Skip to main content

A new low

Today I had the test that I have always hoped I would never have to have. The defacating pouch-o-gram. Aka the shit while we X-ray you test. 

You're probably reading this completely horrified. The thought of having to poo in front of other people, strangers, is well, quite frankly unthinkable. But I'm afraid that's what I had to do this morning. 

The test is used to help the surgeons determine my pouch function. To know whether it really is a truly naughty pouch as we all believe (which may mean having to go back to having a StomašŸ˜¢) or if it's just playing up but will get better with time. 

I was gowned up and taken down to the X-ray department. I really didn't know what to expect other than that they would fill my pouch up and then X-ray me whilst I pooed. The details didn't get explained to me prior to the test so my mind went crazy trying to fillin the gaps, imagining all sorts. 

I was taken into the X-ray room and they went through my details and asked by the radiographer if I was pregnant. Really? " You must be kidding!" I told him. Do you think I have energy for sex? I wanted to say. I can barely climb the bloody stairs let alone get jiggy at the moment. To cover their arses incase I was fibbing I had to sign a statement to that effect and then they explained the procedure. 

I sat- there were three people present. The doctor, the radiologist and the radiology assistant. Now the assistant- she was fantastic. From the north-east originally she was chatty and friendly. She put me at ease and tried to make light of what was a pretty uncomfortable situation. She said that they were the poo people and that this was an everyday thing for them and not to be embarrassed. She said it was a conversation killer at parties when she talked about her job though! 

There were three syringes laid out on a tray. One had a white watery substance in it, the second was thicker, more porridge like and the third contained contrast to make it all show up on the X-ray. 

I laid on my side, knees up to my chest while they lubed me up and inserted the syringes. I then had to stand up (on a mat incase of leaks I noticed) while they got out the loo. It was really more of a bin with a lid, complete with the yellow contaminated waste bag. It was placed by the X-ray machine and then I was told to sit and do my business. 

As I mentioned in a previous post I either have explosive bowel motions or these slow drip, drip ones that take forever. Today was the latter. So I'm sat there with it drip, dripping out conscious that behind the screen three people are watching me and taking photos (ok, X-rays) of me doing it. 

After about 5 minutes the doctor said that we were done and the assistant came out and started to get me a pad to wear back to the ward. "I'm not finished, there's still loads in there!" I found myself crying out. Why, oh why would I want this torture to carry on for one minute longer than necessary? I could have kicked myself. But they told me they had what they needed and that I could get ready to go back to the ward. 

So that was it. The test I had been dreading since it was first mentioned to me months ago was done. And truth be told, it wasn't that bad. I've had colonoscopies where I've felt more violated than I did today. The lovely northern lady definitely helped a lot and I try to tell myself not to give a shit (although today that was the complete opposite of what I had to do!)

This illness is crap. The tests and treatments can be degrading. But as a friend pointed out to me, the people that have to watch you, that have to poke tubes into my bum and examine the contents of my bowel and bladder- now they're the ones you should feel sorry for!

NB x 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Caravan wankers

Over the last few years when I was stuck in hospital for long periods of time Hubby and I would talk about what we would do if I ever got ‘better’. During some of those times when I was so, so poorly the idea of just being at home for more than a few weeks at a time seemed like a far fetched dream. But I’m currently living that dream! And obviously I know I will never ‘get better’ but for these purposes ‘getting better’ meant being well enough to be at home, not in pain 24/7 and not in bed all day, every day. Not too much to ask now is it??  So in our talks, once I was at home and was well enough to do the real basic things like watch Big Fella play football, Big Girl play netball, go to Tesco, play with the dog, go to the cinema etc one thing kept cropping up. We would love to have a motor home and tour round the country. We talked about the places we would like to visit, how much Buddy the dog would love it and how it would give us a chance to reconnect with each other.  But...

The light at the end of the tunnel is a train

Last week was a busy and pretty crappy week for me health wise. I had to go and have blood tests done with the nutrition nurses and I had two hospital appointments; one with the gallbladder surgeon in Nottingham and the other with colorectal surgeon at St Marks. I was hoping to have at least one surgery date to write in the diary following these appointments but I came home empty handed on both occasions. Here’s what happened.  I began noticing over the last few weeks that I’ve started feeling really crappy. I’m feel lucky to have been at home for the last 6 months and I have been the most well I have been for years but it felt like things had shifted slightly recently but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. But years of being sick means I know my body and I can tell when something isn’t right. I have been feeling permanently exhausted and having way more bad days than good. I’ve gone back to spending 2, 3 or more consecutive days in bed, unable to do anything but watch tv and sl...

Trying to get vaccinated

When I was an inpatient recently I asked about getting the Covid vaccine because I’m classed as Clinically Extremely Vulnerable (ECV). Apparently other patients on the ward had gotten theirs but I was told that it wouldn’t be possible and that I would have to get in touch with my GP. Apparently staff within the hospital had been using the system to book vaccinations for friends and family by saying that they were an inpatient and as a result they were now only vaccinating staff who could show their ID badge.  I can understand that people are worried about the people that they love but to think that people abused the system in that way makes my blood boil.  So when I was discharged I rang the GP surgery and was told that they had absolutely nothing to do with the vaccination programme and that I would need to get in touch with NHS England. So I called NHS England and spoke to an adviser who told me that according to the system I wasn’t eligible for a vaccination. I explain...