There’s a song that will forever remind me of my stay in hospital. It’s ‘number one’ by Tinchy Stryder. I’m not a fan of his work nor of the vocal (in)capabilities of the N-Dubz that also appear on said track. Sadly, someone had abandoned a TV with the music channel on, playing all day, through hospital issue earphones. As bad as it sounds. And now, whenever I hear the first chords of this song, I am transported back to this time in my life.
My stay in hospital was, however, made better by several things. Visits from my family and a friend, the daily phone calls from my girlfriend, getting wheeled downstairs for some fresh air (I couldn’t walk and hadn’t been able to now for several weeks), the beautiful flowers I was sent and the lady in the bed across from me, Nora.
Nora had Crohn’s disease, something, which until now, I was pretty unfamiliar with. Now I was hearing of it a little bit too much for my liking. It was being banded about when I was being sent for tests (including but not limited to an ultrasound scan of my abdomen and one of my legs which, thankfully, ruled out Deep Vein Thombrosis and the dreaded Bum Camera which was inserted in to inspect my colon) and now I was curious.
Nora and I grew pretty close, spending most evenings with me wheeled across to her bedside where we would watch TV and read gossip magazines, pick outfits that we would wear the minute we were out of hospital (itchy gowns, flight socks and joggers were the current state of dress) and talk about food. There was a lot of talk about food. Nora was currently waiting to see if she was able to have surgery and she hadn’t eaten for weeks, was on a diet of build up shakes and tea. The future, it felt, was looking glum.
Since my late teens, blood tests had shown that I was lacking in Iron. I had tried, and failed, to take iron tablets. (They made me feel sick and made everything taste vile and also there was the dreaded black poo. I mean, what the hell?) It was put down to my lack of meat in diet and that had always been it. It was just one of those things.When I was admitted to hospital, however, my iron levels had dropped to a dangerously low number and I was given a blood transfusion. I was then prescribed with iron tablets, alongside the anti-biotics and ibuprofen they were pumping into me.
More time passed. I’m not sure how long, just that it felt like forever. I fell into a routine of six thirty wake ups, med rounds, breakfast, sponge bath, tests, waiting, reading, talking to Nora, phone calls with my girlfriend, more pills, visits, food, bed. Repeat.
Then came the Bum Camera results which showed one thing and that was that I didn’t have Crohn’s Disease. Cool. I did, however, have Ulcerative Colitis.
Ulcerative what?
I spent just over a week in hospital and was finally discharged with a prescription of Pentasa (a mesalamine to treat UC), Steroids (used in UC when a flare up is happening), Antibiotics and Iron tablets, and absolutely no idea what happened next.
Every day looked a lot like this.
Mmm, crusty. Tranfusion hand.
Amazing flowers and cards that brightened up my days (:
Finally home!
you. me. uc. 