Sick Son of a Bitch

That's me. I am one sick son of a bitch. No, I don't break into old folks homes or kick kittens, I'm sick because I have an illness.

What I have is called Ulcerative Colitis. Medically that means I get ulcers in my colon but in reality it means a whole lot more. There's all sorts of fancy terms and nice complex ways of describing what happens but I'm going put it into very simple terms. Only the few people I'm close to know about this, it's seen as embarrassing mostly, and here I am sharing it with the whole world. Let me warn the squeamish to look away now.

Basically the main problem with having colitis is that you almost shit yourself inside out, the ulcers in your colon cause blood and mucus in your stool and at times you'll need to go to the bathroom just to bleed. Imagine the worse case of diarrhea you've ever had and then imagine that could occur at any time. All of a sudden you need the bathroom and you have maybe seven seconds to get there.

Oh, and don't forget the stomach pain. It's not even the stomach as such, it's all the painful ulcers inside your colon and there's nothing you can do to ease the pain. At my worst I lost over four stone in weight, and so much blood I was anemic and hours away from a blood transfusion.

Now that's what the lucky people get, that's the normal part of having an illness such as colitis. The worse part for me is the rather more rare side effect of arthritis. This can occur anywhere in my body at any given time. Since it all started over four years ago I've had the arthritis in my jaw, neck, shoulders, wrists, fingers, hips, knees, ankles and toes. At it's worst I've been stuck on the toilet for hours because both parts of my colitis have seen fit to be in play at the same time and I've been unable to move. I've been unable to talk or eat when it's been in my jaw, unable to raise my arms above my head as my shoulders wouldn't allow it, unable to play my instruments or at times even hold a fork or spoon to eat. It's also been in my spine, which just leaves me unable to do pretty much anything. It's not been nice at all.

I hate it when it's in my legs. About three years ago the arthritis set into my right ankle and caused it to swell. I coped the best I could but eventually collapsed and was rushed to A&E. I told the doctors why it was happening but they insisted it was unusual for colitis to cause it that badly and proceeded to stab a giant needle into my swollen ankle to try and drain any fluid. Needless to say, that didn't work and it really fucking hurt too.

They eventually put my leg in plaster so that I didn't use it, but being as my shoulders get bad too they  wanted to give me a zimmer frame to get around on. At this point in my early 20's there was no way I was letting that happen so I struggled around on crutches for the next six weeks. Everyone assumed it was a broken leg or some kind of accident and for most people I let them believe this because I got sick of having to explain why my leg was in plaster due to my colon.

Even now when it gets too bad in my legs I need help to walk, and I hate it. I hate being 26 years old and having to use a walking stick, and I hate the way everyone looks at me like I'm some sort of mutant when I do. I used to run for miles before this all happened and now I sometimes need to rest when I'm out shopping!

I spent two years on steroids and put on a shit load of weight due to this fact too. Coming off the steroids was a long process and one in which I got very ill every time the dose got too low. Eventually I was put onto some new medication which, for the large part, sorts my stomach out and allows me to live a mostly normal life in regards to eating and not bleeding to death via my arse.

It goes some way to helping the arthritis too, but not enough really. At times I still find it hard to do things and cope with the pain. I still need my stick sometimes, but it is now a cool stick at least. It's the same stick Hugh Laurie uses in the show House, and is black with flames coming up from the bottom. I, uh, may have been sad enough to have it specially shipped over from the States...

I've been on the immunosuppressants for over a year now and they do help so much, but they can leave me feeling really washed out. I had major problems when I first went on them as for weeks I couldn't eat without being in so much pain that it used to cause me to pass out.

Anyway, so where is all of this going? Well the point is, on my medication I have to have lots of blood tests which is a pain, but beats being ill and it's not like I have a fear of needles or anything. I do have an irrational...I say fear, but it's not as such. It's more of a pathological dislike of...penguins. Don't ask why because I really don't know.

But in the pathology department where I get my blood tests done there is a giant poster of penguins on the wall! I'm sure the nurses think I'm scared of needles, but it's that bloody poster. It freaks me out every single time and I can't bring myself to say anything. With everything I've been through I deserve a break, surely? Why is fate so cruel?