When I went into hospital, my weight went down to eight stone. Not cool for someone who is five foot six. My skin went to utter shit and my hair started falling out, strands cascading themselves everywhere I went, like a breadcrumb trail.
I arrived home with an appointment in a few months with a specialist and no clue, really, of what happened next. I diligently took my tablets and started to gain a little bit of weight, most notably in my cheeks when I developed moon face thanks to those lush steroids I was being given to treat the flare of UC that had seen me hospitalized. A few weeks past and the swelling in my foot and knee gradually went down, I was able to return to work and things went back to, well, normal.
I had to cut certain foods out of my diet completely. Sweetcorn, broccoli, cauliflower, spicy hot nandos and too much fibre were an instant no-go and I soon realised that eating is a bit of a trial and error. Some foods cause pain, some don’t. Some foods make me rush to the toilet and never want to eat them again, some are okay. It didn’t take me long to realise one thing though, and that was that UC is a pain in the arse. Quite literally.
Fresh out of hospital, determined not to let this get me, May 2009.
There was one more thing though. I was, and still am, determined not to let the disease get the better of me. So that’s it, that’s us all up to date. Four years on and I am still figuring things out but I figured this blog might help me do that and it might help others who have just been diagnosed or are battling with this pretty retarded illness.