Category Archives: stoma

IBD Knowledge and Curiosity

They say with age comes wisdom. I fear I am the exception to that rule. What doesn’t come with age is knowledge. I proved this by spending the first 20 years from my Crohn’s diagnosis knowing very little about the condition. You could sum it up as : nobody knows what causes it; it’s incurable; you take steroids to keep it under control and get on with life; not many people have heard of it.

In 1998 there was the first mention of possible surgery to remove a stricture. I now needed to know what “stricture” meant and its implications. I started to take a little more interest but once I was safely weaned onto an immunosuppressant, and back to some sort of equilibrium, then my interest waned and life quickly returned to “normal”.

Another decade passed and then a routine blood test showed my platelets were dropping. As this was a known side effect of the immunosuppressants they were stopped.

In May 2009 a CT scan painted a complicated picture of both ileal disease and the suspicion that I was fistulating into other parts of the small bowel, possibly the sigmoid. My consultant put it in simple terms: “It looks like you’ve got an octopus in there”.

Fistula? I had no idea what that meant. It certainly sounded somewhat unsavoury. I started, again, to resign myself to surgery. After a brief, expensive, unsuccessful flirtation with Infliximab, the knife became inevitable.

As it approached I was confronted with new medical terms and there would be new skills to learn, for instance changing a stoma bag, but the knowledge I sought was still confined to my immediate needs.

Some of the basic information, that I’m assuming (hoping) newly Dx’d patients nowadays take for granted, had sadly passed me by. It wasn’t until 2012 that this was remedied by a couple of things, the first being my increased awareness of SoMe which lead to reading other patient’s stories. The second started a little more dramatically.

In mid-2012 I was rushed into our local hospital leaking upper GI blood. Once stabilised, given my history of Crohn’s, I was placed on the gastro ward. It was an eye opener. There were patients there who had admitted themselves as they were having a flare-up! Really? That was new to me. I had never even considered doing that. Could things really get that bad?

I became reacquainted with my old IBD Nurse who, sadly, had returned to being “just” a ward sister as she wanted to reclaim her private life. One quiet afternoon she sat on the end of my bed and we started chatting about Crohn’s disease.

She was surprised at my lack of knowledge and quickly realised that nobody had ever talked me through the basics. It was assumed that someone who had experienced the condition for so long must know all about it by now. I was guilty of this assumption myself as I knew no better. Our conversation was a wake up call to become better informed. Now my curiosity was awakened.

Six years on my curiosity is stronger than ever but I’ve hit a bit of a brick wall. It’s been the subject of previous posts and many, probably too many, Tweets. Although I’ve been in remission for several years I still undergo regular monitoring and this is where the problem lies. As usual I’ve drawn a diagram that represents my take on the situation..My case has been discussed at the Multi Disciplinary Meeting of one of the country’s leading gastro teams and the conclusions were : the colonoscopy findings outweigh the MRI findings in the colon. The small bowel was reassuringly uninflamed. There is no explanation for the raised calprotectin in terms of Crohn’s disease. Watch and wait.

From a health point of view I’m happy to “watch and wait” but my curiosity is sufficiently piqued that I would like find a logical explanation. It’s difficult to know what to do next. I’m rather hoping that by putting the details of my case out into the big world of SoMe it might just strike a chord with somebody – a fellow patient, an HCP or even a testing lab – and they will be able to point me towards a solution. Until then I have a feeling I will be returning to this subject on a regular basis.

 

Life Changing

Monday 11th October 2010 – OPERATION DAY

The operation time slipped from the 11:30am originally planned but eventually I was collected from the 12th floor and arrived down in the anaesthesia room at 12:30pm. The theatre team were ready for me and started the preparation procedures. They seemed to be a very happy crew, laughing and joking and that helped put me at my ease.

The anaesthetist I had met earlier then appeared. He greeted me with a broad smile and said he was ready to fit the epidural. Once that was done he said I’m just going to give you a mild sedative to relax you. I just drifted off into oblivion. Never trust an anaesthetist.

That’s the last I remember until waking up at six o’clock in Recovery. It was freezing. I was feeling no pain as the epidural was doing its job well but I was freezing. Shivering. Violently shivering. The house doctor, that I had seen in my room that morning, came up to see how I was. His first word was “Sorry…” so I knew what was coming. He told me it was a four and a half hour operation and that because of what they found when they opened me up it was necessary to have a stoma in order to give my large intestine a chance to recover. He lifted the blankets so I could see what they had done. It didn’t really come as a shock as I always knew it was a possibility and was mentally prepared for it. I can imagine what it would have felt like if I hadn’t been forewarned.

By late afternoon my wife was starting to get concerned. It must be a lot worse for those sitting at home waiting for news than the patient who is comfortably numb. She hadn’t had any news on how the operation went so she rang the Ward. They told here that I hadn’t arrived yet but would call when they knew what was happening. Just gone six thirty a doctor rang to tell her that I was OK. It had been complex surgery and I was still in Recovery.

The Team in Recovery were concerned about my readings, especially the temperature. At one point I had a “bair hugger” put round me which is a hollow blanket into which hot air is blown. Now I know what a formula one tyre goes through on the grid. I was offered a warm drink just a couple of hours after the operation. No more “nil by mouth”. It wasn’t until I was finally wrapped up in a large, microwaveable blanket that my temperature began to return to normal and I could be taken up to the ward. By now it was around eight o’clock.

Another huge change over the past few years is being able to use a mobile phone in hospital. I suppose it was inevitable as people would use them whatever. I asked the nurse if I could get my phone so I could ring my wife. As I explained earlier, they had locked my valuables in the ward safe and the night shift didn’t know the combination. Very frustrating.

I was taken to Northumberland Ward on the 11th floor, where I spent the rest of my stay. I had been expecting to be put in Page Ward, as that was the ward specialising in colorectal surgery. Unfortunately there were no beds available so I was put into the sister ward next door where they specialised in upper GI conditions.

{I felt really good and so could have easily written up my blog if I’d have had my iPad. (I imagine this was a post op high induced by the drugs). I finally managed to get hold of it the following morning to write this post.)

The house doctor came to visit me again to see if there was anything I needed. I asked him if he could ring my wife and tell her I was safely up in the Ward. He had a number of other things to take care of first but eventually she got a call at eleven thirty……..

I said at the top of this post that it was a truly life changing experience. I’ll go into more detail in another post but because of it :

  1. Lost my terminal ileum and gained BAM (bile acid malabsorption)
  2. Got stoma’d
  3. Started my relationship with St.Thomas’ Hospital
  4. Became very laid back about all things medical
  5. …and started blogging

Post Op Note : I never fully understood exactly what the operation involved. Earlier this year I contacted one of the surgeons and using the operation notes and pathology report, he put together this sketch for me.

op-drawing-by-surgeon

Old Dog, New Tricks

A post because of Crohn’s, not about it.

Whatever else you can say about Crohn’s Disease it certainly does give you the chance of new experiences, mostly unpleasant, to be honest. I won’t list the nasty ones here as they are covered in the video at the end of this post. I thought I’d record how I dealt with this opportunity in case others get a similar chance to raise awareness of IBD.

It’s something I’d wanted to do for a while. I suppose it stems from a reawakening of the “performing” instinct that first showed itself when I was  in a band. That was around the time I was diagnosed with Crohn’s.

mav_lak_2In this instance I really wasn’t sure what to expect. A fellow patient at St. Thomas’ Hospital was due to talk to some undergraduate nurses, about “Living with IBD”, but then found that they were double booked that day. Would I step in and do it instead? Of course I would, after all how difficult would it be to talk to a few nurses? The date was set for 5 weeks time.

I wouldn’t need any preparation. I’d lived with IBD long enough to write a book. I would just turn up and talk, or so I thought. The last thing I wanted was to read from a script but, after some more thinking, decided the least I should list out all the topics that needed discussing.

Years ago I dismissed mind maps as more “management clap trap” and then actually drew one and have been sold on them ever since. It would help clarify my thinking. Here’s what I came up with :

mind_mapAt this point  I found out that there would be around 200 nurses, in a proper lecture theatre and  I would be talking at the end of the afternoon. It dawned on me that to do the subject justice, and not short change the nurses, I would at least need some notes and something to keep everyone awake. I tried doing a run through, just using notes, and it was terrible – stilted, hesitant, repetitive…..  I would have to write the talk out word-for-word, the very thing I didn’t want to do.

I find that simply reading through what I have written doesn’t pick up  over used words or even ones that are missing. Much better to hear it being read. I found that the software I use has the facility to convert the text to speech and save it as an audio file in iTunes. I can then listen to it on my iPod.

After several iterations, including two read throughs to my wife, I was finally happy with the contents. Maybe if I then listened to it endlessly it would become engrained in my memory and I would not need notes.

After half-a-dozen listenings it hadn’t worked. I would have to work from a script after all…..

When I got to the theatre, with a real live audience, it suddenly became a lot easier. I did use the notes but just to make sure I didn’t forget anything (which I still did). I had taken a small camera with me but unfortunately didn’t get there in time to set it up properly so the sound wasn’t brilliant.

The resulting video was rather long, all in one go, so I’ve split it into three parts. Of the three I think that the second one covering surgery and stomas is the most representative. I’ll let you judge the result.

Kings College Hospital, Lecture Theatre

IBD Awareness, Stomas and Nursing Heroes

The theme for this year’s “World IBD Awareness Day” on 19th May was “Improving quality of life for people with IBD” and in particular the importance of Specialist IBD Nurses who can make such a big difference to patients’ lives.

My own experience of IBD Nurses is fairly limited. I have been lucky enough to only need to contact them with simple questions by ‘phone or email. I know, from conversations with other IBD patients, just how much support some get when they need help. I say “some” because not all patients have access to a specialist nurse and/or a helpline. A fellow IBD’er ran a poll on Twitter and as you will see from the results a significant percentage of patients are missing out.

Poll_1I’ll return to this point at the end of the post.

Last week saw “International Nurses Day” (12th May). It was an opportunity for patients to take to social media to express their thanks, publicly,  to nurses for the care they have received. (I would hope that patients thank their nurses face-to-face anyway).

I would usually fight shy of naming my nursing heroes. Patient confidentiality works both ways but there are two nurses who made a huge difference. If you will indulge me over the next few paragraphs I will explain their significance.

I’ve broadened the definition of “specialist IBD nurses” slightly to include stoma nurses as it neatly allows me to combine both the subjects of this post.

Whilst stomas are not the sole preserve of IBD patients it is a sad fact that many of us will end up with one, temporarily or permanently, at some point. I’d like to explain how the right support at the right time made a real difference to what could have become a very difficult period of major adjustment – getting stoma’d.

In August 2010 I had already been warned that I might come out of the operating theatre with one and to that end I had met with Fiona, the first of my nursing heroes, one of the stoma nurses based on the 12th floor at St.Thomas’ Hospital. She had spent time with me during the pre-op period explaining just what wearing a “bag” involved, some of the challenges I would face, answered my many questions and then marked the optimal site on my abdomen for the surgeon to aim for.

Coming round in Recovery, post-op, it wasn’t a great surprise to find the worst had happened. For those first couple of days after surgery you are so high on a cocktail of drugs that seeing your own, living stump of intestine poking its way through your abdominal wall is somewhat surreal. It’s at the point when your consciousness returns to some form of normality that reality hits and you need all the support you can get to start coping with this alien being and alien lifestyle. The thought of carrying round a bag of s*** fixed to your waist…..

Calmness and confidence are the order of the day. Fiona provided both in pouch loads. Nothing flustered her and that positive attitude transferred across. (Well, I like to think it did, but reading her ward notes from the time proved that reality may have been slightly different). She patiently visited me each day until she was confident that I could manage on my own.

Wind forward to the day of discharge and suddenly you’re home, alone (metaphorically speaking). It’s down to you to manage without the immediate support available on the ward. Fiona gave me a follow-up call to make sure everything was going OK and at this point my care was handed over to the local stoma nurse. This was Julie, my second nursing hero, based at East Surrey Hospital. She made contact shortly after my discharge and came to see me a couple of days later. She immediately put me at my ease and like Fiona was calm and unflappable.

I saw her on several occasions, not always in the best of circumstances. There was the time when my bag started filling with bright red blood, and the time when the stoma started prolapsing, oh, and the odd leak. Each of these problems could have knocked my confidence for six but each time Julie had a solution and some comforting words. By the time I was ready for the reversal operation I had become completely at ease with my lot.

There was never any question of a stoma nurse not being available either in person or at the end of a ‘phone. Why should it be different for Specialist IBD Nurses? I wonder if it comes back to the old idea of IBD being the “invisible” disease. Stomas are visible; tangible. For many IBD patients, those who have not undergone surgery, you really wouldn’t be able to tell they were suffering from IBD just by looking at them. Maybe that’s why IBD is not given a universal high importance.

You would think that providing these services would be a “no brainer”. Even if we ignore the advantages to the patients themselves then surely they must make sense on purely economic grounds. They act as a filter between the patient and the consultant. This will alleviate some of pressure on consultants’ time and potentially avoid the need for booking short notice outpatient appointments which inevitably means overloaded clinics. They may even reduce the number of visits made to the frequently beleaguered Accident and Emergency Departments.

I guess that it is all down to squeezed budgets and IBD not being sufficiently high profile to make it a political “hot potato”. This is why we need IBD Awareness Day.