related. I don't know if that's because my Crohn's escapades always leave me wondering and subsequently that means I've got a lot on my brain that I need to let out. But either way. Here we are.

So as you are aware, I have Crohn's Disease and last year I also fell pregnant. As I mentioned many a time in my pregnancy posts, I considered myself super lucky to be able to enjoy every aspect of pregnancy like a 'normal' person with my Crohn's essentially putting itself in remission whilst I grew a human.

Well, said human is now out of me and 10 weeks old on Friday. And lo and behold we're back aboard the gastro train and it's like my Crohn's never left. (Wah).

Casually still waiting to be seen. Everyone else had left. Even the cafe had closed.

I had my catch up with my gastro consultant last week for what can essentially be described as a prelim to what looks to be an MOT for my postpartum body; all the bloods due to be taken and a small bowel and pelvic MRI in the diary. I think I spent the first month or so of motherhood pretending that I was perhaps more well than I actually was. No one should be shitting blood at the frequency I am and I think I tried to just get on with it for longer than I should have. And now I'm where I am now, which is scared to eat for fear of the impending bloodbath out my back nethers.

This in itself is a catch 22 as I'm still breastfeeding (technically combination feeding but the boobies are still required multiple times a day) and as any breastfeeding mother will know, it makes you oh so hungry. Any new parents will also know that looking after a new baby makes you rather tired (!) So this, coupled with the blood poos is all adding up to one mama who's so pale she's see-through and in need of a ruddy good lie down for about 8 days.

Don't get me wrong, I was never expecting my Crohn's to calm down when preg and I also wasn't expecting it to stay away once my bab was born. But if I was to say that I'm not sad about these latest developments, I'd be lying.

However I have to look at the bigger picture now I have a son and my stubbornness and my pride has to take a backseat when it comes to my health and looking after my baby boy. Would I rather stay breastfeeding but getting more poorly because I don't want to take certain medicines? Or do I take the medicines that would mean I'd have to stop breastfeeding, but can ultimately feel better? Obviously it's the latter. I just hope that the MRI isn't complete doom and that there's something we can do in the short-term so I can get back to being mama. Even if it's a mama who shits a lot.

And my poor bab having to get dragged on his Sleepyhead into the bathroom 10+ times a day. Hopefully he's far too young to be scarred by the experience. But everybody poos. his mama just does it more than your average.

X

PS: My hospital is in Westminster. The day of my appointment was also the day that they had to close and evacuate Westminster Bridge due to a WWII bomb discovery in the River Thames. Let's hope that's not an omen of any kind, hey.

Crazy Week

Phew! I don't even know where to start with all the crazy goings on over the last week!?

Best to go in CROHNological order I guess... with photos galore!

BUPA London 10k Time

As you all know, Jamie and I had our 10k run on Sunday 25th May. And we did it! And even better, we've raised (currently) £663!! Way over our initial £500 target. So to celebrate we took some over the top selfies and had a cocktail in the sunshine. My evident athleticism shining through haha.

The JustGiving page is kept open until mid August, so it's not too late to make a cheeky donation! Click the widget on the side of my blog (not on mobile) or you can text HSJD50 £3 to 70070.

Thanks again for all your support!!

Birthday Fun!

And so the run was done, it was a Bank Holiday 4 day week and it was the week of my birthday. Amazing times to be had!

I got treated to a scrumptious meal made by the other half and got to see Wicked. Oh my, it was indeed wicked. Wickedly awesome. Can't believe it took me so long to see it!! If you haven't, go. Go see the show.

Now I just need to update my About Harriet section to say I'm 26 now. Not 25. Late twenties (oooh)

And so to this week...

Got to love the unpredictability of Crohn's, eh? I had a day off sick on Tuesday and broke down at work yesterday - so smooth - and now working from home.

Did I forget to mention that I'd been bleeding since the day before the run?! Yes. I had. When I type it, it feels like I am talking about menstruation mmm yeah, but hell no. It was the return of the shit yourself toilet trips, but in a non-literal way. No wonder I was so ruddy tired all the time.

Got my bloods done on Tuesday so awaiting the results from that; typically they come back normal, despite me knowing my body well enough to know things aren't normal.

And although totally the wrong thing to do by ignoring it for a few days, at least I got to enjoy a week of achievement and birthday fun!

Onwards and upwards IBDers!!

X

Sigmoidoscopy What?!

Well the good news is I saw my consultant this afternoon. The bad news (for my bumhole) is that I have to have an urgent sigmoidoscopy tomorrow.

Nope, I'd never heard of it either.

Here's a diagram that should make it a bit clearer:

Hopefully the doctor's face will be a bit further away than that?! Good lord.

It's a good job I'm used to these consultant appointments though; nothing says 'a normal Thursday afternoon' like pants down, knees to chest and invasion of the personal space.

But at least he couldn't feel any abscesses. So that's a plus. Also got my bloods done and had my steroids increased to 8/day. More fun prednisolone times ahead. Just want to know what's going on in my body!!

In the meantime, its liquids only ready for Anal Invasion v.2.

Needless to say, it'll be a different type of Friday feeling tomorrow...

X

It's a Waiting Game

And what a crappy game it is to play.

Left a message for my IBD nurse this morning; on the understanding that they get back to you within one working day. Also made an appointment with my superstar GP today.

As I thought - and which my doctor confirmed - there ain't no sign of tears, fissures or piles (thank god for that...don't fancy sitting in a rubber ring!) This does mean however that I'm at a loss as to where all this blood is still coming from.

My GP was hesitant to refer me back to the rectal bleeding clinic at my old hospital, as nothing really came of it last time.

One theory we have is that although my previous colonoscopy showed less inflammation where my op was by the terminal ileum (small intestine), when I did a stool sample it showed I still very much have active disease somewhere else.

So perhaps, somewhere in my large intestine it's all kicking off, causing the flare up and possibly being the cause of this bleeding?! Basically. Someone needs to get up my bum and see what's going on. Joy. Goodbye personal space.

Hopefully once I hear from the IBD nurse and/or my GP after she was following up with the hospital, I can get some blood tests to check my iron levels. But also get to the bottom of this. Pun intended.

In the meantime, I just need to try and stay awake during the days as I just feel so empty and weak and shattered.

X

Bloody Hell, Part 2

So you know how I wrote the following in a previous post...?

And this is why sometimes the weekends suck; in a medical sense. As now I'm just left wondering if this is going to happen everytime I go to la toilette...

Well. It appears that yes. It will happen every time I go to the toilet. Every. Time.

I think the best thing to do would be to call my IBD nurse tomorrow? I'm just baffled as I have no pain in the nether region. But there is sooooo much blood. And it's getting darker?

Plus it's making me tired and feel weak. Neither of which I'm comfortable with, to be honest.

Fellow IBDers, what do you think is the best course of action?

X

BLOODY Hell

So my late night ramblings were due to the fact I couldn't sleep. At all. As in fell asleep after 4am.

When I woke up this morning, needless to say I was a tad groggy - but hey ho it's SATURDAY. IT'S THE WEEKEND. REJOICE!

Until I went to the toilet and seemed to have left behind a gallon of blood.

Erm....?!

Could this be down to my meds? Prednisolone, Azathioprine, Humira? Has my blood thinned and just fallen out my arse?!

And this is why sometimes the weekends suck; in a medical sense. As now I'm just left wondering if this is going to happen everytime I go to la toilette...

Bloody hell, indeed.

X

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 surgery....in 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.

X 

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 first...how 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...

X