Intended to be "The Bowel Conversation" but gone off on a few tangents

In 1984 I sat my O'levels. In 1984 I was diagnosed with Crohn's Disease.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crohn

Not sure if those two events are linked or not.


What do I remember of 1984? I enjoyed studying for my O'levels. They were easy (except for french which I gave up as a lost cause cos I knew I'd fail; and therefore I did.) Then it seemed like a long summer of boredom. Of lying on the sofa watching TV.

I had wanted to leave school at 16 and tried to join the police cadets. I failed the fitness test. Couldn't understand why as I was very sporty. I was tired a lot of the time, though didn't really think much of it. I was lying in bed to lunchtime and lazying in front of the TV or outside all afternoon (depending on weather.) I lost several stone in weight that summer. Didn't think much of it; just wasn't bothered with food.

I remember (on the rare occasions that I was noticed) being told not to be so lazy.


In the weeks before my O'level results arrived I didn't get much sleep. So my mum took me to the doctors. He prescribed me 1 weeks worth of Diazepam to help me sleep. I didn't get to take any as my mum took them.


Had good results and went back to school. Still got tired easy. I was thin at 7st. I look at photo's of me then and I looked ghostly white. No-one noticed. I hadn't had a period for 6 months and had a lump in my stomach so I decided to go to the doctors. We lived in a village and the (male) doctor sent me home to get mum. In retrospect I get why as he was a one man band and didn't want to leave himself open to any accusations of improper behaviour. But I hate it that my mum was in the room when he first checked I didn't have an appendicitis (fingers up arse) to trying to see if I had an ovarian cyst.


In the end he referred me to the local hospital to a gynaecologist. He admitted me. After further tests and finally a endoscopy they diagnosed Crohns in the October of that year. My mum told me how hard it was for her as the doctor had told her (NOT me) that they thought I might have ovarian cancer.

My mum enjoyed the attention she got from people in church. Oh how hard it must be for her. She also told me what I bitch I was because I wasn't being very grateful to her because I was so uncommunicative. Don't think my sister was too happy with me either, but maybe I'm being unfair their.


I then went through several years of being on drugs, then in remission, then back on drugs. A levels came and went. I left school at 18 and joined a merchant bank in London as a clerk. Didn't like work so applied to university and went to Exeter the following year. (My brother encouraged me to go - my parents said they wouldn't support me unless I gave up smoking as what I was doing to my body was an insult to god.)

I didn't like university much. Everyone says how much it was the best years of their life. Not for me. That's another post. But a good friend died of cancer and I didn't cope well. I hated studying too. Remember I wanted to leave school at 16.

Anyway in 1989, whilst still at university I had part of my bowel removed. My health had deteriorated and as it turned out I had a fistula from my gut into my stomach. I rarely cry. But I remember the night before the operation crying all night. I had been vomiting that day and I convinced myself that I was going to choke on my own vomit whilst under the anaesthetic and die. I was scared. I remember again my mother telling how mean I was to her whilst I was in hospital. I also remember her praising me on how thin I was when I was discharged.

What they don't tell you is that your bowels seem worse after the operation than before. For several years, if I needed to go to the loo then I NEEDED to go to the loo. I would usually have about 2 mins to find a loo quick. Wherever. And you would be overtaken by the fear, as you desperately searched for the loo, that you wouldn't make it in time. That happened once. Luckily it was at night.

So that was 1989. I was told I had a 50:50 chance of the disease returning. It hasn't. I hate talking about it. I hate people knowing. I have however found it to work to my advantage twice. Once was when I needed my wisdom teeth out. I refused to have them out in the dentists chair and as they were worried that it may affect my eating, I was admitted to hospital and had them out under a general anaesthetic. The second time was last year. My head wasn't together last summer and the doctor said for me to take time off. Conveniently my doctor put Crohn's on the note as the reason. Totally unprovable! Coincidentally I went down 2 clothes sizes last year. That wasn't my Crohn's but rather me controlling / punishing myself. That nicely supported the doctors diagnosis. The downside is I can still see people at work looking at me to try and judge whether I have lost any weight as an indicator of my health. Why don't they just FUCKING ask me. That's mean of me cos I know some of them care. I do work on the principal in life that I don't mind people asking me anything. I will choose to answer or I'll change the subject.

If anyone says 'hows your Crohns' I squirm inside. Particularly my mum, though she seems to say it in a particular way that particularly grates. I feel angry I think.

Oh, by the way, I have never spoken this story before.