Wednesday's diary on a Thursday 1.1

Another day, another batch of dumps from the diary. Not exactly Adrian Mole, is it?

Wednesday 27th September:
6.10am Loose stool
10am Loose stool
3.20pm Loose stool
10.30pm Loose stool, gassy.

Medication:
6 x Mesalazine 400mg
2 x Prednisolone 5mg
3 x Ferrous Sulphate 200mg
2 x Calcium Carb 1.25g

Comments:
I don't know for sure, but I reckon as the dose of Prednisolone gets weaker the UC gets a bit stronger. It's hard to describe how it feels down there, but it's just not quite right. And it's down to one Pred on Monday. Whoopee-doo indeed.

A reply, but don’t get too excited…

I’ve been on the receiving end of enough polite yet hollow emails in my time to recognise one when it drops into my inbox with a weary sigh. Reading between the lines I don’t think Max Clifford’s PA could really be bothered. But then why the hell should she? A reply is a reply though, and at least we have found out something: UNFORTUNATELY none of Max Clifford’s clients have ulcerative colitis. That’s not what I asked. But now we know. For a fact. It’s there in black and white. What can’t speak can’t lie.

Dear Martin,

Thank you very much for your email, unfortunately none of our clients suffer from the same condition as yourself and so I'm afraid that we will not be able to help you further in this instance.

Wishing you the best of luck and health in the future,

Kind Regards,

Kate Burgess
PA to Max Clifford.

Celebrity in ulcerative colitis shocker!

I was just wondering if there were any famous people with ulcerative colitis? And if there were would they be willing to talk about it in public? For instance, would Victoria Beckham risk tainting the precious Beckham brand by coming out and saying she has a slightly funny sounding bowel disease? But let’s say she did reveal she suffers from ulcerative colitis, could that really, actually, actually damage her image? Can you still be seen as sexy when you’ve told the world you sometimes have to go to the toilet ten times a day? And it can sometimes be a bit noisy. And there’s blood involved. And sometimes you don’t make it in time. I suspect she’d prefer to remain known as Posh Spice, rather than Poo Spice. Much more marketable, wouldn’t you say? I was interested to know what an expert had to say on the subject, so here’s an email I sent to PR guru Max Clifford:

Dear Mr Clifford,

I don’t wish to take up too much of your time, but I wonder if you could spare a minute to answer a question I have?

I suffer from an inflammatory bowel disease called ulcerative colitis, which is one of those slightly embarrassing problems that few people feel comfortable talking about. (Although it’s the only thing I talk about on my blog, www.numbertwos.blogspot.com)

So, my question, then: if a celebrity, perhaps someone young, glamorous and sexy, maybe in the pop world, had ulcerative colitis, do you think it would be detrimental to their image to talk about their disease? If that celebrity were a client of yours would you advise against it?

I’m not aware of any famous UC sufferers, although there must be some out there. I think if a celebrity were to come out and talk about having ulcerative colitis it might make it easier for the rest of us to be more open. Certainly I think it would really help younger sufferers.

Any thoughts you have would be of great interest. Many thanks for your time.

Martin

I'll keep you posted...

On the toilet trail

A congregation of cripple-arsed olive trees clings to the hillside, which falls away into the valley below. A squiggly dot-to-dot network of dusty, rock-strewn tracks connect a few isolated crumbly stone farm buildings. Bluey-green mountains rise up to meet a holiday brochure sky, dabbed with childlike fluffy white clouds, whose shadows trail across the landscape. God was having a good day at the drawing board when he created this part of Italy. It is quite simply stunning. “Not one flaming toilet as far as the eye can see.” I turn to face the Abbazia di Farfa. “And they named that place well. Farfa from the nearest bog.” According to the guide book the Abbazia di Farfa has been a place of pilgrimage for many centuries. Great if you’re looking to find God, then, but not, if like me you’re looking for a toilet. Blug-blug-blug gurgles my tummy in annoyance. My knees lock instinctively and my buttocks clench. I slowly approach the hire car, one careful step at a time, like I’m balancing a four pack of Andrex on my head. As I lift the car door handle I have a fleeting fantasy that it’s actually a toilet door I’m opening. It feels good, I feel safe, mmmmm…but alas it is just a fleeting fantasy, and a heartbeat later I’m back in the car scouring the map for the next nearest town. I want to say something like, “Step on it!” but my girlfriend has read my mind and where once our car had been parked a small cloud of dust is left hanging in the air. We zip along the winding mountain road, which on the map looks suspiciously like the lower intestine. Roccantica is a small town plonked precariously on top of a mountain. Unless you have wings and can fly, there’s only one road into Roccantica. We park outside the town wall and scurry into the maze of streets. The place is deserted and reminds me of the settlement of Mos Eisley in Tatooine from the Star Wars films. But unlike Mos Eisley there’s no sign of life. Roccantica is a beautifully eerie Mary Celeste of a town, mercifully adrift from our 21st century Starbucksian world, which is a rare and wonderful thing, but really, is a public toilet too much to ask? Blug-blug prompts my gut, impatiently. I consult the map, which I’m beginning to fear may have to be commandeered as makeshift toilet paper. Casperia is the next town. The scenery smudges into one long blurry tableau as we climb towards our destination at a rollicking speed. Casperia instantly looks more promising. There’s a small petrol station-cum-café for a start. I’ve got a nose for toilets, so I follow it inside, under the watchful gaze of a handful of locals. Cue choirs of heavenly angels; there it is, tucked away to the left of the counter, the Holy Grail, a toilet. I want to punch the air, do a jig and holler, “Yes, you little beauty!” at the top of my voice. Until my eyes come to rest on the sign taped to the door, which reads PRIVADO. The Translating Dept. of my brain sends me a message reporting, “We don’t know for sure, but we think it might mean ‘private’. Sorry.” Whatever a ‘crest’ is, mine has definitely fallen. Despondent I slink out into the unrepentant Italian sunshine. Blug-blug-blug. I lift my chin bravely. Blug-blug. Casperia rises before me. Blug-blug-blug. I survey its ancient walls. Blug-blug. I don’t need to go any further. Blug-blug-blug. There’s no toilet here.

Wednesday's diary on a Thursday 1.0

Thursday always used to be the start of the weekend for me and my friends, which would usually mean a few post-work drinks that would often continue so late they'd become pre-work drinks, but now Thursday means an altogether different thing...WDOAT!

Wednesday 20th September:
7.15am Loose stool
1.25pm Loose stool
6pm Loose stool

Medication:
6 x Mesalazine 400mg
2 x Prednisolone 5mg
3 x Ferrous Sulphate 200mg
2 x Calcium Carb 1.25g

Comments:
Down to a mere two Prednisolone tablets, but I think the UC has cottoned on and is gurgling his complaint. Still, it's not too bad and doesn't interfere with day to day life that much, really.

Which type are you?

I’ve got a hunch that there are two types of people in this world: those who inspect their own poo and those who don’t. There’s no two ways about it, regardless of gender, you’re either one or the other. You’re either a looker, that is to say someone who has a good long shuftie at their doings or you’re a flusher, someone who displays a far more carefree attitude towards their ablutions and pays not a blind bit of notice to what lies below. Needless to say I’m a looker, but there was a time when I was a flusher. A born and bred flusher, I was. Never felt the need to peek between my legs. Just didn’t have the inclination to view my poo. It wasn’t in my nature. I was never even curious. Didn’t give a shit to be perfectly frank. ‘Flush it and forget it’ would have served as a suitable motto had I ever felt in need of a catchy toilet based adage. Oh yes, I was a happy flusher until ulcerative colitis came along and my transformation into a looker began. On my very first morning as a looker I saw blood in the toilet. A lot of blood. Which is quite a grisly sight for any looker let alone an apprentice one. But here’s the thing, once you start looking there’s no looking back, only down. What started as an idle glance south has become something akin to a scientific study. Now when I peer into the bowl I’m checking for the three C’s: colour, consistency and content. From peachy blush to rustic terracotta, I’ve produced enough shades of reds and browns to keep Dulux inspired for a lifetime. At the moment though my iron tablets mean that everything comes out the colour of a polar bear’s nose. Consistency is consistently loose, what I would term runny. Good firm stools are hard to come by and the sight of a floater is a rare and eagerly anticipated event; a bit like Haley’s Comet. Content is where we get into the nitty-gritty. This requires a keen eye and a willingness to get down and dirty. Much like gold prospecting, patience and perseverance will be rewarded, often with the glimpse of a glistening tomato seed. All good stuff. Keeping an eye on the three C’s is essential if you’ve got UC. The three C’s give you an insight to the well being of your insides. So I’m happy to place myself in the looker rather than flusher camp. There is though perhaps a third category, a rarely spoken of, more secretive sect. Little is known of them, and outwardly little distinguishes them from you or I. You may be sat next to one right now and you wouldn’t know it. But they know who they are, and they and only they know what they do behind closed bathroom doors; they’re the sniffers. And the less said about them the better.

Wednesday's diary on a Thursday 0.8 & 0.9

Better late than never they say...

Wednesday 5th September:
9.30am Loose stool
11am Loose stool

Medication:
6 x Mesalazine 400mg
3 x Prednisolone 5mg
3 x Ferrous Sulphate 200mg
2 x Calcium Carb 1.25g

Comments:
Dropped down to 3 Prednisolone. Despite my holiday diet of pasta, pasta and more pasta things seem to be tickety-boo.

Wednesday 12th September:
8.15am Loose stool
9.45am Loose stool, gassy
4pm Loose stool

Medication:
6 x Mesalazine 400mg
3 x Prednisolone 5mg
3 x Ferrous Sulphate 200mg
2 x Calcium Carb 1.25g

Comments:
Week 2 of the Italian diet and on the whole everything is okay. I've been back on milk and cheese which doesn't seem to have had any ill effect. This whole diet thing is a mystery to me?