17th March

Ruddy nosed men jabber and joke and wink and swear. They have sprigs of green pinned to the stained lapels of their shapeless black suit jackets, which have long since parted company with the trousers they once matched. Worn beneath the jacket is the ubiquitous V-neck jumper or GAA jersey: the insignia of Wexford, Kilkenny, Clare, Limerick are just a few on show. I’m wedged between the bar and a gang of four hollering away in their mother tongue. One tufty-eared gent peels away to gobble down his boiled bacon and cabbage, washing it down with savage gulps of lager. Dennis Taylor is greeted with a boozy cheer as Irish sporting heroes of yesteryear flash up on the big screen. A large group of girls wearing green ‘Kiss Me’ t-shirts sit in front of the stage, breaking mid-sentence to fend off amorous advances from all-comers. One girl leans forward revealing a shimmering emerald thong rising patriotically from the arse of her jeans. With a final swig the band strike up and we all sing along to The Fields of Athenrye. Shoulder to shoulder we sway, which has as much to do with the Guinness as it does the music. If you hadn’t already guessed, it’s St Patrick’s Day. And I’m in an Irish pub in Finsbury Park. Just as I’m thinking about going to the toilet Belle of Belfast City jolts the dance floor to life. Draining my glass I weave my way through the kicking feet, past the unsmiling landlord keeping a watchful eye out for trouble at the end of the bar. My nose wrinkles the instant I step into the toilets. I push open the door to the cubicle. The toilet seat is down and liberally sprinkled in wee. As is the floor. I can only assume whoever is responsible was attempting to draw a shamrock in the toilet bowl. There’s no way I can use this toilet. The clean up operation required would be on a par with those after the floods of last year. I fear sandbags might be necessary. These Irish may know how to throw a good party, but they sure as hell can’t piss straight. I’m going to have to go home. I make my way back through the bar as the band begins to play Dirty Old Town. How appropriate I think to myself.

The Loodle Gallery

'Able Bodied, Self Centred'
Ink on Toilet Paper
70 x 110mm
Unsigned

The post about stress I did want to write

So, 59% of us believe stress definitely has an effect on our ulcerative colitis and a further 33% think it might have. And 9% thought it was a load of old codswallup. As a fence-sitting ‘maybe’ I’m genuinely surprised at those results. 59% is quite high. If 59%, 33% and 9% were the results of the ‘ask the audience’ lifeline in Who Wants To Be A Millionaire, I’d be going with 59%, please Chris. But it’s not Who wants To Be A Millionaire and I’m not sitting opposite Mr Tizwas. I’m still sitting firmly on the fence. In my experience I can’t definitely say stress affects my UC. I’ll admit the first signs of my ulcerative colitis did coincide with a time of worry, upset and general grimness, but in the 2 and half years since I’d be hard pushed to say what makes my UC worse; whether that be stress, diet or naked trampolining. Maybe I haven’t lived with ulcerative colitis long enough yet to detect any trends? Or maybe nothing stressful has happened to me for a while. How do we define stress anyway? I guess it’s different for everyone. Obviously there are some situations that will cause us all stress; no matter how cool-headed we think we are. You know, the biggies, like death, divorce, debt and supporting Manchester City. Then you’ve got your everyday stresses, like work deadlines, commuting, money troubles, family hassles, kids, health, moving house, changing jobs and things like that. Unfortunately the list goes on and on. Now I’m not for one minute pretending to be some sort of Fonz-like character who saunters through life without a care in the world, but I’m no Woody Allen either. Some things bother me, but I don’t lay awake worrying at night, tossing and turning and getting myself all twisted up in my duvet. So I’m really interested in what kind of situations cause the stress that 59% of the voters in the poll think definitely affects their UC? Are we talking big life changing things or smaller things like making a speech or something? I guess what I’m asking is how much or how little stress does it take to make your UC worse?

Wednesday's diary on a Thursday 3.5

Wednesday is named after the Anglo-Saxon god Woden. The word diary comes from the Latin meaning ‘daily allowance’. And Thursday is derived from the Norse god Thor. So here is the decidedly Anglo-Saxon-Latin-Norse flavoured WDOAT.

Wednesday 12th March:
6am Firmish stool
9.20 am Firmish stool
1.15pm Firmish stool

Medication:
6 x Mesalazine 400mg
3 x Azathioprine 50mg
3 x Ferrous Sulphate 200mg

Comments:
I only did one poo on Monday. Jealous?

The post about stress I didn’t want to write

This was going to be longer.

I was hoping to write about the results from the stress poll.

But work got busy.

And something had to give.

So this is going to be a little on the short side.

In a way it’s still about stress though.

Because one way of the ways we can manage stress is to prioritise things.

That’s one of the things it says here anyway.

Right, I’m off for a bubble bath.

Then bed.

And I’ll write the post about the stress poll when things aren’t so, well, stressful.

Bath time

Recently I have rediscovered the joy of bubble baths. I am now what you might call a keen bubble bather. Of course, it being 2008 and not 1978, they’re no longer called bubble baths. I believe they’re called foaming baths now. Or herbal baths. There’s even the somewhat catholic sounding Plunge and Purify Bath Soak, if that floats your (toy) boat. And these days they all have exotic fragrances, like mango, coconut and papaya. Which I imagine is a bit like pouring a carton of Um Bongo into your bath. My bubble…sorry, foaming bath of choice goes by the name of Radox Stress Relief Herbal Bath. It contains rosemary, which apparently is renowned to relieve tension and restlessness and leaves you feeling calm and relaxed. The label boasts that it’s proven to reduce stress significantly better than a bath without Radox. How they qualify this I don’t know? For instance you could argue having a bath with Scarlett Johansson in it and no Radox might relieve a certain amount of tension. I think I can safely say that I’d step out of that bath with deep-seated feelings of inner happiness. Back to my stress busting Radox bubble bath. Also on the label is a bar chart. The tallest bar is blue and indicates ‘Tension level before a bath’; the second bar is two thirds the height of the blue bar and indicates ‘Tension level after an unfragranced bath’; then the last bar is smaller still, about half the height of the blue bar. This indicates ‘Tension level after a Radox Herbal Bath’. So Radox are claiming you’ll be 50% less stressed after one of their baths. That’s a pretty impressive statistic if it’s true. And with all this talk of how stress can play havoc with your UC, it’s something that definitely interests me. Which is why I’ve been sloshing the stuff into my bath every night for the last couple of weeks. And to think this time last year I used to relax by sloshing Guinness down my gullet. Oh, how times have changed.

Quick on the draw

If you ever find yourself in a public convenience and you’ve got a pen handy, but like me, you’ve been far too well brought up to ever graffiti a toilet wall* allow me to introduce the next best thing: loodles. Loodles are simply doodles you do whilst you poo. Consider a sheet of Andrex your canvas. It’s an opportunity to express yourself. To be creative whilst you crap. A chance to make a statement about life with ulcerative colitis. Some of the best art has been a result of suffering, after all. So if you’re a budding Botty-celli, why not send me your loodles and I’ll post them up. We can even have a Loodles Gallery. It could be a whole new art movement. Or maybe arse movement is more appropriate?

*Although I did once daub ‘MOSTLY I AM WRONG’ in 12-inch high letters across my office wall after a difference of opinion with the management of a company I was working for.