The Early Years

Part 2

By now it was around mid November, and I was at Hope Hospital Salford, around 18 miles away from home.
I was now 17 and had not been home for a fortnight. I feel I should add at this point that not once did I have any pain killers. I'd got it into my head that if I took pain killers then I wouldn't be allowed home. Now although I desperately wanted to get better I was homesick and wanted to just go home. I think this stemmed from my earlier stay at my town hospital at Wigan and although they were nice in all wards (except one!!) they would tell me to say if I was in pain, and I did.....but they did nothing about it. So this is probably why!
Anyway at Hope, I came to realise that it was ok to ask for pain killers after a nurse sat down with me and questioned why I never asked for any.

During this time, my mum and my sister visited me every night and day (if possible), my dad sometimes came and during that year went on holiday twice (not sure if any of you reading would do the same to your children if they were in hospital). My Uncle (my mums younger brother) came more times than my dad!

I'd had lots of various tests to diagnose Crohns, I had various barium x-rays that year, one which was truly horrific at earlier that year in Wigan. I basically had to swallow a long flexible "drinking straw", whilst under the x ray. I did this whilst retching (sorry if you're eating) then a fine wire was inserted into the straw to straighten out the straw. I was then put onto a hard wooden table with no cushioning at all. By now being as skinny as I was, this was very uncomfortable. Then the barium on a drip was fed into the straw then they x-rayed me. The radiographer then had what can only be described as a "prodder". And he kept jabbing me in the stomach, why? I think it was to move the straw on....I really don't know.
I really wish I had the strength to knock this man out because I was in agony all the time. Later that year I had another, you can imagine my fear. All day I waited, they came for me late afternoon (obviously to make me worry more), I was back on the ward within minutes because they hadn't "emptied" me out with the laxative prep!
My mum went ballistic at the nursing staff, who were at the time discussing their Christmas party....by the way it was July when this happened.

Other barium tests were barium "meals" that you drink, and I did ask why couldn't I have this the last time? Wigan hospital had very old methods, almost Victorian, I began to wonder if they'd prescribe me leeches in case I caught the black death. They even lost my notes at one point after I transferred to Leigh, once found they were transported in a Taxi.

I'd also had sigmoidoscopy, colonoscopy,  endoscopy, various ultra sounds (in case I was expecting), ECG,EEG, Gamma camera, CT scans...the last 4 were for my seizures, they were making sure I wasn't epileptic too. I'd had some of these more than once because I'd been under various different consultants/hospitals.
I went through a phase of not being able to pee, my bladder was clearly bloated. So a catheter was fitted, under no anaesthetic (yes I know, it's agony). They were mentioning kidney failure now!
Fortunately both kidneys  were ok...my bowel was so inflamed that it was pressing on my urethra preventing me from peeing.

I was told sometime late november that I was to be operated on, it may seem strange but I couldn't wait for this..all those years of pain would soon be a distant memory or so I thought!

The operation went well I woke up with a ileostomy attached to me, and I just groaned and went back to sleep. My consultant had warned me that I may end up with one, but it would only be temporary.
Things went ok for a while until my "bag" went over active, basically the drip that was feeding me was going straight out. And I was gaining nothing from it..my weight dropped to just above 3 stone (around 25kg), by now everything was a blur I saw things that may or may not have happened, and maybe the drugs did all that.

That morning my mum and sister were asked to come in as I was "very poorly".
I was put into intensive care, for anyone not from the UK, they don't make these decisions quickly and I had a bunch of "suits" to see if my treatment was worth the expense of this bed. This bed was to be the turning point..