Category Archives: IBD

Lucky Bleeder

This is an edited version of the chapter “Lucky Bleeder” from my book “Wrestling he Octopus”

Saturday 26th May 2012 – I was starting to feel rough again and would see how it went over the weekend as, fortunately, I was due to see my gastroenterology consultant the following Monday. Towards the end of dinner my body told me not to eat any more, not another mouthful. Normally the message is: “you’re starting to get full, slow down” but this was a definite: “stop immediately“. I had never experienced such a clear signal before.

Sunday 27th May 2012 – I had a simple breakfast but afterwards didn’t feel like eating anything else. I could only manage a little stewed apple for lunch but reassured myself that this could all be sorted out when I saw my specialist.

Monday 28th May 2012 – Guy’s Hospital – Gastroenterology – the original intention was to go into work, as usual, then catch the Tube down to London Bridge in time for my ten o’clock appointment.

When I woke up I was feeling unwell and decided to catch a later train, going directly to the hospital. I was used to an early start with virtually no traffic so rather underestimated how long it would take to get to the station from home. By the time I arrived I could hear the train pulling into the platform. I didn’t realise that it would wait there five minutes before leaving so tried to run for it and realised just how bad I felt. My chest started heaving and my heart pumping. I really thought I was having a heart attack. Once on the train I managed to take some deep breaths and gradually return to some type of normality. The rest of the journey was uneventful.

I made my way to the Outpatients’ department and waited to see my usual  consultant. I went through my list of queries and  went on to discuss my recent experiences of passing a jet black liquid from my back end. He asked me to get a sample for analysis which I thought would be easy but no luck.

Eventually I was on my way home and by now the temperature was high. By the time I arrived home I was feeling exhausted and went to have a lie down to recover. Around six o’clock I started to feel sick so disappeared into the toilet and then it happened… (skip the next paragraph if you are squeamish).

I brought up a large amount of what looked like redcurrant jelly but was clearly freshly congealed blood. I must have gone into shock and just sat there looking at the mess for a few minutes, thinking “What do I do now?” (Not like me at all. I usually react quickly to these little set backs, decide the best action to take and get on with it, but this was something I hadn’t experienced before. I will admit that for a while I simply couldn’t cope).

When my senses returned I decided that this was definitely a 999 moment. My wife made the call and I could hear her responding to the long series of questions that you then get asked by the operator. The decision to send an ambulance was made and she then hurried herself to put some things into an overnight bag before the ambulance pulled up our driveway. She hadn’t quite finished as the ambulance arrived. Five minutes from call to arrival. When she opened the door she recognised the paramedics as the ones who had taken me into hospital the last time we had reason to call 999. They came in to see what state I was in, took one look at the blood surrounding me and, to put me at ease, told me that it was only a small amount! It wasn’t.

I was loaded into the ambulance and then went through various tests before we set off. They were obviously concerned that my blood pressure was very low. They put me on a drip and the driver said: “I think we’ll go for the siren……”

A few minutes later we arrived at East Surrey Hospital and I was taken straight into the A&E assessment area and was immediately seen by a doctor to make sure I was stable. Over the next hour or so I was seen by a couple more doctors whilst they decided the best ward to send me to. The decision was taken to admit me to the Medical Assessment Unit where I underwent a further examination.

Now that I was stable and had made it to a ward there seemed little point in my wife staying. I had spent long enough in hospital environments to be perfectly happy to cope on my own. My sister had turned up to take her home so we said our goodbyes and I waited to see if I would be moved again.

My wife returned home and had to clear up the blood from the floor. I’m so lucky to have someone tough enough to support me when things are going messily wrong. As she always points out: “Women get all the good jobs”.

Back in the hospital they decided to send me to the ward which specialises in gastroenterology and I was wheeled off to this new location. I was seen by a duty doctor who made sure I was comfortable and worked out what drips I needed.

Tuesday 29th May 2012 – The rest of the night was spent undergoing regular checks on my blood pressure and temperature. I didn’t get much sleep but was just happy to be in the best place given the condition I was in. The ward was in the new section of the hospital and had only been opened three months previously.

I quickly discovered that Charlwood Ward was close to the nurses’ accommodation block. I can guess where your thoughts are leading at this point but my joy was due to having unlocked access to their wi-fi.

During the day I saw various doctors who were trying to decide the cause of the problem and which tests I should undergo. Their initial thoughts were that my Crohn’s could have started up in my small intestine or it could be gastritis or even an ulcer. The immediate priority was to have a camera down my throat (an OGD – oesophago-gastro-duodenoscopy) to see where all that blood had come from and, depending upon the result, follow up with a colonoscopy. They tried to get me onto that day’s list so I wasn’t allowed to eat anything.

Unfortunately an emergency case took priority and at six o’clock I was told that I could eat some supper. The doctor was very surprised at how calmly I reacted when I was told that I wouldn’t be having the test done that day and said she wouldn’t have been so laid back. I can only think that my attitude was driven by realising that I was in the best place, should I suffer from further blood loss, and that an extra day in a “safe” environment should not be seen as a problem.

It was decided that I needed to have a transfusion as my blood count had fallen to 6.5.  A second drip was added and fed into the cannula in my left arm. Cannulas can be inserted anywhere that a good vein can be found so are usually into the back of the hand or in the forearm at the wrist or further up, close to the elbow. My one had been inserted in such a way that if I bent my elbow it would cut off the supply. I spent most of the day forgetting to keep my arm straight which meant the alarm kept sounding and the nurses had to reset it.

Wednesday 30th May 2012 – When the doctors turned up for the ward round I asked them to ensure that I was on the endoscopy list and that whilst I had accepted that yesterday’s cancellation was due to circumstances beyond anyone’s control, I wouldn’t be so laid back again. Back to being “Nil by Mouth”. The blood transfusion had brought my blood count up to 8.6, still low but improving.

I had learned from previous experience that it is important to make a list of any questions you want answered. I had written down a dozen or so items and we went through them one by one. A lot would depend upon the outcome of the endoscopy and there were some issues to be discussed with the consultant. As luck would have it he appeared and I was able to ask him what the prognosis was. Again it would really come down to what the ‘scope showed.

Just after noon I was wheeled down to the endoscopy unit, adjacent to the ward, and into the new waiting area. When I entered the procedure room the doctor asked if I’d had a gastroscopy before. I replied: “about 12 years ago“, to which he responded: “you’ll be pleased to know that the tubes have got smaller and the drugs more powerful“. I didn’t take in much of what was happening and the next thing I knew I was waking up ready to be wheeled back to the ward. I couldn’t feel where the tube had been put down my throat. Definitely an improvement over my previous experience.

Back onto the ward and the wait to find out what the gastroscopy had revealed.

Thursday 31st May 2012 – as ten o’clock approached it was my turn to talk to the doctors on the ward round. They were expecting the gastroscopy to have shown that I had an ulcer, which had burst, or that the Crohn’s inflammation had spread. What they found surprised them – oesophageal varices. Prominent veins growing in the lower third of my esophagus and usually related to alcoholism! I looked them up on the internet and found that there is a possible link with the azathioprine drug that I had been on for seven years.

The next step was to have an ultrasound scan to look at my liver as they wanted to rule out portal vein thrombosis. This takes the form of a clot forming in main vessel that carries blood from the gastro-intestinal tract, gallbladder, pancreas and spleen to the liver. A blockage can cause new veins to grow to relieve the pressure and these may appear in the esophagus. They hoped that the scan could be done the next day.

Not wanting to lose more time I made sure that the nurses knew I was expecting to go for the ultrasound scan today, not tomorrow. It worked and they gave me an lunch early as I was on the list for the scan at 6:30pm.

Meanwhile one of the registrars spoke to my consultant at St.Thomas’ to appraise him of the situation and sound him out regarding starting steroids should it turn out that Crohn’s had re-emerged. He told the registrar that he had planned carry out another colonoscopy before making that decision and wondered whether the suspected liver damage could be due to the azathioprine.

As usual the nurses were tremendous. It wouldn’t be fair to name them but one came in to see us in the early afternoon to check our ward was OK and she looked very upset. She said that it had been a hard day and that one of the patients had suffered a heart attack from which they didn’t recover. She said that even after all her years of nursing she had to go outside and have a cry.

At a quarter past six the porter turned up to wheel me down to ultrasound. I was happy to walk but he had a chair so I got onboard and off we went with him singing away and saying hello to everyone we passed, all of whom he seemed to know personally. We even passed a pregnant woman to which he commented: “it’s a girl, love”. When we got down to the ultrasound area there were two women waiting. He pushed me into a position so I was facing both of them and said: “I’m sure you’re man enough to handle two women” and left me there. Ice well and truly broken

It was soon my turn to go into the scanning room. After a few minutes’ wait I was laying on the table, covered in KY jelly, and with the scanning head being run all over me. (I’m sure some people would pay good money for that). The scan was expected to show some damage to my liver but didn’t appear to. I would need to wait until I saw the doctor to go through the full results. It was time to return to the ward. Visiting time was due to start in five minutes. I hung around for a while waiting for the porter to reappear but there was no sign of him. The X-ray nurse took pity on me and said I could walk back to the ward with my notes. It meant that I got some much-needed exercise and was back in my bed for when my wife turned up.

Friday 1st June 2012 – there was a much-reduced number of doctors on the ward round. When they arrived at my bed I asked what the outcome of the ultrasound scan was. It showed slight splenomegaly (enlargement of the spleen), a 14mm gallstone but no hepatic or portal thrombosis. The doctor’s notes finished up with: “Explained to patient unknown cause for liver issues. We need to further investigate…

With the Bank Holiday weekend coming up I knew everything would go into limbo. At weekends there was a team of doctors that covered the wards but only saw patients that were causing concern. Staving off the boredom was going to be difficult. I asked if I could at least spend Sunday at home and had been told there shouldn’t be any reason not to.

Late afternoon one of the doctors came in to see me. I told him that I was planning to spend Sunday at home. He was concerned that my blood count had decreased to 8.0. The decision on being allowed out for the day would be made tomorrow when the next set of blood test results were available. I pointed out to him that there would only be a skeleton staff of doctors on duty and asked if they would have time to check my blood test results. He wasn’t sure. When my wife turned up in the evening I had to tell her that my planned trip home on Sunday was in jeopardy.

Saturday 2nd June 2012 – I had my blood sample taken as usual but never saw a doctor. I said to the sister that there was some doubt as to whether I would be spending Sunday at home. She replied that there was no reason to stop me and that some doctors always “dithered”. My day of freedom was back on.

Sunday 3rd June 2012 – it was nice to spend a few hours at home with my wife. Our dog seemed pleased to see me, partly because I didn’t play my guitar. I even got to fill the haynets and make up the dinners for the ponies.

I returned to the hospital just as they were serving up dinner – pasty in a sea of baked beans. Crohn’s patients are supposed to avoid high fibre foods but it looked very appetising and the ward was well ventilated so I thought what the hell and enjoyed every mouthful.

Monday 4th June 2012 – Spring Bank Holiday – more limbo because of the Bank Holiday. The only doctors on duty were seeing patients by exception. I could have spent another day at home but realised too late.

The phlebotomists did their usual rounds and I later found out that my blood count had dropped back again to 8.0 from 8.6. Not good and it would prolong my stay in hospital. The sister said that the doctors would be doing a proper ward round tomorrow so there was time to get a list of questions together for the morning.

My evening was spent watching the Jubilee Concert. We had applied for tickets and would have been disappointed if, having managed to get any, had then not been able to use them.

Tuesday 5th June 2012 – The Queen’s Diamond Jubilee – I didn’t get a particularly good night’s sleep as the patient next to me had his overbed light on all night. I couldn’t be bothered to get it switched off. I knew that whatever sleep I had missed could be made up for during the day. There was always a lull in Ward activity after the beds have been made and before lunch was served. By having a shower as soon as the fresh towels were available you could keep out of the way of the bed making and when you finished there’s a nice fresh bed to doze in.

I suspected that at some point I would meet my former consultant. That’s the one I had emailed around a year previously stating that I was now being treated by St.Thomas’ and not to bother to make any further appointments. I had a very good reason for doing this and I have subsequently found the chain of email correspondence that corroborates this.

I’m not going to go into all the details of this encounter but suffice to say that initially he would not look me in the eye and my decision, from a year ago, was clearly still bugging him. The atmosphere could be cut with a knife.. I reiterated my original reason for leaving his care and this may not have helped the situation. (His point of view was recorded in the ward notes). At one point he suggested that maybe it would be best for me to be put in an ambulance and transported up to St.Thomas’. The decision to move my treatment had not been taken lightly as it was far easier to get to the local hospital, 10 minutes from home, than to catch a train to London but I was now more convinced than ever that I had made the right choice.

At the end of a long and detailed discussion on what may have caused my current situation, and whilst the junior doctors listened on, we ended up agreeing that we should do what was best for my long-term health and shook hands. Subject closed. It was time to move onto the tests required and the best place to have them carried out. Clearly I was not in a position to think about discharge yet.

The recurring terms he used were primary sclerosing cholangitis (PSC) and portal hypertension. He thought that they were symptoms of a malfunctioning immune system and also linked to my thrombocytopenia (low platelet count) and enlarged spleen. I thought that the platelets issue had been brought on by the use of azathioprine but he was now sceptical at this. There was then mention of needing a liver transplant. My brain went into overdrive. Internally I was saying to myself. Liver transplant? Liver transplant?? What would that involve? Wasn’t there usually a waiting list? More major surgery? Would my body cope? How soon? It would be something to mull over whilst killing time sitting in a hospital bed. “Mull over”? Maybe an understatement.

After the ward round was complete I called one of the junior doctors over and asked: “how do you spell that primary thing the consultant mentioned as I want to look it up on the internet”. She replied that it might not be a good idea at present. I decided to park the research for the day but happened to mention it to my sister who immediately looked it up and rang me back. It was all a little scary (more understatement). The simple definition of PSC is a chronic disorder of the liver, of uncertain cause, in which the bile ducts within and outside of the liver become inflamed, thickened, scarred, and obstructed.

Ultimately, if it was diagnosed, the long term prognosis was the liver transplant he mentioned! The only way of getting a definite diagnosis would be to carry out a liver biopsy. That would involve passing a long needle between two ribs and into the liver to take a core.

With regards to where the tests should be done and the subsequent treatment – I could not remember what we concluded. I think my head was filled with so many other thoughts by then. Fortunately the doctor’s notes record that, due to the complex nature of my Crohn’s, I would be better off remaining under St.Thomas’ as they had more extensive facilities than East Surrey. They were also equipped to investigate my latest problem. I would revisit that subject the next morning during the ward round.

I try to keep a cool head at all times so it didn’t take long before I started to rationalise the information I had just been given but a little voice at the back of my head kept saying: “you’re only keeping calm because you don’t understand the full implications of what you’ve been told“. When I caught sight of the IBD Nurse I asked her if she could answer some questions, including translating all the long words the consultant had used. She could tell by some of my questions that nobody had ever sat down and gone through some of the basic concepts of Crohn’s and their implications.

Back in the ward it was decided that I should be given another two units of blood. Since I hadn’t had any for a week another crossmatch was needed as they only last seven days.

One of the young doctors said he would insert a cannula so that he could take the blood sample and then use it for the transfusion. I asked him, in all seriousness, if he was an expert with cannulas. He replied that they were one of his routine tasks. My previous experience had always been if you want it done properly ask a nurse. Unfortunately I wasn’t wrong. He took three attempts to get a needle into my right arm. The third attempt resulted in a working cannula but it was in a very small vein and close to my hand. Very inconvenient when eating etc.

Later in the afternoon the first unit of blood was ready for infusion. The nurse connected up the pump and switched on. It hurt. She decided that I would be better off having a new cannula put into my left arm. Without any fuss or need for a second attempt she inserted the new cannula in just the right position, reconnected the blood and removed the old one. From this experience I formulated my first law of cannularisation – “Don’t let a doctor anywhere near one”.

In the evening my wife came to visit. I had already rung her in the morning and told her the potential diagnosis so she had a number of questions. When the IBD nurse came into the ward we called her over and my wife was able to ask some of the questions she had thought of during the day. It was great that she had this opportunity as I didn’t have many of the answers.

Wednesday 6th June 2012 – that must have been the quietest night so far on the ward. I slept until about 3am but then couldn’t get back to sleep until around 7am. The phlebotomist turned up to take more blood samples and she was followed by the registrar and junior doctors on their round. I had quickly made a list of things to ask them – the top question was “plan for escape”.

I was somewhat taken aback when the Registrar said that as long as today’s blood test showed an Hb higher than 10 then I could go home. Today! I really hadn’t been expecting that. I had told everyone I was in until at least the weekend or possibly would be transferred to St.Thomas’. I now had to wait until around until 1 o’clock for my score.

I discussed various things with the Registrar, including revisiting what the gastroscopy and ultrasound tests had shown. For my long term care they were suggesting that I remained under St.Thomas’ and would be liaising with my consultant there to make sure the necessary test results were passed over. One of the junior doctors had been tasked with making this contact.

I rang my wife and then my sister to arrange to be picked up in case the result of my blood test was high enough. I then decided to contact St.Thomas’ to make sure they were aware of what was going on and to ask if I should start taking the budesonide that I had been due to commence. I emailed my consultant’s secretary and received a prompt reply telling me that the dialogue between the two hospitals had started and to hold off the budesonide for the time being.

I didn’t want to tempt fate so held off changing into my going home clothes. Just after lunch I had the good news, escape imminent. I just needed Pharmacy to sort out my medications and for the doctors to write my discharge letter. I thought: “that can only take a short while”. How wrong I was. If I had known yesterday that release was imminent I would have found the pharmacist and ensured that sufficient quantities of drugs, with the right labels on, were ready for me. I started to wonder if they deliberately chose to employ the slowest of the slow. Could the criteria for getting a job there be turning up late for the interview?

I finally got away at around six o’clock. It took close to five hours to get the drugs out of the Pharmacy. If I had known it would take that long I would have gone home and returned later. I don’t usually do “wound up” but this was an exception.

I was now resigned to yet another string of appointments and procedures to try and get to the bottom of my latest crisis. Was a liver transplant a real possibility?

Subsequently I had my first variceal banding on 3rd September at GSTT and then a further 3 sessions, at 3 week intervals, until the varices had been obliterated. Since then my Christmas treat is an annual endoscopy during the 3rd week of December.  So far I’ve only needed one session of banding, in 2014.

Viva la Vedo

Monday 15th April 2019 – Guy’s Hospital – Gastroenterology

The Vedolizumab Decision

(This post records an important discussion prior to the next stage of my Crohn’s treatment)

The gastro clinic at GSTT is a victim of its own success. Once a patient gets referred there they invariably don’t want to return to their original hospital. As a result clinics run late. I guess they must be overbooked to cope with the numbers. But forewarned is forearmed so I always take something to read. Having registered with reception I settled down with my book. A nurse appeared and apologised that the doctors were running 75 minutes late. I wondered if there would be time to go and get a chest x-ray (booked some while ago). It was worth a try. Ten minutes later I was back in the outpatients’ waiting area with the x-ray complete. Excellent service.

When you get called into the “inner” waiting room you know it won’t be too long until you see the consultant. I asked the nurse to put a note on my folder that I wished to see my usual doctor. After a few minutes he was calling my name. As I entered the consulting room I had a list of questions in my hand as an aide-memoire.

Capsule Endoscopy Report

He asked if I had received a copy of the capsule endoscopy report. Yes, but didn’t know what I was looking at. He worked his way through the document stopping at any frames of interest – “that looks like an ulcer, and there, and that’s one…..” – the conclusion was mild to moderate inflammation in my small bowel. I asked whether it was possible to work out location of inflammation as I get a pain across my midriff,  just above my belly button. He did not expect that to be where pain would be apparent. I mentioned it seemed worse when wearing a tight belt and explained about the hernia that had been found a couple of weeks previously and how it hurt more since surgeon had “poked around”. Normally a hernia would be put right in a simple operation but due to varices growing in my abdomen the surgeon was not happy to proceed. I had added it to my “on-hold” list – cholecystectomy; hernia repair.

Next he ran down the results of my recent blood test. “You’ve had chickenpox but not glandular fever as no antibodies are present, oh and you haven’t got AIDS but you probably knew that”. I replied that I had a very bad bout of glandular fever at the beginning of my ‘A’ levels, which accounted for why I did so badly. Maybe antibodies disappear over time. I was pleased to see that my Hb had now risen to 11.8. There was another test, looking at protein bands, one of which was marked “insufficient sample provided” which I thought strange as the phlebotomist had taken nine, full to the top, phials last time. I would need need to give a further sample after the appointment.

I outlined my reticence about starting Vedo :

  • Having been Crohn’s drug free for nearly 8 years I was hesitant to re-start
  • Side effects
  • Co-morbidities
  • Infusions. Whilst I like trips to London (at the moment) I might not do so as I get even older

What could happen if I decided not to start Crohn’s drugs? The worst outcome would be the inflammation becoming so advanced that the bowel could perforate or form fistulas and result in emergency surgery. Given that I should try to avoid surgery this sounded like a risk not worth taking.

The side effect profile of Vedo is very good and it is proving very successful. A recent study into its use with Ulcerative Colitis showed better results than expected. I said that I had seen some slides from that presentation as a member of the audience had posted them on Twitter. He seemed a little surprised at this but added “I do talk a lot!

Is Vedo compatible with my co-morbidities – bile acid malabsorption; portal hypertension; thrombocytopenia; gallbladder issues? I do have rather a lot of them. He told me not to be concerned about them and that I must be made of stern stuff as there were many patients at my age who were in a considerably worse state!

With regards to travelling for infusions, a self administered version of Vedo, using compressed air rather than a needle, has been developed and will undergo 2 years of trials. It should be available in 3 years time then no more infusions.

I asked in light of the calprotectin tests, suggesting the inflammation started early in 2016,  if I should have had a capsule endoscopy sooner than October 2018 ”  His response was that the first place to look following raised calprotectin results is lthe arge bowel. My colonoscopies showed nothing. The subsequent small bowel MRI also showed no inflammation. However given my experience he was now favouring earlier intervention with a capsule for other patients.

How would we measure the efficacy of the drug? Regular calprotectin tests throughout the year and at the end of the first twelve months a capsule endoscopy and small bowel MRI. The one thing I didn’t clarify is whether Vedo is taken to get one into remission and then continues as a maintenance dose or if another drug is then substituted.

I said that I wanted to discuss the situation with my wife before making a final decision but was leaving the consultation with a lot more positive thoughts about Vedo than when we started. How would I give the go ahead? “Contact the IBD Helpline and take it form there“. With that we shook hands,  I bade him farewell and headed for the blood test room.

Having weighed up the pros and the cons, and with the additional imperative of avoiding surgery (if at all possible) it would seem to be a no-brainer that I should at least try Vedo to get me back into remission before serious damage is done to my gut.

Now where’s that IBD Helpline number……

 

Pendulum

When I was younger, so much younger than today I never….

….wanted to go anywhere near a hospital. It was my biggest fear. Some of my schoolmates had already been incarcerated to have tonsils or an appendix removed. I don’t know what scared me specifically. Was it the thought of surgery? Was it an enforced stay away from the comforts of home and family? Was it thoughts of my own mortality? My fears turned into reality, in my early twenties, when I found myself in an ambulance, sirens blaring, heading for Croydon General Hospital with suspected appendicitis.

As it turned out it was more sinister than that – a perforated bowel that had leaked into my abdominal cavity and peritonitis had set in. (More of this later) When I left hospital after 3 weeks, most of which were spent on a “liquids only” regime, I had not suffered any particularly traumatic experiences but it had not lessened my fears.

I had been told that this first Crohn’s surgery was unlikely to be the last. In the ensuing years I still considered the knife to be the “last resort”(and, to be fair, so did my consultants). It was the “backstop” (to use a popular word) once all viable medication had been exhausted. In 2010 I was faced with surgery again having tried all the possible drug treatments. Thirty years between operations? Not bad. Three times longer than anticipated. Following the successful removal of a terminal ileum stricture, temporary ileostomy and subsequent reversal, I revisited my thoughts. If I had chosen elective surgery years earlier would my QOL have been better, sooner? The pendulum had now swung the other way and I started to advocate that surgery should not be considered a “last resort” or an indication that all other treatment had failed. It should be seen as an alternative to drug based treatment. It’s an area which various learned bodies are researching.

Then in January 2017 I turned yellow (jaundice). I was sent to see an upper GI surgeon (at my local hospital) who explained that the solution would be to remove my gallbladder. A relatively simple procedure, carried out laparoscopically. When he examined me he happened to notice the large, laparotomy scar stretching up my midline. He asked me to go through my medical history. At the end of my story, which included Crohn’s, portal vein thrombosis (probably due to the peritonitis), enlarged spleen and varices, he concluded I should be referred to a specialist liver unit as the operation would require specialist facilities.

A few weeks later I went to see another upper GI surgeon, this time at Kings. His registrar had started to go through the standard, pre-surgery checklist when I produced a drawing showing the route that my health had taken so far. She metaphorically gulped and went off to find the lead surgeon. He expressed his concern about carrying out surgery and after a lengthy discussion we concluded it would be best to leave well alone and only operate if it became absolutely necessary.

At my request I saw him again a couple of weeks ago as I had noticed a pain in my right hand side and wondered if it was a portent for needing his expertise with a scalpel. He prodded and poked the offending spot and announced that I had a post-operative hernia at the site of my former stoma. Again this would usually be a simple day operation but given my history it was another one to add to the “do nothing unless absolutely necessary” list. It dawned on me that the pendulum had now swung back to its original position. Due to circumstances, in my case, surgery really should be considered as a last resort.

In the meantime the long running “why is my calprotectin so high” question had been resolved. A capsule endoscopy in November 2018 showed that inflammation in my small bowel has returned. I have a meeting with my gastroenterologist next Monday to discuss starting Vedolizumab. I was minded to suggest holding off for the time being but that may not be a sensible position to take as I really do need to avoid surgery for as long as possible. Should be an interesting discussion.

Pre-MAB

I need some help from my fellow IBD patients. I had a phone call from one of the IBD nurses at GSTT explaining that they wanted to start me on Vedolizumab. The last time I was in this situation was August 2009. I was being given the choice – Infliximab (Remicade) as a “final, last chance, before surgery”. A real no brainer and no need for a long list of questions before making the decision. Who would choose the knife over a drug? (That would make a good subject for a new post)

Now, nearly a decade later, I’m being offered another MAB. (I won’t go into the reasons why but if you are interested this link opens a post, explaining the issue and what it’s like to have a capsule endoscopy, in a new tab – http://www.wrestlingtheoctopus.com/fantastic-voyage/).

I won’t make any decision until I have spoken to my gastro consultant – appointment set for 15th April.  Ahead of my meeting I need to get a list of questions together, usually a fairly simple task, but this time it is uncharted territory…..and that’s where I could do with your help. Have you had to make this decision? What questions did you ask/wish you had asked?

Here’s my latest list (26th March). Are there any glaring omissions? I’ve split them into categories :

Blood test results
  • What did the nine phials of blood taken recently show?
Capsule endoscopy results
  • What exactly did the capsule endoscopy show in the way of severity of inflammation and locations? Was it confined to the small bowel?
  • Would it account for pain around midriff? (Could be the hernia that the upper GI surgeon identified a few weeks ago, or maybe adhesions or scar tissue from laparotomy)
  • Was there anything else of note from the capsule endoscopy? Could anything account for my low Hb?
History
  • Looking at the calprotectin levels it suggests that inflammation started somewhere between November 2015 to June 2016 but was not apparent on other tests
  • It has been 6 months between having the capsule endoscopy mid-November and the appointment.
  • The above suggests that there is no urgency to start on treatment. Is this right?
  • My QOL is good apart from an ache on my right side which the Upper GI surgeon has diagnosed as a post-operative hernia at the site of my ileostomy
  • Surgeon does not want to carry out cholecystectomy or even hernia repair due to varices growing around gallbladder and elsewhere within abdomen. This suggests that I should try and avoid any colorectal surgery at all costs.
Vedolizumab
  • What was the gist of the discussion that resulted in proposing Vedo?
  • How will Vedo help me now? …and in the long term?
  • Are there any side effects I need to know about? Are any of these relevant to my other conditions? (BAM, PVT, splenomegaly, thrombocytopenia, gallstones)
  • Ongoing monitoring regime? Frequency?
  • How good a measure would calprotectin be for progress in treating small bowel Crohn’s?
  • Does the efficacy of Vedo differ as one gets older? Do the side effects change?
  • Reason for needing chest x-ray
  • Haematology suggesting another bone marrow biopsy. Do we need to wait for result before making decision?
Alternatives
  • What if I decide not to go back onto Crohn’s medication at present?
Reasons for not wanting to go onto Vedolizumab
  • Side effects of Vedolizumab.
  • Long term commitment to an infused drug
  • Trips to London (I love London so you would think a few more trips would be welcome but as I gel older will I really be so keen?)
  • Is there the opportunity to have infusions at a local hospital?
Iron levels/Hb
  • What can we do about Hb level and long term use of Ferrous Fumarate? Would an iron infusion be the answer?

 

Call My Bluff

It started with a routine calprotectin test in November 2015. The result came back at just over 100, which equates to “mildly elevated”. Subsequent tests continued the upward trend. A graph (I do love a good graph) is the best way to show the issue.
Calprotectin Test Values

To try and explain this ever rising trend I underwent a number of MRIs and colonoscopies but nothing untoward was seen and my gastros were stumped. Life continued as usual and my remission appeared to be continuing despite the confusing calpro figures. Could there have been something causing a false positive reading? I set about trying to find a plausible answer (that didn’t involve inflammation) but without success. In the meantime I was wondering why my Hb level was on the low side. Cue another graph…

Hb Values

It wasn’t until late 2018 that I went to see my gastro again, ostensibly to discuss the Hb level and a recent bout of “bathroom dashes”. Was it time to re-investigate the calprotectin issue. There was one section of my gut that hadn’t been seen by camera, namely the small bowel between duodenum and the anastomosis site (where my terminal ileum had been). I was booked in for a capsule endoscopy on 18th November. The full description of the procedure and the wait for the results can be found here (opens in a new window) – http://www.wrestlingtheoctopus.com/fantastic-voyage/ .

When the report was finally available my consultant emailed me to say that “there is some inflammation in the small bowel – it’s not terrible but it must be the source of the calprotectin. I  think it is probably enough to warrant treatment which we should discuss. Shall I arrange an appointment?” Yes, that would be a good idea. The date has come through for mid-April. A few more weeks wait before finding out the way ahead….

Then, last Thursday, I was rather surprised to get a phonecall from one of the IBD nurses. She told me that it had been decided, at the weekly virtual clinic (which I think must be like an MDT), to start me on Vedolizumab and they needed to book me in for a blood test and chest x-ray prior to my first infusion. I explained that this would be a major decision, as I had been Crohn’s drugs free for several years. My preferred option was to stay that way. I would want to discuss any new drug/treatment, at the forthcoming gastro appointment, prior to starting. (I have subsequently had an email from my consultant agreeing with this course of action. It appears that the IBD nurses had been very efficient in trying to arrange approval for the drug prior to the appointment)

Bluff

I’m now in a position that many other patients are confronted with – the end of remission. I’ve written many times about maintaining a laid back, positive attitude. Now my bluff is being called and I need to prove to myself that I can continue being calm and unstressed about my health.  So far so good. If my quality of life was being seriously compromised and I was unable to function properly then the decision to restart medication would be a simple one…..but it isn’t apart from…..

….an ache in my right hand side (URQ). It’s more annoying than being anywhere near painkiller territory. What could be causing it? As with most things #IBD related there is always a high degree of uncertainty. I consider this to be one of the major psychological burdens we bear.

I’m currently testing an IBD Self Help programme. It is broken down into modules which are completed over a number of weeks. I haven’t reached the “Pain” section yet so I’ve been relying on the old technique of visulaising the pain in an attempt to lessen its impact. That’s easier to do if you know there is only one cause but in my case it could be : the recurrence of the old ache around my anastomosis due to adhesions/scar tissue; gallstones; getting the balance of Loperamide/Colesevelam wrong; or the new kid on the block – inflammation. (“New” may be an incorrect description given that the first high calprotectin values showed up in May 2016).

Jump

You might think that I would jump at the chance of starting treatment but I’m not so sure. If inflammation did restart in 2016 then I have thrived so far without medication, do I really need to start now? I don’t want to be dogmatic and take a “I’ve been taking no drugs so I’m not going to start now” stance without good reason. A fellow Crohn’s patient asked what made me hesitant? I suppose the answer is “side effects”. I have not needed to educate myself on the progress of the MABs/biosimilars and their potential downsides. I have a lot of catching up to do and need to understand how the benefits would outweigh the risks.

I have however had experience of drugs damaging other systems or not working. I took Azathioprine for 9 years, with no apparent side effects, then my platelet count suddenly plunged. The concensus was that the Aza had attacked and permanently damaged my bone marrow which in turn reduced its ability to produce platelets. No more Azathioprine. I then tried Infliximab but after 3 doses my symptoms showed no improvement and I went under the surgeon’s knife (2010).

Platelet Count

Before the mid-April appointment I need to research Vedolizumab; ask other Crohn’s patients for their experiences and come up with a list of questions for my gastro. I’ve made a start……

Questions, questions….

I would usually leave my list until a couple of days beforehand. Given that this will be a major decision point in my Crohn’s experience I thought it best to start writing now.

  • What exactly did the capsule endoscopy show in the way of severity of inflammation and locations? Was it confined to the small bowel?
  • What was the gist of the discussion that resulted in proposing Vedo?
  • My QOL is good apart from an ache on my right side
  • Looking at the calprotectin levels it suggests that inflammation started somewhere between November 2015 to June 2016 but was not apparent on other tests
  • It has been 6 months between having the capsule endoscopy mid-November and the appointment. That suggests it does not need immediate treatment.
  • What if I decide not to go back onto Crohn’s medication at present?
  • How will Vedo help me now? …and in the long term?
  • Are there any side effects I need to know about? Are any of these relevant to my other conditions?
  • Ongoing monitoring regime? Frequency?
  • How good a measure would calprotectin be for small bowel Crohn’s?
  • Does the efficacy of Vedo differ as one gets older? Do the side effects change?
  • Is there the opportunity to have infusions at a local hospital?
  • Was there anything else of note from the capsule endoscopy? Could anything account for my low Hb?
  • What can we do about Hb level and long term use of Ferrous Fumarate? Would an iron infusion be the answer?

(If I have missed something obvious or you have beem in a similar situation then please leave a comment or respond on Twitter @crohnoid – Thanks)

…and another thing

A chance to combine the World Cup, gardening, Crohn’s Disease and colorectal surgery all in one post or maybe just a chance to do some navel gazing.

With the World Cup upon us once more my memory has been drifting back to when it was held in South Africa eight years ago and the situation I found myself in at the time.. A couple of posts ago I wrote about things I don’t/didn’t know about IBD and my unsated curiosity.  Here’s some other things that I’m curious about, bear with me.

In 2010 I knew I was heading for surgery. The pain in my abdomen/back was stopping me from getting a good night’s sleep. In May my consultant told me to expect  to go under the knife within 4 weeks at our local hospital. Preparations to get my life in order went into overdrive only to come to an abrupt halt when my wife and I were invited to attend an impromtu MDM with my consultant, his boss and their colorectal surgeon. The upshot was that the operation, or more specifically the recovery, was too complex for them to contemplate. They were referring me to St.Thomas’ in Westminster. You can imagine it was a bit of a bombshell.

A meeting with the surgeon at St.Thomas’ resulted in the date for the operation being set for the second week in October. (It couldn’t be September as he always went on holiday for the month!)

Strangely I started to feel a lot better and the pain improved greatly. I decided that one of the projects that had been on hold could go ahead – the construction of a pergola. It may not  sound very exciting  but it was quite a challenging piece of work, especially for someone about to undergo surgery.

Having designed the structure, ordered and collected the timber I spent many happy days and evenings digging the holes, cutting the joints and assembling the structure. It helped take my mind off the forthcoming operation. Although it was physical work it was also relaxing and, of course, tiring. Getting to sleep was not a problem.

A few days after starting….

The finished job

My constant companion throughout that period was the World Cup on the radio so when I heard the opening match between Russia and Saudi Arabia today (14th June) I was  immediately transported back to that hot summer, balmy evenings and re-ignited the questions…

In 2010 my guts were in a pretty bad way  – there were loops, fistulas and, probably most worryingly, my intestines had started to attach themselves to my back muscles (hence the back pain) and to vital organs.

One of the surgeons very kindly drew this diagram for me

The questions : If I was in such a bad way how did I manage to complete a physically demanding project. How much longer could I have continued without the “elective” surgery becoming “emergency” surgery. It was five months from when I had expected to have surgery to actually entering the operating theatre. It seems like a long time to wait.

I know I will never get an answer to my musings but once again curiosity is getting the better of me. I’ll just keep them on my lengthening list of “nice to knows“. Tune in next week for some more navel gazing (I’d like to commend the skill of the surgical team for still having a navel to gaze at.)

 

The Difficult Patient

I like to think that I’m a good patient. I very rarely forget to take my medication; I always turn up for appointments; I try to enter the consulting room with a positive attitude and clutching a list of questions.

…but I’m also a difficult patient. I think it’s true of any IBD patient that we are “difficult” because it is likely that on first presentation to our GP our symptoms could have a number of possible explanations. At least more doctors are becoming aware of IBD as an avenue for investigation. It took 8 months for my positive diagnosis of Crohn’s disease, via “nerves” and “spastic colon” along the way.

The difficulty continued. My platelet count dropped dramatically (thrombocytopenia). The most likely explanation? “It was the azathioprine.” So I stopped the azathioprine, my platelets showed no improvement and I ended up having surgery to remove a stricture.

Azathioprine is known to potentially affect the blood which is why we should have regular blood tests when taking it. Although my platelet count was around the 70 mark (usual range 150 – 400), I was asymptomatic. If I cut myself I didn’t bleed any more than usual and after several visits to see the haematologist it was decided to park the issue as it wasn’t affecting any other treatment. I had been in remission and Crohn’s drug free since surgery.

But what if the Crohn’s started to flare again and my gastro consultant decided the best treatment would be to restart the Aza? I put this to him and he agreed that we should un-park the question and try to find out whether the drug was to blame.

Off to see the haematologist again and two bone marrow biopsies later it was decided that Aza was the probably the guilty party, had attacked my bone marrow which in turn suppressed platelet production. (…..not everyone agrees)

The second “difficulty” was when I started vomiting blood, an incident that I have mentioned many times before. Into our local A&E and then admitted as an in-patient. The consultants there were expecting to find an ulcer. To confirm their suspicions they shoved a camera down my throat and were surprised to find esophageal varices. A simple-to-treat ulcer was actually something a lot more sinister.

One ultrasound scan later and it was identified as portal vein thrombosis. Time to pass me back into the care of my usual hospital. Treatment would involve both a hepatologist and haematologist. At my first meeting with the hepatologist I asked what could have caused the blood clot in my portal vein. He said that the most likely explanation was that it resulted from peritonitis brought on by a perforated bowel over 30 years previously. I have to admit I still struggle with this explanation. Why did it take 30 years to come to a head? Result – beta blockers and proton pump inhibitors.

The haematologist suggested that I started taking blood thinners to combat the threat of further blood clots. I really didn’t want to take any more medication than strictly necessary so we did a risk analysis and concluded that it was 50/50 for and against. Result – no warfarin. Another issue successfully parked.

Then came the jaundice as a result of gallstones. I met with upper GI surgeons at both my local and Kings College hospitals. The usual treatment would be to whip out my gallbladder using keyhole surgery but, of course, my case is not so simple. Previous laparotomies have left scar tissue and adhesions that would preclude a keyhole operation. Then an MRCP scan showed that the varices, that had grown down my throat, had also grown around my gallbladder.  Aaah!

What have we concluded? The choices are to operate now to prevent a problem in the future “that might never happen” or to postpone the decision and review again in 6 months time. He was minded to go with this second option. I wholeheartedly agreed with him.

…and finally there’s the little matter of conflicting test results. As it was the subject of my last post I don’t intend to repeat it here but it leaves me with questions. Is the “wait and watch, let’s park that issue” a valid strategy or best option in this instance. If I asked for further investigations to be done would I simply be using up valuable NHS resources carrying out tests that might make no difference to, or even worsen, my QOL? Would it even be clear which further tests could be carried out? As I said in that previous post, curiosity is getting the better of me but I’m not going to lose any sleep over it. That’s one of the advantages of writing a blog. You can get all your thoughts down in one place and then, you guessed it, park them.

Maybe there are no clear cut answers but I’m starting to feel that my “difficult patient” status can only get worse as the ageing process kicks in. Oh for a simple life.

Meeting People

THAT WAS THEN….

Up until 2010 I had only ever met 2 other people with Crohn’s Disease – a work colleague in 1992 and a neighbour a couple of years later. I had deliberately avoided joining any patient groups. Why would I want to go out of my way to mix with a load of “sick people”?

After initial surgery I had spent long periods in remission and never had a flare-up bad enough to be hospitalised. My only contact with Planet IBD was when I saw a consultant, sometimes six monthly, yearly or longer. My only knowledge of what it was like to live with Crohn’s was from personal experience.

Then in 2010, with surgery beckoning, I started using SoMe and suddenly I found the online IBD Community and “met” lots of Crohn’s patients, albeit in cyberspace. I then went on to meet a couple of them for a coffee.

….BUT THIS IS NOW

I recently had the privilege of taking part in a patient workshop. So what happens when a small group of Crohn’s patients get together, not virtually, but sitting round a table to discuss the cost of the disease to the patient? (and not forgetting the valuable contribution of one patient on speaker phone)? A number of things :

The barriers and taboos of “normal” conversation go out of the window. No subject is off limits. Any embarrassment disappears.

It quickly becomes obvious that whilst we share many of the same experiences, we all have a unique take on the disease and the way we cope with it.

The atmosphere is one of empathy and not judgement.

My overriding thought, having listened to everyone’s story, was what an amazing thing the human body is. The pain and heartache it can inflict upon us but also its ability to survive against all the odds. Even more remarkable is the human spirit and how it copes with a failing body and the mental anguish that a chronic disease can bring with it.

I also learnt some very specific things such as what a Hickman line is or why some patients have a Portacath or what it is like trying to claim support payments.

At the end of the workshop one of the non-Crohn’s participants said that until you do this sort of exercise you cannot understand how all encompassing living with Crohn’s is or, for that matter, any chronic disease.

I’m looking forward to the follow-up workshop later in the year.

…as an added bonus we were given a guided tour around the Bowel & Cancer Research laboratories by one of their very enthusiastic pharmacologists who explained some of the research projects underway

Bowel & Cancer Research Laboratory
Tissue samples undergoing tests

Loose Ends

It’s time to try and tie up the loose ends so that I can start 2018 with a clean slate. Where to begin?

Bile Acid Malabsorption – my pet subject. A much under-discussed issue that affects those of us who have had their terminal ileum removed. Having resisted starting yet another drug I finally decided to give in and try Cholestagel (Colesevelam) to give added control of the condition. Loperamide, on its own, seemed to be struggling. Apart from the odd set back the new tablets are working well and have topped up my confidence level. I’m only taking one with breakfast and one with dinner and matching that dose with Loperamide.

Calprotectin Testing – I was in two minds whether to even bother with another test as the last few results have been very high even though I’ve been feeling fine. My consultant said that I might as well be tested so I dropped a sample into the path lab with supporting paperwork. Two weeks later I contacted him to see if the result was back. He checked my record and all it said was “sample unsuitable”. What did that mean? I contacted the path lab and eventually was told that my sample was “unsuitable” because I hadn’t put my first name on the phial! Really? I am always very careful about putting ALL the relevant information of the label and that includes full name, Hospital No. & DOB. This was their reply :
 
“The following is the outcome of our investigation, our Central Specimen Reception (CSR) team only process samples following the Sample Acceptance Policy. Section 5.1 that states “The following minimum data set must be given for ALL laboratories: The mandatory three unique identifiers are: First Name, Family Name (Surname), Date of birth.”, and “Samples that fail to meet the mandatory criteria represent a significant risk to patient safety and raise serious concerns of sample integrity”.
 
They also stated that due to the “limitations of the IT system” it was only possible to mark a sample as “unsuitable”, not provide an explanation as to the reason. What I fail to understand is – if they didn’t know who I was then how come they knew it was my sample that was “unsuitable”. I would have thought that the combination of surname, DOB and unique Hospital No. should be sufficient for the testing to proceed. Normally I would take this further but, quite frankly, I don’t think they are worth wasting my time on. In the meantime I have provided another sample and handed it in to the IBD Nurses. I wonder whether that will be tested without issues.
MRI Pancreas Report – I had requested a copy of the last MRI report (October) but was starting to wonder if it had been such a good idea. Phrases such as “there is evidence of progressive portal hypertension with splenomegaly and upper abdominal varices” do not make for good reading to the untutored eye. Something to quiz the doctor about before the endoscopy.
 
Upper GI Endoscopy – 19th December 2017 – St.Thomas’ –
“Stick a camera down the oesophagus to see what’s occurring” day had arrived. The appointment was at 13:00 so plenty of time beforehand to visit a gallery (Dali/Duchamp at the Royal Academy) and do some Christmas window shopping (Fortnum & Mason).
Dali/Duchamps at the Royal Academy
Fortnum & Mason – Food Hall

 I arrived at the hospital early and took a seat in the Endoscopy waiting area, watching the boats passing up and down the River Thames. After a while a nurse appeared and explained that they were currently running about 15 minutes late but had four rooms in operation.  Each was doing a different type of procedure, some of which were a lot quicker than others. This was the reason some patients appeared to be jumping the queue. If only other clinics would adopt the same “keep the patient informed” approach. He then called my name to do the necessary safety questionnaire and give me a hospital gown to don.

 
I put it on over my clothes and sat in the inner waiting room. Another nurse appeared and explained that the Head of Department wanted to carry out my procedure (ominous) and they were waiting for him to arrive.  After a while a registrar appeared and took me into a side room to run through the procedure, the risks involved and to get me to sign the consent form. We then discussed my current health conditions and I gave her a copy of the MRIP report. I thought it was highly likely I would need variceal banding. She responded “Oh good, I enjoy banding” . I pointed out that I’d rather not need any as I didn’t want the 4 days of “sloppy” food that would neccessarily follow.
We discussed my ever enlarging spleen and I asked her what we could do to stop me becoming one large spleen on legs. She proposed upping my beta blockers (Propranolol) to the next level . I commented that given these other medical conditions, Crohn’s was the least of my worries. She concurred and with that we went into the theatre where the team, and the “top man”, were waiting.
Usually just the thought of the xylocaine (throat numbing spray ) makes me gag but this time I was fine. I didn’t even worry about the mouthpiece that guides the endoscope. A shot of fentanyl and the next thing I knew was waking up in Recovery being told by the nurse that I didn’t need banding. Result!
 ..but there is still one large loose end – cholecystectomy. I’ll defer thinking about that until the New Year

Whip It Out?

St.Thomas’ Hospital – Outpatients’ waiting area in Gassiott House

Friday 10th November 2017 – St.Thomas’ Hospital

My second appointment with the Upper GI surgeon to discuss a cholecystectomy. For some reason I was convinced it was at 10:40am and had arranged to be in Whitechapel at 1:00pm to attend a medical research meeting. When the text message reminder came through it showed the appointment was actually booked for 11:40am. If the clinic was running late then it could be a rush to get the other side of London on time.

I arrived early at St.Thomas’ so that I could drop off a sample at the path lab for calprotectin testing and to call into the Endoscopy Unit to ask why they had written to me about booking a procedure that had already been carried out the previous week.

When I arrived at the Outpatients Waiting Area I worked out that as long as the clinic was running within 30 minutes of the alloted times I should be OK. The large screen showed the clinic was indeed running “approx 30 minutes late”. My definition of “approx 30 minutes late” does not stretch to over an hour, which is when my name finally appeared telling me which room to go to.

The surgeon apologised for the delay and for facing away from me as he read my notes on his PC. He asked how I was feeling. I explained that I was still getting the pain/ache on my right hand side but I believed it to be from scar tissue/adhesions after my ileostomy reversal. He asked if it the pain was worse when my bowels were full. I confirmed that it was and he replied that this tied in with my theory.

He ran through the results of the recent MRI Pancreas scan. It showed that no further gallstones had made their way into my biliary duct and that there was slight thickening of the gallbladder wall. More worryingly varices had grown around the gallbladder. He explained that this was to be expected due to the blockage of my portal vein and the blood flow needing to find alternative routes. The presence of these veins would make potential surgery more hazardous.

They had discussed my case in their Multi Disciplinary Meeting at St.Thomas’ but there was no clear cut decision on whether surgery should go ahead. He wanted to further discuss my case at a meeting with his liver specialist colleagues at Kings College Hospital.

I explained that I wasn’t against surgery, per se, but whilst I was feeling fit and generally well I would rather postpone it until absolutely necessary. We went on to discuss the risks of waiting. The major one being a further blockage of the biliary duct which could lead to pancreatitis (serious).

He stated that in a “normal” patient, with no other complications, the usual treatment would be removal of the gallbladder by keyhole surgery. Because of my concurrent conditions and previous surgery it would not be possible to use keyhole techniques. The choices therefore were to operate now to prevent a problem in the future “that might never happen” or to postpone the decision and review again in 6 months time. He was minded to go with this second option and that was also my preference.

I asked if, in the meantime, there were any measures I should take such as the adoption of a special diet. He replied that this would be appropriate if I was overweight but that was clearly not the case. I also asked about whether I should be avoiding alcohol. He said that he didn’t see any need for this providing I did everything in moderation, after all “life is for living!”

He handed me a 6 month follow-up request form to hand into reception but said if I needed to see him sooner then not to hestitate to call their senior nurse co-ordinator who would make the necessary arrangements. With that the consultation was over. He shook my hand and said goodbye

I left St.Thomas’ at exactly 1:00pm. Big Ben was chiming the hour as I made my way towards Westminster Bridge. 35 minutes later I arrived at my meeting which proved fascinating and enlightening.

When I thought back to my appointment I realised there were a number of questions that I had intended to ask. I will put them in an email to the co-ordinator :

How long is the waiting time for elective surgery?

How long is likely recovery/recuperation time from open surgery?

Please could I have a copy of the MRI Pancreas scan report?

Was the appointment that had recently come through from the Haemophilia Unit as a result of the Multi Disciplinary Meeting?

Next visit to St.Thomas’ – 19th December 2017 for my pre-Christmas esophageal varices check up. This will be my tenth endoscopy since late 2012. The taste of the burnt banana spray doesn’t get any easier to bear