Jump to content

Anus Horribilis


eldavo69
 Share

Recommended Posts

Thanks for sharing your experiences which must be worrying, in such a humorous way for us. Hope all goes well.

  

Having done everything you've written above, I know the outcome....unfortunately !

Hopefully a course of steriods will be all that you will need to help 'resolve' your new found love for your bathroom/toilet!

(Here goes....) I've gone through a fairly big change in health circumstances over the last 18 months quite closely related to what you have posted about eldavo. Once you have some results feel free to pm me to see if I can offer any help/advice

Max

  • Like 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Eek Max, not good at all. The reason I'm chronicling this is I know that with us being (in the majority) blokes and not in our salad days these things become more common.

Anyway, the consultant had left and I was into the toilet like a shot, where I sat for the next 10 minutes and did nothing. When I say I did nothing, I mean that physically I just sat still whilst the world fell out of my bum. It was like throwing cups of red water down the toilet at random intervals, I daren't move in case there was another tidal wave. It was safe to say that the enema had been a success and I'd be squeaky clean for my examination. The cramps and gas in my stomach were really painful still so I cleaned up and tried to fasten my gown up.

Now, I'd fastened it round the neck no problem but trying to fasten the back had me fumbling around looking in the mirror trying to grab the stray fastener. Eventually I managed to grab it and tie the cords behind my back but also managed to pull a muscle in my shoulder at the same time. Reminder to self; don't go to a hospital you just get worse. Confident that I had managed to regain most of my dignity I sat on the bed waiting for the nurse. I was due in theatre at 18:30 and it was already 18:15 so she told me things were running late and to get some rest.

I snuggled down under the thick duvet and managed to doze off for a bit and this helped me feel a bit better too. I woke up, flicked the TV on and watched You've Been Framed on ITV2, I mean, laughter is the best medicine right? I was getting quite into "Animals and Babies Falling Over" and was halfway through the second episode when the nurse appeared.

"They're ready for you now, can you put your dressing gown and slippers on" - part of me wanted to say no, I was really proud of managing to tie my gown up behind my back, a little recognition would be nice. It turned out that the operating theatre area was bloody freezing, I'd just have to hold onto that victory of dexterity for now.

Before I know it I'm clerked in, asked my DoB for the umpteenth time, and lying on the gurney in the operating theatre. I'm soon on my side, with a big towel underneath me and struck by two things. 1: it's even colder in here and 2: my consultant has good taste in assistants - the two nurses are both early thirties, a cute brunette and an even cuter blonde. If it wasn't so cold now would've been the perfect time to leave a bollock between my legs - sneak preview!

The consultant has a brief chat to me about what's going to happen but again I'm not really taking much in. The brunette is charged with making sure I'm ok and checking the equipment and screen, etc. in front of me. The main display is about a foot in front of my waist so I can look down slightly and see everything the consultant can see. At the moment that is a wide angle view of my hairy backside as the scope is on the bed behind me - maybe he won't feel like that sandwich later after all.

I decide to focus straight ahead until after the insertion has taken place and have my gaze locked upon the brunette's hands which are holding onto the bed rail directly in front of my eyes. I can't help but notice that she appears to have bad eczema on them, I'm halfway through a mental diagnosis of contact dermatitis when I'm squidged with more cold lube and suddenly I'm both impaled and in widescreen.

  • Like 3
Link to comment
Share on other sites

I couldn't agree more with your reasons for writing this up, Dave +++

They ask your DoB all the time to make sure they have the right patient, btw. Would be embarrassing if there was another Mr ElDavo there that day to have his toenails clipped and he got wheeled in instead of you :uhoh:

Link to comment
Share on other sites

I couldn't agree more with your reasons for writing this up, Dave +++

They ask your DoB all the time to make sure they have the right patient, btw. Would be embarrassing if there was another Mr ElDavo there that day to have his toenails clipped and he got wheeled in instead of you :uhoh:

This happened to me when I was about 12/13.

Went in to hospital for a month to be tested for alergies, upon checking me in, they had another person with the same name who'd they'd mixed me up with, he was booked in for an 'anal stretch' whatever that is, doesn't sound fun though! :eek:

Fortunately my mum spotted the error and my arse was safe!

  • Like 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

So I'm looking at the inside of my bowel on the screen and if anything I'm a little disappointed, there's loads of fairy liquid type bubbles in there. This irks me for two reasons; firstly, after what I've been through it should be sparkly and clean in there and secondly, I'm now questioning whether the nurse shoved a load of old washing up water up my arse for a laugh.

Weirdly, it's not too uncomfortable at the moment and the consultant asks me whether there was any blood after expelling the enema. I told him that unless it was a red enema then yes, there was lots of blood in it. He chuckled, but I think my delivery was compromised due to the fact he started to inflate me.

Yes, in order to have a better look around he uses compressed air to inflate the bowel, this feels very weird and is rather uncomfortable - like bad trapped wind. The movement of the outside of the scope isn't too bad and I can't feel the internal movement, just the inflation. I'm staring at those eczema-ridden hands again thinking of the soap dispenser in the toilet that said cracks in dry skin are a breeding ground for bacteria - just as well she's this end.

He stops a few times to take some pictures so I get a clearer view of what's going on too. I'm happier now that I look shinier inside but there is a bit of blood here and there too. Next up its biopsy time.

I feel a slight vibration through my arse (yes really) and see a fcuking claw appear in the centre of the screen. It's like something from the abyss, I'm not sure about this and quickly try to remember where the nociceptors (pain receptors) are located in the body. I decide now would be a good time to look for possible germ sites on nursey's hands. I feel a slight internal "twang" and the first one is done. It was painless but still an odd feeling. I decide not to watch the other 2 or 3 and apart from the buzzing in my butt and twanging in my tummy I don't know it's happening.

This is going ok I think and the consultant tells me he's nearly done. However, that's when I feel something on my arse cheek - it feels like the consultant is leaning on it for a bit more purchase. But as soon as I feel it it's gone. But there it is again, it's actually really tickly. I manage to glance over my shoulder and see that it's the cables for the scope brushing on my arse and try to ignore it. It happens again and I twitch slightly. The consultant quickly asks if I'm ok but as he does, the cables caress the full flank of my bum and I let out an involuntary giggle. The consultant checks in on me again and I have to explain that I'm quite ticklish and the cables are tickling my bum. It seems we're pretty much done anyway, the mood lightens and he starts to remove the scope, deflating me like a cheap holiday lilo along the way.

And then I'm done, lying on my back again but quite uncomfortable from all the inflation. He tells me to pass any gas I can, not to be embarrassed and that it'll help. I respond that I'm worried that if I do then I might pass more than gas. "It happens quite regularly, don't worry if that happens" he says. "It doesn't mean it's right" says I and he tilts his head and smiles.

I get rolled out into the recovery area, given some water and transferred to a wheelchair for the trip back upstairs. I think about offering to walk but figure sitting and clenching is better. The consultant shows me the pictures, talks through a few things and will be in touch with my results soon. Then I'm wheeled away back to my room.

I get delivered to the door and thankfully the nurse leaves me to it so I enter the bathroom and attempt to fart out Beethoven's 5th for the next 10 minutes. I walk out of the bathroom to get my clothes and there is a bed tray set out with a pot of tea and my chicken sandwich sat waiting for me. No doubt well meaning, the nurse has put the telly on and it's showing the England game, how much discomfort can one man take in an evening?

Sandwich absolutely monstered, quick change and down to reception to get a taxi home. It's been over 4 hours and I'm very glad to get home, get on the toilet and then go to bed. And then get on the toilet, and then to bed, and . . . Well, you get the idea.

And so the next morning . . .

  • Like 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

And so the next morning . . .

I went to the pharmacy to pick up the rest of my prescriptions, this was the same medication as the tablets I was taking but in a different form. Namely, a "retention enema". Yup. Stick it up and leave it there as long as you can, pretty much sums it up. Given that I'm going to the toilet 15-20 times a day, I'm not sure how retained it will be.

I'm sat in the pharmacist along with a couple of local wrinklies who's prescriptions are longer than this verbose thread and in walks one of the yummy mummies from school. She says hi, gives me a smile, and is about to start talking to me when the pharmacist calls my name before loudly exclaiming that they've only ordered one week's worth of enemas, can I come back tomorrow for the rest. She passes me a carrier bag with a box in it the size of a loaf of bread and I walk out quickly, eyes glued to the floor with a muttered "bye" to the yummy mummy.

I get home and prepare myself both mentally and physically before noting that it recommends you use the enema at bedtime - temporary reprieve!!!!

That night . . .

I'm re-reading the instructions for the 3rd time, on my side in bed lying on a towel with my right hand inside a disposal bag and my left hand gripping the bedside table.

It's worth taking a brief second to remember that my bum hole is very very sore as it is.

After a second or two's prodding around I'm pretty sure that I'm in the right position and go for it. Jesus f-ing Christ!!!!! You know what they say about never making assumptions, my failure here was the assumption that there would be some sort of lubricant on the tip of the enema. It's like I'm trying to turn my anus inside out.

After the "mild shock" shall we say, at least it's in so I push the nozzle in to where it's supposed to be and then have to squeeze about 100mls of drugs into my own arse. At this point I'm wondering whether this situation would be better or worse if I'd asked MrsEldavo to do it for me. I'm still not decided on that one but my nurse fantasies might be ruined forever so I'd better get used to it.

After 5 minutes of realising I'm not going to leak everywhere I try and get some sleep. Or rather, I spend the next hour and a half with severe stomach cramps before using £12's worth of enema to clean the toilet. This is not going to be fun.

MrsEldavo offers to get me some KY Jelly from work but instead I decide to have a trip out to Boots to buy some lube. I have a sense of déjà vu from years gone by where my consideration would be whatever the girlfriend of the time would be into. However this time I give "tingle" "warming" and "laconic blues guitar" a miss and buy the one that looks discreet and doesn't shout "this is going up my arse later". The girl on the till scans it and asks "is that everything?" Yes, that is everything, I only came here for lube and didn't even try and sneak it between some deodorant and hair stuff, that's how much of a deviant I am.

Nonetheless with a generous splodge on the enema tip it's smooth sailing that night. Note to self, leave lube acquisition to the Mrs next time - every day's a schoolday.

It's Saturday morning at 08:30am, I feel atrocious having been up a good half dozen times in the night. I've also started waking up completely soaked in sweat at least once or twice per night. This has never happened before and is so bad that I'm having to towel myself dry and sleep on the other side of the bed when I get back in as it's so wet. According to MrsEldavo it's a side effect of the drugs, according to MrEldavo it's another load of washing that needs doing!

So it's 08:30 and I'm back at the Hospital for a CT scan (Computer Tomography apparently, see always learning). I've not eaten or drunk anything and I'm told I have to have a contrast drink that may make me nauseous. That said I get the choice of orange or blackcurrant.

I spend the next hour drinking a jug full of this orange drink, reading the paper and googling who the Sunderland player is sat opposite me for a spine scan. All of a sudden, it's 09:30 and I'm taken out into the car park where the mobile scanner is. It's built into the back of an arctic and travels around the hospitals that don't yet have a permanent scanner of their own.

I have to get changed into a gown but I get to leave my underwear on this time, perhaps news of my unruly testicle has spread? I then lie on a conveyor belt that lifts up and moves me back and forwards through a big circular imaging machine a couple of times whilst they calibrate everything. The machine tells me to breath in then hold my breath as it scans me and the timer counts down from 6 to 0 then I can breath again. All calibrated and now the nurse has to give me a contrast injection. Eh? - I thought that was it, b'stards.

The nurse sticks a cannula in my right arm and then slides me through the scanner and asks me to raise my right arm so she can connect the pump that will pump the contrast fluid in. She explains that she has my arm up so that blood doesn't spurt out when she takes the cannula cap off. Wrong. Blood spurts out everywhere. There's nothing wrong with my blood pressure she tells me, no, funny that, it feels like it's rising.

I get a warning that the injection may make me feel light headed and make my bladder feel warm and then she turns the pump on. Buggery Fcuk, it's like someone has shot a hot iron bar down my vein, it's excruciating but by the time the pain registers it's already dying down and within 10 seconds it's gone. However, my head is now buzzing like I've done a load of poppers, blurred vision and feels hot. As for my bladder, I feel like I could unleash a stream of fire, not helped by the fact I'm full of orange contrast drink and bursting for a wee anyway. All this subsides with a minute and I'm ready to go.

"Breathe in" goes the voice. "Hold your breath" it goes again. The timer now starts to count down from 14, dammit I was lulled into a false sense of security by the 6 second timer and really should've taken a deeper breath. Luckily I don't pass out, all is well and 10 minutes later I'm back in the waiting room eating a biscuit before I can go home.

  • Like 4
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Had a call from the consultant as he's had the preliminary report from the radiographer. The blood results had come back pretty good but with markers raised for inflammation and the stool sample was negative so unfortunately it wasn't just a nasty bug.

Taking positives out of the results left, the inflammation in my bowel was confined to my colon/large intestine so it's not Crohn's but it is ulcerative colitis.

I'm already on the top dose of medication, with the marvellous side effects of diarrhoea and stomach cramps - which were the symptoms to start with!!! I started a strong dose of steroids today, I'm seeing my consultant on Wednesday and am then seeing a Consultant Gastroenterologist on Friday and will be under his care from here on in.

It seems the plan is to take a 3-4 week diminishing course of steroids and look at reducing the other drugs down to a maintenance dose too.

Long term I'm looking at medical treatment rather than surgical (which is nice) but the possibility of future flare ups is very real. That said, a month ago when this started I was very much better than I am today - so hopefully I'll be able to recognise a future flare up, neck a load of pills and manage it before it really starts.

So, all in all, it's not great that it's more chronic than acute but MrsEldavo has assured me that the steroids will make me feel far better within a week so maybe that cheeky trackday at Croft on the 27th might be a go-er ;)

Link to comment
Share on other sites

I saw the gastro consultant on Friday and asked him about diet and he told me to carry on eating a full and varied diet. If anything in particular makes things worse then note it down to let him know.

I'm feeling a lot better during the day once the steroids have kicked in, mornings and evenings aren't great but I'm sleeping better too.

My C-reactive protein scores (that relate to inflammation) have dropped from 44 to 31 but they should be around 5 so some time to go yet.

Edit - changed "to" to "too" so patently can get some sleep tonight.

Edited by eldavo69
  • Like 2
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Well, I've had the dose doubled on the main drug I take and then got a load of others to take. Half of them seem to be for the side effects of the others. Come Monday I'll be taking 22 tablets a day and with weekly blood tests too. The steroid course itself is a diminishing one over 16 weeks. I bought a 3-month prepaid prescription today ahead of collecting 5 further scripts on Monday.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Please sign in to comment

You will be able to leave a comment after signing in



Sign In Now
 Share

×
×
  • Create New...