Another great show of support

I just want to thank everyone who got involved with the #getyourbellyout campaign yesterday! It was lovely to see so many take an interest.

From my knowledge, quite a lot of money was raised last night but that doesn't mean you can't keep donating! The more money we donate, the more research can go into preventing people needing surgery.

Lets make a difference.

Get YOUR belly out!!

TEXT CCUK14 £3 TO 70077 TO DONATE TO CROHN'S AND COLITIS UK. GET INVOLVED! #GETYOURBELLYOUT

Time to Make a Difference- #GetYourBellyOut

Right guys,

We all saw the effect that #nomakeupselfie had last week. Tonight, it is time to raise awareness for Crohns and Colitis. Tweet a picture of your tummy and hashtag #getyourbellyout and write a line about why you want to raise awareness. I will tweet mine very soon and if lots of you could either do it or retweet it so others know about it it would mean a great deal.

I'd really like this to kick off, so lets make it happen!

Interview by Victoria Marie about "Colitis Awareness GO"

One of my IBD family recently asked if she could interview me for a blog post she wanted to write about my new project, Colitis Awareness GO. She has  written it all up and it is live now! Do take a look at it and the rest of her blog, its wonderful.

http://colitisandme.blogspot.co.uk/2014/03/making-difference.html

http://colitisandme.blogspot.co.uk/2014/03/making-difference.html

http://colitisandme.blogspot.co.uk/2014/03/making-difference.html

http://colitisandme.blogspot.co.uk/2014/03/making-difference.html

http://colitisandme.blogspot.co.uk/2014/03/making-difference.html

Another trip to St. Helier

Yesterday, i had another appointment with Vicky-my stoma nurse. Shes very happy with my progress and lets me decide when to see her nowadays.

After the appointment, i wondered around the hospital for a bit. I want to try and stop affiliating St. Helier with horrible memories. I walked around all the places i'd walk when i was in there, went in the same lifts, looked at the entrance to each ward..it was strange. I knew what was going on behind those doors first hand.

I then went to have breakfast in the canteen, where a very odd thing happened. I ordered myself a sausage baguette, because i distinctly remember that being the first big thing i ate after my operation. Once i finished, i walked through the door that said "EXIT ONLY", which leads to the exit of the hospital. As i walked through it, something occurred to me; i must have been to that cafe over 20 times, and yet i had never walked through that door. Every other time, i would go back to my bed on the ward. It sounds stupid, but it hit me pretty hard and i dont even know why. It felt strange eating there and then not slowly limping back up to my ward and getting back into bed...this time, instead, i walked out and drove to school. It was bizarre and i dont know why its got to me so much. Don't get me wrong, it was great walking out the EXIT door instead of back to the wards, but it made me realise how long i really was in hospital for, and how accustomed i became to it.

But, like i said, appointment went well and at the moment things are looking up x

School Creative Writing Entry (WARNING: hard hitting)

Its a vamped up version of a post you guys have already read..only far better written.

“Saturday”

Every day had its bad points. Even the best of days would involve an incident that left him wondering; “why me?” This day, though, was a day that will remain in his memory like salt in the oceans. It is cemented in, deep, haunting him, stalking him. To kill the memory would be to kill himself; the memory, the, becoming his murderer.

“It was a Saturday. Mother and I were shopping in Kingston. We stopped off at the food court for lunch before heading home. The trip had been successful; I’d found my new jeans and mother her jacket. She went up to get our food and asked me to stay with the bags to ensure that they weren’t stolen. For anyone else: no problem. However, as she was queuing and I was watching the bags, an urge hit. The nearest toilet was at least a two-minute walk away. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t leave the bags but I couldn’t stand in the middle of a crowded room and soil myself.

I panicked.

I walked as fast as I could through the crowded room, clenching tighter with every step. My efforts were futile. I kept a brave face on and pretended like it hadn’t happened. I calmly walked to the door of the men’s toilets and, with my head held high, entered.

I don’t know why I chose to not wear a diaper that day, but the demon of regret sat there laughing at me as I lost another pair of boxers to Ulcerative Colitis. I waited to hear that the sink area of the toilet was empty before rushing out of my cubicle, putting the dirty underwear in the bin and escaping without being seen. I returned to our table at the food court before mother had realised I’d even left. I didn’t bother mentioning what had just happened; I just ate my lunch and smiled; smiled like everything was alright. The same smile I would force each and every day since being diagnosed with this awful disease. She bought it, just like everyone always did.

The experience in the food court was, as much as it pains me to say it, normal by this point. On numerous occasions, I would have accidents without people realising and quietly sort myself out. It is what happened next that haunts me in my sleep-the Freddy Krueger of my dreams.

At approximately 16:35, we got in the car and began the hour drive home. I was at the wheel, as I wanted the practice for my imminent driving test that I was so desperate to pass. The sun was shining, the radio was blasting and the food court memory was slowly fading away.

We were approaching Worcester Park, so home was still another 30 minutes away, when my tummy rumbled. A shot of pain in my lower abdomen queued the urge.

It was bad.

I saw a pub to stop at and go, but it was too late. Three seconds after the urge had hit, three seconds, disaster struck for the second time that day. The food court incident was a mere paper cut compared to the coma in which I had now fallen. It had not occurred to me until a few moments later that not only was I not wearing a diaper, but I was no longer wearing underwear due to the prior mess. The new jeans that I had bought only that afternoon were ruined. The leather seat of my car-to-be was ruined. My confidence, pride and self-esteem were officially ruined.

The noise and, of course, the smell, made it impossible to hide from mother. She offered support but I immediately cut her off. “Please, don’t say anything”.

I opened the windows and we sat in silence for the remainder of the journey. I held back the tears and focussed on the road, trying to ignore the fact that my legs and buttocks were covered in my Colitis ridden, warm, bloody stool.

We pulled into the driveway to the sight of my father standing in the porch with a towel and a black bin bag. He wrapped the bag around me, like a giant diaper, and I slowly waddled into the porch, up the stairs and into the bathroom.

The floor of the shower turned from a crisp white to a mixture of red and brown. I had asked my parents to leave the room, so that I could clean myself in an attempt to regain some sense of self-worth. I didn’t need them. Having them help by this point would have been too late. The damage was well and truly done.

I dried myself off, put on new clothes and walked downstairs. No one said a word. The day just carried on, just like all the others. We sat eating dinner pretending like what had happened was normal. In a sense, though, the months of rectal bleeding, popping 30 pills a day and multiple accidents had created a sense of normality to the events that Saturday. A sense of normality far from normal.

Things really are looking up!!

Lots of good things are happening at the moment.

1. The suppositories are working!! I am currently not wearing a bag over my fistula and am just using a gauze, because it is drying up! The pain when i sit down to let liquid out has disappeared and the liquid is black without a hint of blood in it! Finally a medication seems to be working!
2. I placed relatively highly in an international debating competition on the weekend, which was such a wonderful experience. Spending the whole day arguing, what could be better?!
3. I've started my new job and really enjoy it. Working out in the sun, talking with people for 90% of my day, its really lovely and much better than being cooped up in an office for hours on end.
4. I'm starting to feel really good about things and, truly happy.

Lets hope this all continues!!

Another course of suppositories

Once again i have been prescribed suppositories to clear up the colitis that has remained in my rectum (proctitis). This is the fourth time that i have been put on these and the previous three attempts showed little or no positive results.

I put the suppositories through my mucus fistula, as it is connected to my rectum and of preference to me than putting up the back way. It hurts, a lot haha. Its not the suppository that hurts, its my finger that hurts it when i push it further down. I have to get a third of my finger in before the suppository is in deep enough. Someone needs to make an applicator for suppositories.

But, you know the old saying: fourth times a charm! ...

My New Project: Colitis Awareness GO

So, i am not happy with the lack of awareness that there is for Colitis (and Crohn's), so i want to do something about it.

My plan is to travel around schools, like i have already done with Harris Academy and am soon to do at Royal Russell, speaking to sixth formers about my story and what Ulcerative Colitis really is. I will then speak about the Crohn's and Colitis UK charity and how important donations can be to help find a cure. To entice people to donate, and to aid in raising awareness, i am going to create and purchase customised wristbands which will say "raise awareness" on one side and "ulcerative colitis" on the inside and sell them at my talks-not for profit, but all of the money that i make from them will be donated to the charity crohn's and colitis uk. I also hope that when people see others wearing the wrist bands, they will ask "hey whats that?" and then awareness will increase simply through word of mouth.

If anyone reading this thinks that they're school would welcome me in to talk to the students, please contact me through the blog or my email wyatt2401@icloud.com

I really want to start making a difference.

Its the little things that piss me off

Right now, I've had an awful day and i cba to do anything. But, its change day. I REALLY cannot be arsed but i know i have to. Its times like this where i get unnecessarily angry that i have to do this.
Im just sitting here cutting and preparing my bags thinking "this just isn't normal" like when people wanna shower they just hop in, not sit and prepare for 5 minutes and then spend time after sorting themselves out. They just dry themselves. Yes i now do everything far quicker, but its still bloody annoying and mentally difficult.

EMAIL WAS HACKED

My new email is now wyatt2401@icloud.com

I got the job!

My trial day went really well yesterday and at the end of it i was offered the job! my first day is next saturday!

I was pretty exhausted after it though. 7 hours of physical work (lifting, moving things etc) was pretty tough considering i haven't used any muscles for exercise in nearly a year. I think in time it'll get easier but these long shifts may be quite tough to start with

My trial day at the garden centre!

Soo i passed the interview at my garden centre job and today is my trial run. Unless i severely muck up or they've found someone else better in the last week, the job is so nearly mine!

Finally, some proper school work!

During my time in hospital, i missed the weeks where my psychology class did the fun experimental coursework. Now though, my new year group class are about to start it so i get to join in with them! It feels so good to be doing proper work again-school work that matters. I love coursework and especially adore psychology.

I really am going to put 110% into this piece of work because its the first i've had in months and months. I'm very excited to see how it turns out!

My First Assembly at Harris Academy!

Earlier today, i was given the honour of speaking to the year 12 students at Harris Academy, Crystal Palace. One of the students wants to raise money for Crohn's and Colitis UK and asked me to speak to the students about what life is like with colitis.

It was really lovely, i've gotta say. I really enjoyed getting to do a bit of public speaking again, but mostly i enjoyed educating people about IBD. I spoke from the heart and and talked mostly about:

• life before colitis
• what colitis changed in my life
• the medications
• surgery
• what the future has in store

The students were incredibly respectful and listened to every word. Some stayed behind at the end to chat with me and some even appeared to tear up during my talk. It was refreshing to see people want to do something about Colitis and take such an interest in my story.

I thoroughly look forward to going back tomorrow to speak with the year 13s! :)

Flexisigmoidoscopy day (mini colonoscopy). Not a fun and happy post.

Today was the day of my colonoscopy. Obviously, it was not a full one as i dont have a colon to look at haha, but it was to look at the extent of the colitis still in my rectum.

I'll start with the good news: my rectum isn't as bad as my Doc thought and "should" be able to be fixed with suppositories for a few months.

The bad.

• Today was the first time i'd had a colonoscopy after surgery, so with the bags. This meant that a lot of the regulations and rules for having a colonoscopy didn't apply to me. I had to explain this to several different nurses and it became a shade tiresome.
• As i've had these so many times, i am no longer given sedation. When i was sitting in the recovery room, everyone had a cannula in their arm after being given sedation, but not me. I just lie there, fully conscious, whilst a doctor and his 3 nurses shove a telescope up my arse and discuss the lining of my rectum. The pain, the discomfort, its indescribable. I hate it so much now. I cover my head with the bed sheets and just sing songs to myself to pass the time. 
• Obviously, my rectum doesn't join up to my bowel now, it comes up to the surface below my belly button (mucus fistula) so that i can put medication down it. So, whilst they were shoving stuff up the other end, all the blood was pouring out this end. I could feel it all down my legs and over my belly. I could hear my fistula passing gas which really hurt.
• They took biopsies for further investigation, which involves taking pieces of my tissue to look at more closely. That too hurt a lot. 
• When i was wheeled into recovery, the nurses were originally surprised to see me sitting up normally and not sedated as everyone else was. I then discovered that my shorts bed and everything were covered in my blood. The nurses in the operating room said they'd cleaned me. They lied. My belly has blood, legs, shorts, bed sheets, everything. I sat there waiting to be cleaned for a good 10 minutes from once i got in.
• Lastly, though it may not seem a big thing to others, each nurse would look at me, look at my file, ask "how old are you michael?" I'd reply "i've just turned 18". Their reply: "noooo you're far too young for this". Do you think i dont know that?! how is reminding me or telling me that im abnormally young for these types of things going to make me feel any better?!

So yeah, it wasn't a great trip up to St. Helier. Oh, and to top it off, my plan of doing the first op, going to uni for first year, having the second op then going to second year uni-so that i would;t be 2 years behind-has completely failed. I asked my doc and he said the two ops have to be around 3 months apart. So thats that.

Overall, cock.

Colonoscopy day tomorrow

fair to see im not looking forward to it.