Nasty,brutish and short!

Since I last wrote I have been very busy bullying medical professionals into finding some way to fix me, or at the very least provide some sort of light relief from this constant life of urgency. And finally having complained often enough to warrant a referral from my GP, I went to visit a private consultant with high hopes that in a few weeks my life would be back to normal.

The consultant was a very nice man who, having listened to the extreme nature of my symptoms, was fairly convinced that I had some variation of Inflammatory Bowel Disease as opposed to IBS. The fact that he mentioned the word Colitus once or twice offered me some degree of optimism as opposed to horror - Optimism that there would be (A) something that could be done about it and (B) proof that this was a physical and not a mental condition. (I have found in the past that peoples sympathy for mental conditions is fairly limited...).

To have someone finally taking my situation seriously was a great relief and, unlike my trips to the GP, I left feeling like there was someone who understood what I was going through and who could possibly help me. So I was packed off to my GP for some blood tests and an anxiety fuelled two week wait for a Sigmoidoscopy began. For those of you who do not know what a Sigmoidoscopy is I will fill you in.

The process starts 24 hours before you are due in hospital with some industrial strength laxatives to "clear your system". These laxatives can take many forms but mine arrived in two innocent looking sachets with an appealing "scorched orange flavour" message printed across the front. I was later to read that they are in fact the pimp daddy of all laxatives. I was instructed to mix a sachet with some water, wait a while and then drink it, leaving an 8 hour gap between each.

At 8am I was poised and ready to go with my first cupful. Now I will be the first to admit that I am awful when it comes to liquid medicines....Tablets are fine....medicines are not. So in the back of my mind lay the concern that I would throw up the mixture before the whole "cleansing procedure" could even start. What followed next was 35 minutes of alternating between wretching and crying and when it finally came to the last few mouthfuls I decided enough was enough and washed it down the sink. Yes, I know, big baby.

Being the proud owner of an irritable gut I am no stranger to spending time on the lavatory evacuating the contents of my stomach so I was fairly confident that the next few hours would be a complete doddle. I had even gone to great lengths to make the day as comfortable as possible - a good book placed in the bathroom, Tesco's entire toilet roll stock relocated to my house and most importantly I had booked to work from home that day - In retrospect this is a vital move for anyone consuming laxatives.

All set to go I made my way back to the living room, settled on the sofa and just waited...an hour later I was still waiting....and then MY GOOD GOD. Over the next 24 hours I was on the toilet twice every fifteen minutes. It was neither a joy nor a pleasure. I hit my emotional and physical brick wall at about 3am when, having also had a bad reaction to the innocent sachets, I had started to be sick into a bucket between my knees.

In a panic I woke my very patient partner who had been ordered to sleep in a room far, far away from where I was making a disgusting racket with my bodily functions. Glad to have some well justified sympathy thrown my way I lay and chatted to him for a while, feeling very sorry for myself.

That night I got next to no sleep and the following morning the effects of the laxatives had not worn off. I called the hospital to see if this would effect my test and also to find out if they had any bright ideas as to how I could make the 25 minute car journey without pooping myself.

It wouldn't and they didn't.

As my friend pulled up in her brand new cream car full of the joys of spring time I could do the only thing left at that stage. I crossed my fingers and prayed that the journey would be quick...we actually managed to make a toilet stop in McDonalds on the way which wasn't so bad...Don't worry we bought a coffee! They hate it when you just use the toilets no matter what type of crisis situation you are dealing with!

Arriving at the hospital I was surprised to discover that I wasn't overly nervous. Sure the idea of having a camera shoved 2ft up my intestine and having biopsys taken all without sedation had been worrying me up until then but overnight I seemed to have developed a level of acceptance. Either that or my preparation of watching a whole lot of porn before hand had really helped - I mean if they could put those big things up there without sedation then I could surely handle a little camera and some air...right?

I also had the small reassuring back up plan of a Diazepam stashed neatly in my bag but with this new found confidence I chose not to use it. Perhaps it was the tiredness or perhaps I knew that I had just had 24 hours of hell ten more minutes wouldn't hurt but I was a lot more brave than I usually am...I refer you back to the wretching and crying over the medicine drink.

The test itself was everything you would expect it to be - Unpleasant and uncomfortable, slightly painful when they are taking the biopsys but altogether over very quickly. All in all it was, to quote Hobbes, "Nasty, brutish and short" although they don't include that snippet on the information leaflet!

I am still waiting for the biopsy results at the moment and I am keeping my fingers firmly crossed that they find something that can be easily treated, that will go away quickly and won't come back. Wishful thinking at its greatest!

For anyone else facing a Flexible Sigmoidoscopy - do not panic. The test is grand, the prep is far worse! And for proof on just how big a baby I actually am I will let you into a little secret....I cried at the blood test...Like I said...Baby.

TV or not TV? That is the question!

As yet another boring Friday night trapped in my house looms ahead I have a very difficult decision to make: Do I subject myself to the awful attempts at entertainment which await on the goggle-box or risk the wander up to my local shop for a marginally more inviting DVD?

In the past of course my Friday nights would have been occupied with far more exciting concerns - which dress to wear, which friends to grace with my presence, what drink to sip and eventually which dance floor to embarrass my self on with some rather enthusiastic Mr Bean inspired thrusting.

Oh how things have changed! And indeed it is nights like this were my frustration with the situation then develops into anger at myself - Why can't I just change things? Surely I must have some control over the situation? But no, it would appear that I most definitely don't.

As I clutch at straws for optimism in this mess I note that the one good thing about this weekend is that I haven't made plans to go out which in the end would have to be cancelled leading to greater disappointment. There is now a resignation that this is how it will have to be for a while but I am only allowing this resignation to prevail on the basis that it is purely a TEMPORARY SITUATION.

I am taking the necessary steps to seek help and advice. I am trying everything and there is still more to do. I am dealing with the problem head on. So in that respect "Go me, woo girl power and let's follow that up with a high five for good measure..."

I have mentioned before that I have deliberately been trying not to let this dictate my life and for the most part I haven't however after the past week, which has been my worst on record, I have been left feeling run down and physically ravaged. You see with this problem it is not just the embarrassment factor that you have to learn to control it is also then dealing with evil side effects of having had the big D constantly for 5/6 days in a row (and we are talking daytime and night time here).

I am exhausted, my limbs are weak, I have lost about about half a stone in weight and my head aches both from dehydration and from listening to myself whine like an annoying loser. I have found myself devoting much of my day to bending the ear of my partner, lamenting my physical and emotional woes as if I am the only person in the world with any concerns. This new hobby of self obsession is something that I certainly don't enjoy and if I am irritating myself with it I can only imagine how he is feeling...but I think that the impact that this can have on relationships will have to be a topic for another day.

So with an evening in front of the TV destined to be I may as well make the most of it with some non offensive snacks and a hefty handful of supplements and vitamins to keep my stomach in check. I feel like I should make a personal apology to my local fast food establishment as I continue to walk past them in favour of the health food shop a couple of doors down however this lady is now living MSG free!

Where once there was chicken fried rice with a healthy dollop of curry sauce there now sits a poorly cooked baked potato with sunflower oil and tuna, my crisps have transformed into Imodium, Spasmonal and Buscopam and my beloved chocolate has been dumped for Calcium, Flaxeed Oil, Colpermin and Acidophilus.

When you put all of these changes together with my usual Friday night skimpy dress becoming an unflattering pair of PJ's, my impossibly high heels reduced to slippers and my drink of choice going from wine to water it is really a case of a Cinderella story backfiring with splendidly awful results. Needless to say if I meet my Fairy Godmother I will not be held responsible for my actions!

As I said I was going to keep you posted on what works and what doesn't and so for everything I mentioned above here are my own personal results:

Imodium - Only useful as a temporary fix unfortunately, great for giving you a bit of confidence for a night out but definitely not a permanent solution. If taken on a regular basis it will start to wear off in a very short amount of time or stop working altogether.

Buscopam - Did very little for me.

Spasmonal - This is the next step up from Buscopam and it does work to help alleviate cramps caused by wind. Only problem then is that you have to deal with the wind...I was told that it would help to slow down the BM's and unfortunately I did not experience this side of it. I imagine it would be great for constipation.

Calcium and Flaxeed Oil - I started taking both of these at the same time and I found that within two days things had improved slightly, however just over a week later and everything returned to how it had been before. Although I am still taking them I am not entirely sure what they are doing. I had found that these were recommended on several websites/forums so they might have more joy for someone else.

Colpermin - Again I have not had much relief from Colpermin either. Many of the supplements available are to help the smooth running of the digestive system and clearly I do not have any issue with food travelling smoothly through me. What I would like would be a supplement that acts as a road block about half way down...Alas this does not exist!

Acidophilus - This one I am taking for damage limitation in the hope that it will prevent any further irritation being caused by this long term over use and speedy transit in my lower digestive tract.

So as I tuck into my reformed Friday night treats and bore myself to sleep with a predictably awful programme I will be clinging on to one little golden ray of sunshine that is peaking out from behind this cloud of shit...

I am going to have THE most awesome bikini body this summer and I didn't even have to visit the gym once.

Advice from my chakras...

I think it would be fair to say that I am quite cynical about most alternative therapies but given that so many people swear by them, singing their praises at every opportunity, I felt like it would be unjust of me to not give them a chance at the very least.

It just so happened that on the same day I decided to give one a go I opened a magazine to find a local woman rhyming off stories about how many people with digestive problems she had helped over the years with her miraculous, and most importantly non invasive, treatment. So it didn't take long for me to contact her and arrange an appointment for later on in the week.

Skip forward a few days and I found myself sitting down in an incense laden room, filling in forms about the (non existent) stresses in my life and giving permission to have a head ache after the session. I made the hideous mistake of going into it believing that I would have little involvement in the process and that she would just work away until an answer would suddenly become clear and I could just go home slightly poorer but definitely a lot happier sans IBS.

What I didn't realise was that the session would run as such:

"I will ask your body questions to find out exactly what is the cause of problem. Then you will hopefully be able to elaborate on what your body is telling me."

And just like that my cynicism returned with full force - How could my body tell her anything? Particularly when she was getting her answers by just randomly tugging at my right arm...

Unwilling to give up so soon I did try to stick it out with an open mind, an open mind that was also aware of the £40 that I had shelled out to listen to this madness. My particular favourite moments came when she asked me obscure questions like "What happened when you were 18?" and "Are you angry?" to which my responses were "Em I have no idea what happened when I was 18, you are asking about 365 days of my life all at once" and "no I am not angry....Why would I be angry? I am currently inhaling a high level of very strong lavender incense, I can barely even scrape feeling frustration any more."

So the session carried on for a further 30 minutes during which time she was able to inform me that there was something upsetting my guts - a fact which I had been able to tell her in an email 5 days earlier, genius - and that she would have to work out what it is in a repeat session. Incidentally I was also told that my "chakras" wanted to see her again within a three day period. Oh really? I said as I looked at her with unabashed suspicion. Are my "chakras" going to head out to the working world to earn the £40 an hour which she was going to charge?

Never the less, unwilling to accept defeat from a potential solution so quickly I did go back for one more session (yes it was within the "necessary" three day period) and realised that although it wasn't giving me the answers I was looking for or indeed the help that I wanted it was a great excuse to just lie on a bed and shut off for an hour. An expensive hour, but a blissfully silent one all the same.

Maybe I will try other alternative therapies to see how I get on with those. Next on my hit list are going to be acupuncture and hypnotherapy - I have heard that both are meant to be beneficial to IBS sufferers so anything that even has a little bit of hope attached to it I am going to make sure to give a whirl.

Also anything that will delay the now seemingly inevitable date with the sexy camera has got to be worth a shot right?!

What do you mean "no puddings?"

In the UK GP's are only allowed 7 minutes per patient to diagnose and treat symptoms.

With this in mind and with 8 months worth of symptoms to discuss I recently marched in to my local surgery wielding a vast list of research that I had carried out, alternative treatments and health foods that I had tried, diets that were making no difference whatsoever and a long medical history of pills, supplements and vitamins which I was taking. I then proceeded to rattle through this list, to the horror of my GP, who sat quietly listening as my frustration with the situation became more and more apparent and my voice reached higher and higher tones.

I had been to visit my doctor on three occasions prior to this hoping to reach some sort of resolution to the problem, however each time I had been seen by someone different and it appeared that no record of these visits or the prescriptions supplied had been kept. Another thing that I noticed was that their immediate assumption was that the situation was being caused by IBS - diagnosed purely from my description of what had been going on.

There were no blood tests, no samples and no allergy tests, things that I would have certainly felt were elementary in ruling out more serious digestive complaints.

On occasions I was told that I just had to go away and deal with the embarrassing lifestyle as so many do every day and then my frustration grew - Why couldn't I handle this situation if so many women are able to?

I was left questioning whether I should be seeking help for a physical problem or for a mental one, as so much of IBS is related to your attitude to life. I was convinced that I was not under any stress, nor had I been when these symptoms started so it didn't make any sense that it could be impacting on my digestion. I began by looking at the physical problems that could have been causing this and went on a medical mission of my own searching for even the smallest clue which could help.

My process of trying to help myself began 5 months ago in the most obvious place that I could think of, at a food allergy clinic. As I waited to go in I was so full of hope that with one simple test and some small lifestyle changes I could soon be on the road to recovery, regaining the control over my life that had been lacking for too long.

The test itself was short and I was told that I was lactose intolerant with a small allergy to all pork products as well. The dietician helped me to plan a new diet and suggested alternatives for all the things that I would miss the most - chocolate (I ate about four bars a day...), ice cream (As a rule "no more puddings" isn't really something I wanted to hear), Saturday morning hot dogs etc were all to go.

But working on the basis that it was going to help me I was more than happy, well I was accepting at the very least, that these foods were to no longer to feature in my life. I embarked on this new routine with a 4 week deadline already set and the intention that following this short musical interlude I would be able to reintroduce dairy slowly back into my diet.

Yet alas 4 weeks later my symptoms carried on leaving me with little motivation to work slowly through the reintroduction process. My plan of eating an entire Easter egg in 30 seconds flat did not go down so well with my stomach but then again very little ever did. Whether the lactose intolerance was having any impact on the "IBS" I was never to find out.

Another desperate attempt to rule out dietary complaints came when I cut out wheat for a prolonged period of time. Having been very blessed with a high metabolism, no doubt boosted by my very active lifestyle, I had never been one for eliminating any food from my diet particularly on a voluntary basis. Having been told that I was lactose intolerant had given me a kick up the posterior for the dairy diet but opting to go wheat free on a solo decision was something I was certainly not used to at all.

I would be the first to admit that my will power is pretty shocking. I have always eaten what I want and given little thought to the calorie count, the nutritional content or the value of what I was eating. So it was a big shock to the system when I went weight free - bread, pasta, cakes (again!), cereal, biscuits - I waved good bye to the lot again with the hope that something, ANYTHING, would come from it.

My sandwiches at lunch were replaced with salads, my dinners became potato and meat based (typical Irish!) and I was fairly stumped on what I was allowed for breakfast so I just didn't eat it most days.

And yet again regardless of the efforts I was putting in there was no reward.

The frustration that I was having with the situation in general was then being compounded by the fact that, as far as I could see, I was doing everything in my power to try to change things for the better. I was reading forums, going to health websites, taking notes, making changes, buying expensive treatments to no avail. And if I couldn't do anything and my doctor couldn't do anything then where did that leave me??

My next step came through the world of alternative therapy - as they say desperate times and desperate measures often go hand in hand.

Imodium and Toilet Roll

I think you can safely say that something in your life has gone impressively tits up when your priorities make a drastic change over a very short period of time.

If you had asked me 8 months ago if I were to be trapped on a desert island and were allowed only two luxury items with me I wouldn't have hesitated in declaring that my Ipod and photographs would have been the most important things to me. However fast forward to the present day and my answer has changed somewhat. The "don't leave home without" items in my life have somehow morphed into Imodium and toilet roll, not exactly the most sophisticated or elegant of island companions.

Over the last 8 months I have found myself suffering from symptoms associated with IBS and for anyone who has had the pleasure of experiencing these you will know exactly what I am talking about. Stomach pain, embarrassing wind and frequent, urgent trips to the bathroom on a daily basis make up a handful of reasons why this syndrome is not exactly conducive to living the ideal life of a modern mid twenties lady.

As I embark on the process of receiving a diagnosis, and hopefully a solution, for this problem I am going to share with you every trick, every embarrassing situation and every test along the way until my life is hopefully returned to how it was before. I will attempt in my own way to provide an upbeat account of what has undoubtedly proven to be one of the most emotionally and physically draining experiences that I have gone through.

Allow me to rewind again temporarily to a time when I was enjoying a "normal" existence (although I have to admit such memories are fading quickly). I was always a very social and active person, lining up coffees with friends following work most evenings. I went to dance classes and gym sessions on a regular basis, enjoyed meals out and didn't care much for spending time in my house when there were other more exciting things to do.

Now my coffees take place in venues which are an easy sprint back to my house, my gym sessions are a thing of the past and as for meals out...well I have pretty much kissed goodbye to those altogether! I have changed nights out for frustrating nights in, lost touch with friends and am slowly becoming more and more concerned about what will happen if I leave the house. I have to play a speedy game of "find the toilet" every time I enter a new place just to have a smidgen of reassurance in the back of my mind.

I have always said that whatever the cause or reason I will face these symptoms head on and not jeopardise my lifestyle however after several embarrassing incidents my will power and strength is slowly being worn away. Take two of my most recent unsuccessful trips to the cinema in which I paid in, saw the opening credits and then spent the following 30 minutes staring at the inside of the toilet cubicle, trying to guess when the next person would leave so that I could make a hasty dash for the exit.

In another when embarking on a long drive with my best friend my stomach went into a full spasms leaving me with no option but to pull the car over at the side of the motorway! If you can imagine the scene as I scrambled up a muddy embankment in the pissing rain to get out of sight of on coming traffic while my best friend tossed me a sock to "wipe" with. Her later suggestion that I could just take it home and wash it was a tad questionable...although I very much appreciated her quick thinking.

Having a friend laughing uncontrollably definitely made the situation a lot easier to shrug off as a comedy moment and it did teach me one thing - making light of these episodes is the only way to keep going because without it the temptation will be to hide away altogether.

As the list of places I have pooped in continues to grow and shadow the most exciting places I have had sex in I will continue to try to salvage as much of a life as possible from this embarrassing condition.

In the next few blogs I will take a look back at everything that I have tried to lessen the symptoms and I will tell you what has worked and what hasn't. I hope this will be of use to someone and I look forward to hearing from anyone who can offer any advice.