While you wait

A dear, sweet old lady sits knitting. Click-clack-click-clack. Her 79-year-old hands are as nimble and fast as those belonging to a 7-year-old Primark sweatshop worker. Click-clack-click-clack. The knitting needles are a blur of flurried activity. Click-clack-click-clack. She’s waiting for a blood test. She’s number 1265. The digital display beeps and turns over to 48. Click-clack-click-clack. The ball of wool in her lap shrinks to the size of a walnut. She reloads. Click-clack-click-clack. She finishes her jumper with a tight little knot. The jumper has a passable Michael Aspel face knitted on the front. She holds it up to the oohs and aahhs of the waiting room. Without pause for breath she starts knitting another. Click-clack-click-clack. The dear, sweet old lady asks if anyone has any requests. And soon she is creating a tank top with Amy Winehouse (no stranger to needles, ironically) on the front. Click-clack-click-clack. 57 on the digital display. Click-clack-click-clack. Now everyone is clambering to put in a request with the old lady. Number 63 misses his turn as he watches his Daisy Duke jumper emerge from the tips of those magic knitting needles. Click-clack-click-clack. An hour passes and everyone in the waiting room is sporting a hand-knitted jumper with a celebrity on it. Even the doctors have got in on the act. My consultant passes by looking quite pleased with himself, sporting a rather fetching wooly with Danger Mouse on it. Click-clack-click-clack. It’s one way to pass the time. Click-clack-click-clack. It’s important to have something to do whilst you wait. Click-clack-click-clack. I’m not much of knitter myself, although in my younger days it wasn’t unknown for me to make the occasional Action Man jumper or Womble scarf. No, when I’m waiting for my turn at the hospital I like to sort out my gas and electricity bills and other mundane domestic rubbish. Better to do it there than have it eat up my free time, I say.

Wednesday's diary on a Thursday 5.0

“I’m firmly in the 1 - 3 camp, which makes up 44% of us.” Did I really say that? Surely not? How could I have been so nonchalant, so bold, so certain, so rash…so cocksure? But I did say it. There it is in Monday’s post. “I’m firmly in the 1 - 3 camp, which makes up 44% of us.” Oh, how foolish I feel now. How damned silly. I’m going to have to cut myself a slice of humble pie. I’m going to put my bib on and eat my own goddamn words. WDOAT will explain why.

Wednesday 25th June:
6.45am Solid
1.30pm Solid, gassy
2.45pm Solid, gassy
6.20pm Mucus
7.25pm Mucus, gassy
9pm Mucus, nothing much else

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

Comments:
Room for one more in the 4 - 6 camp?

Shit off a shovel

I reckon I’ve broken a few land speed records legging it to the loo in my time, but I’ve never seen a loo that can break land speed records. Until now.

Number of number twos - the results

On average how many times a day do you 'go'?

1 – 3: 44%
4 – 6: 33%
7 – 9: 16%
10 – 13: 7%
More: 0%

It’s one thing writing about my own bowel movements, but it’s a whole different kettle of fish commenting on yours. It’s a delicate matter. So I’ll keep the smart-arsed wisecracks to a minimum. All I can say is thank you for taking part in the poll. It wouldn’t have been as revealing without you. So, what did it reveal? Probably it just confirms what we already suspected – that there is no ‘normal’ when it comes to ulcerative colitis. On a personal level I’ve discovered I’m pretty much Mr Average (this shouldn’t come as much of a surprise, ex-girlfriends over the years have been really quite insistent on this matter.) I’m firmly in the 1 - 3 camp, which makes up 44% of us. But I’m sure most of us in this group occasionally pop over into the 4 – 6 camp, which makes up 33%. And it would be nice to think that some of the 4 – 6-ers sometimes join us 1 – 3-ers. 16% of us are in the 7 – 9 camp and 7% in the 10 – 13 camp. Having briefly crossed into both categories myself, I know it’s exhausting, painful, utterly demoralising and intrudes upon every waking moment of your life. And every area of your life. I feel for you and hope things improve. I am thankful that I seem to have responded to my medication and those days are behind me. For now, at least. Although I probably shouldn’t count my UC chickens just yet. That then, was the number of number twos poll. If anyone has any suggestions for the next poll, I’d love to hear them. Right, Mr Average is off for poo number 3.

Four men in a boat

Right now, as you read this there are 4 men bobbing about in a 40ft boat somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic. Now, I may only be a mere landlubber, but I do know the Atlantic is very, very big and a 40ft boat is very, very small. One member of the 4 man crew is Ari Sussman, and he’s sailing across the Atlantic to raise awareness and money for the Crohn’s and Colitis Foundation of America. He’s hoping to raise $10,000. If he reaches his goal the $10,000 will be matched by the Lefkofsky Foundation. Kerching! Ari doesn’t have email aboard his boat, but his friend Joe who I presume is firmly on dry land emailed me thinking it might be worth mentioning on Number Twos. I think it is. If you want to find out more about Ari’s nautical adventure and maybe make a donation, you can visit his website here. And whilst we’re on the seafaring theme, and to get you in the right mood, here’s bit of Rod.

Wednesday's diary on a Thursday 4.9

This looks far worse than it is. Honestly. Most days I go two or three times and no blood. I think my tum knows it's WDOAT time and like a naughty child is just showing off. Tut, tut.

Wednesday 18th June:
6.30am Normal
11am Loose, gassy
1.15pm Runny
3.30pm Loose
7.20pm Loose, blood

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

Comments:
Blood in the bowl alert! Worthy of an exclamation mark I'd say.

All aboard the blog bus

Euro 2008 is in full swing. Austria and Switzerland are putting on a great tournament. It’s very exciting. Everyone is gripped by football fever. Apparently in Austria some fathers are even letting their daughters out of the cellar to watch. Ah, it takes me back to the summer of 1996. I was young, Tony Blair had yet to enter Number 10/Iraq and Euro 96 was hosted by England. It was indeed the year football came home. I remember one night being on a 134 bus crawling towards Archway, North London. It’s standing room only and it seems as if at every stop another gang of football supporters squeeze on. Raspberry-nosed Scots in their Tam O’Shanter hats who never stop slinging (slurred singing), the garish orange clad Dutch with plastic trumpets and whistles, and of course our very own St George Cross curly wig-wearing mob. Cheery, beery insults and banter ricochet around the lower deck. Singing breaks out upstairs. The Scots, who else? Not to be outdone the English Barmy Army retort with a window-rattling rendition of Three Lions, ‘football’s coming home, it’s coming home…’ Out on the street people wave and join in. I’m not exaggerating. This really was London in 1996. Someone at the back starts up with nursery school favourite ‘The Wheels On The Bus’ and soon everyone is singing, ‘the wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round, all day long…’ Cans of lager are passed around in pre-Boris booze ban bonhomie (try saying that after a few). Bunched up with my European brothers on that bus I sensed something special was going on. There was something in the air. It felt like something was happening. It’s good when things start to come together like that. And it seems to me there’s something similar starting to happen with UC blogs. Connections are being made. Personal stories are being told. Just yesterday Mark, who writes a blog about his life with a J-Pouch, contacted me. I think Mark offers something no doctor can: actual, real life, pooed-yourself-in-public experience. Having access to stuff like this can keep you sane. It’s comforting to know you’re not alone and the weird things that are happening to you are also happening to someone else. Even if they happen to be in Arkansas or wherever. Different continent, same shit. Ali, Rich, Glenyrd and Lottie also blog about life with UC, each in their own individual way. And I’m grateful for the time, effort and honesty they put into it. For me it’s like being on that 134 bus all those years ago; it’s all about sharing the experience.