my story Archives

Three Ops and a Baby

Jo Driver found that ulcerative colitis was an unexpected precursor to motherhood.

I was ten weeks’ pregnant when I had my first – and last – attack of colitis. Not content with having the usual morning sickness, indigestion, backache etc, I decided to be more dramatic!

However, having the colitis and the subsequent sub-total colectomy and ileostomy (at 12 weeks’ pregnant!) certainly prepared me for motherhood. Getting up numerous times in the night to go to the toilet was good training for the sleepless nights to come. Emptying my bag made changing nappies seem like child’s play.

There were other advantages, too. Of course, I had no piles or constipation to worry about. Plus I avoided the condescending pats on the stomach, because people were too afraid to touch something embarrassing! And no messy “accidents” at the birth, no worry afterwards about straining and bursting my stitches (mothers will know what I’m talking about here). I was also complimented on how clean my stitches were – strange, that!

Of course, there were some disadvantages: having to wear a garish, patterned pink, gold and green maternity swimming costume to “hide” my bag; having to have an indecently long stoma so that I could see it over my bump (I felt like a hermaphrodite!); best of all was having a bowel obstruction at 7 months’ pregnant , and being told I was in premature labour! I have to say, labour was less painful. Still, they gave me lots of entonox for the pain – highly recommended, or should I say a recommended high?! Obstetricians, midwives, delivery suite, scans – I don’t know – all that fuss for baby muesli….. Premature labour, my foot.

Anyway, back to my attack of colitis at ten weeks’ pregnant. To avoid puncturing my colon, it was decided after two weeks that I should have the operation. I christened my stoma George. The nurses were pleased at his arrival – they were all starting to get severe RSI from writing details on my stool chart.

George was very well behaved, unlike the stoma I had after my next op, the temporary loop ileostomy and formation of my pouch. I called him George II, although I think George III would have been more appropriate, as he was completely mad.

He would have outbursts in public – he didn’t care where: backs of taxis, barbecues, friends’ sofas, an Indian restaurant. That last one was the best – I had already used up my spare bag and I was miles from home. I decided that to avoid needing a skin graft, I’d better get to the nearest A&E (which, in my case, stands for Accidents and Effluence). Of course, I wasn’t really a priority on a busy Saturday night and resorted to sitting on a pile of magazines to soak up my “homemade curry” (I sat on a pile of Hello! magazines, on the grounds that what was coming out of my stoma would blend in nicely…).

Eventually, after a few hours (ouch!), I was taken to a room and shown a range of bags. I’d pull the curtain and try one on – no good, next please and what about shoes to match? They were all colostomy bags, but better than nothing. My poor husband had to drive from Enfield to Penge in the middle of the night, stopping off at shops on the way for bottles of water – he needed them to dilute his alcohol content, because he hadn’t planned on driving, and I don’t need to tell you what I needed them for.

Poor George, it wasn’t his fault – he was just a funny shape and very close to my skin. And of course, it was all worth it in the end. But I must admit, I started making so many deposits, I thought I’d been reincarnated as a pigeon.

Conversely, my pouch has been impeccably behaved. Apart from getting an infection after its formation, and therefore not leaving St Mark’s until Christmas Eve – I’ll go to any lengths to get my husband to cook Christmas dinner! – my pouch has been wonderful. As are Mr Nicholls and his team; all the stoma nurses that looked after me; Mr Swift and Mr Hurley, and their teams from the Mayday in Croyden, and Mr Theodossi and his team from the same hospital. Oh, and of course Mr Clarkson, my obstetrician, who must have spent a few nerve-wracking hours overseeing my colectomy

Yes, I’m glad I didn’t decide to become an eternal ostomist. OK, so I need soundproofing on my bathroom walls; my homemade curry results in “Poucho Marks” on the sheets (so strictly for when I’m on my own), and I’m buying shares in Sudocrem. But I made the right choice.

So if having an ileostomy isn’t your bag and you want to start using those bendy bag closures as freezer bag ties (very handy), go for it if you can. You don’t have anything to lose, apart from a few months off work! Blast the resulting itchiness…BOTTOMS UP!

By the way, my pregnancy went smoothly after my blip at 7 months and I gave birth naturally to a beautiful baby girl ( naturally to a girl – they’re stronger in the womb!). She’s now five and a half, with gorgeous red curly hair and blue grey eyes. Sally Louise, you were worth every bit of my story, and thank God for making you so strong…

Stories

Kock Pouch Pioneer

Hannah Barrow has had her Kock pouch since 1972. She was born in 1914, and this was just about the very first Kock pouch operation in the UK, so she was a bit of a guinea pig. But she was so ill it was a risk worth taking.

I was born in 1914 in the small market town of Congleton. The two main streets were full of large and small shops, all owned by local people. We had three cinemas and three dances a week. These days, there is nothing for young people to do.

I started work at 14 years old, as a machinist in one of the many textile mills, mostly producing football and rugby shirts. In the winter, orders were very few, so we worked one week and the following week were on the dole. The week benefit was paid, we were compelled to attend night school to learn shorthand. I don’t know what that did for us!

I was on piece work. You earned your own money. Sometimes we would sit at our machine waiting for work from 7.30am till 6pm and go home without earning a single penny. Still, we had some good times and it was lovely countryside around Congleton.

My husband died 14 years ago and I have one son, Robert. My first husband, Rob’s Dad, died of cancer when Rob was five years old. They were hard times then with no extra allowances. I could not work, as Rob had severe asthma (there were no inhalers then).

In 1970 I discovered I had ulcerative colitis. My doctor sent me to Macclesfield Hospital for tests at the clinic. We only have a small hospital in Congleton. After a few months, I was discharged, without having seen the consultant. I weighed just 5 stone and I never went into what they now call remission. I was very ill.

My GP was wonderful. He asked me if I would go to the London Middlesex Hospital. For the following two weeks I stayed at our local hospital. The only treatment was codeine phosphate (60 mg). I then travelled to Crewe railway station by ambulance, which is just 12 miles from my home. I will not ever forget that rail journey. My husband and sister were with me, and I was met at Euston station by an ambulance.

I stayed at the Middlesex for five months for treatment. You were not told what that was in 1970. I did not improve, so a colostomy was the next step (resting the colon, hoping that the ulcers would heal).

I had a terrible time at home with leaks and blood coming from the colostomy, feeling ill. Early in 1972, I was back again at the Middlesex for another operation. Even in 1972 there was no explanation about the operation. I was just told that I would not use a bag. I had two consultants: Mr Cameron for the pouch and Mr Slack for the rectum (a valve was not used at that early time).

Of course, I was terribly ill and it was a big operation. When I was a little stronger and the pouch had started working, this was the time I had to learn to use the catheter. Sister and the nurses did not know how to do it, so Mr Cameron, doctor and sister took me to the bathroom to learn how to empty the pouch. Thinking back, what surprises me was that I did it without being embarrassed. Probably, I did it more by luck than judgement.

The problem was how to get some sleep without using the catheter, so the doctor came at night to put the catheter in the pouch, packed it round with cotton wool to hold it in and then attached it to a urine bag! Very cosy that was, until I needed to spend a penny.

The nurse would not give me a bedpan, as I was getting up in the daytime, but insisted I got out of bed. I could not wait any longer, so out of bed I got. Calamity! Out came the catheter and what a mess there was on the floor! I can laugh about it now, but I was devastated at the time. Then the nurse shouted at me! I cried all the rest of the night, and the doctor came and packed me up again. I really wanted to go home.

This was Tuesday, and there were no visitors until Saturday. Mr Cameron was on holiday for a few days at home, but the doctor called him in the next morning to talk to me. I can understand how it looked to some of the nurses and patients: it was a first time operation, and I was having a lot of attention. Mr Cameron and the doctors were in every day, to see how I was progressing and of course it created a lot of interest amongst the other medical staff.

After 3 months, I came home again. In the following weeks, there were things to worry me but my doctor sorted it out for me. He was so good to me. He even went to London to ask Mr Cameron all about my operation. I was having a lot of leaks, which upset me. Two years later, I went back to London again for the valve to be fitted and stayed in six weeks.

I had just one checkup afterwards. Instead, Mr Cameron used to talk to me on my sister’s phone. I still had leaks, but did not use a bag. Mr Cameron left the Middlesex later in the year. My wonderful doctor retired 16 years ago. I am still with the same surgery (sorry, medical centre!). It is a two doctor practice, but they don’t know about pouches.

I asked, if anything went wrong with the pouch, which hospital I would be sent to. The lady doctor said Whythanshaw Manchester, which is not too far away from my home. I hope they have done a pouch there, because I feel very strongly about GPs who don’t know anything about pouches, have a patient with one but don’t bother to find out about it.

In the year coming up to 2000, I cannot say that things have improved for me, except for the arrival of the Red Lion Group. Since my doctor retired, I have no personal support. I can’t express in words what a help the Red Lion Group has been to me.

My pouch leaks when the time comes to cook or eat a meal. I could empty it before this time, but when I have eaten it leaks again. That would mean using the catheter 8 or 9 times a day. I take codeine phosphate (15 mg) at bedtime, which keeps me continent during the night. I can’t use them during the day as they make me too solid for the catheter to work.
Now I am nearly 86 years old, I do what is best for myself and use a Surgicare pouch. Although I have a flush stoma, the flange is fine, no leaks underneath it, so I use the catheter 4 or 5 times a day.

I live alone in a sheltered bungalow, and do my own housework and cooking. I can’t walk any distance because I now have osteoporosis in the spine, which is bent. I also have arthritis. My sister takes me to the shops but I push the trolley around and shop for myself. I am able to write, and have a very active mind.

I have never had a car. I have had two falls fracturing both shoulders but I still managed the catheter. The doctor calls me frail, but I don’t know about that!

During my illness, my husband went to work, shopped, did the housework and visited me on Saturdays. Robert sat A levels when he was 17 years old and went to Warwick University, where he stayed for just two weeks before coming home. He went to work in an Accounts office until he was 18, then went to do an honours degree in computing science as a day student at Stafford. I was in hospital most of this time.

Rob worked for ICL as a management consultant, and ten years ago the sales manager and he started a business of their own in Congleton, which has now done very well: they have floated the company and since bought a computing business in the USA, where they also have an office (as well as one in Denmark).

Things seem to have come full circle now. The mills where I used to work are now offices. They have been renovated, and the outsides are the same as they were all those years ago. Rob and Steve’s company have one floor. I have been in the mill and they have kept the stone walls like they were when I worked there back in 1928. Now, of course, it is fashionable!

Stories

My Story…by Judith Harris

In 1980, I had the first symptoms of UC, but it remained undiagnosed for the next three years, until I became very ill in Malta while on holiday. Back in England and after extensive tests, the cause of the trouble was revealed, much to my relief.

For the next five years, I remained well, with six monthly checkups and Asacol tablets. Throughout this time, I continued to work as a chef whilst attending my local hospital.

1988 saw the birth of our much longed for son. Unfortunately, when he was twenty months old, the UC came back with a vengeance, and over the next year my condition gradually deteriorated. I had steroid enemas, oral steroids and any other amount of drugs, all to no avail.

I now felt so ill that I begged the local hospital to operate on me, even if it meant having an ileostomy. I was continually fobbed off with various excuses as to why I should not have an operation.

The pouch operation was mentioned during this time, and the local stoma nurse put me into contact with someone who had already undergone a pouch operation. He was a mine of information and told me about Mr Nicholls of St Marks, the surgeon who had performed his operation. I asked at my local hospital to be referred to St Marks, but was fobbed off yet again.

Fortunately, my husband had private health cover for the family with his job, so we made an appointment to see Mr Nicholls at his private practice. By this time, I was very ill. After I saw Mr Nicholls, I had the operation to remove my colon within the week. I was too ill to have the pouch made at the time of the first operation.

Over the next three months, I gradually gained weight, came off all the steroid treatments and learned to cope with a temporary ileostomy. I had the pouch fashioned by Mr Nicholls, again in a private hospital in London. Stage two was a very tough operation to get over. I felt very poorly for the next seven weeks until I had stage three (closure of ileostomy).

It took months to get over all the surgery. In the early years I had the same problems as everybody else: sore skin, frequent trips to the loo and bowel obstructions. I sometimes wondered if it had all been worth it.
There was no Red Lion Group then, and not a lot of information to be had. I had a couple of contacts I made myself with other pouch patients, and I collected all the information I could relating to my condition and operations.

Nine years further down the road, I am very glad that I have had the operation. The pouch has settled, I go to the loo five times in twenty-four hours and do not need any drugs at all. My one big problem however is that I have had seven small bowel obstructions due to adhesions. Thankfully, these have all settled in hospital without the need to be operated on again. My last one was two years ago and – fingers crossed – it will not happen again. I have had a few bouts of fairly mild pouchitis, which have cleared up with a course of Flagyl.

I now have an active life, walking, cycling and generally enjoying myself. My diet is not too restricted: I can eat most things, but usually have several small meals a day. I find herbal tea very soothing, especially camomile, peppermint and ginger (all made by Twinings). I even managed to work again as a chef, but at the moment I am not working.

One major drawback was the lack of counselling for my husband and son. A situation that I feel has still not been addressed enough.

I am sure that this is all very familiar to UC and pouch patients everywhere. I find that my best course of action is to keep optimistic and to keep my sense of humour when things go wrong. I try to relax as much as possible, as stress makes my bowel problems worse. Things do get better in time, and I now thank God that I am alive. I look at my son who is nearly twelve and remember the times when I did not think I would live to see his third birthday.

I am now an outpatient of St Marks where I go for annual checkups. This hospital specialising in bowel problems really is a “Centre of Excellence”.

Stories

A Friend in Need is a Friend Indeed

A friend in need is a friend indeed

Jean writes about how the Red Lion Group helped her find out more about the pouch operation.

In the month of June 1998 I had non-stop diarrhoea and bleeding from the rectum. After days of no appointment available at my doctor’s, I asked my daughter to drive me to the local hospital, where the duty doctor admitted me saying I had ulcerative colitis.

“What happens now?” I asked. He told me they would give me a course of different kinds of medication to see if they could improve my situation and monitor my bowel movements.

What a humiliating business that was, having to inform the nurse each time I had a bowel movement, which was – I might add – duly inspected, discussed at length and details then entered on my medical notes.

The weeks went by, my weight dropped to 7 stone, I had three blood transfusions, I was losing my hair, the pain was unbelievable. And there was no improvement in my ulcerative colitis.

I then had a visit to my “bed space” by five men in white coats informing me that they had tried all possible ways of treating the condition with medication, but to no avail. My only option, they told me, to ultimately save my life and render me free of pain, was surgery. This involved fitting a “bag”, until a reversal might be possible in a few months’ time when my health was much improved. I signed the relevant forms and the ileostomy was performed in August 1998.

Out of hospital, months later, I was much better, and on my second visit to my surgeon, I discussed with him the possibility of me having a pouch operation.

His advice was very wise: “You realise you will never be the same. There could be leakage to deal with and other minor problems. Go away, make enquiries, read about it, do your homework and then come back to see me.”

Help! I could not find anybody that had had the first op, let alone the second. I badgered my friends, read everything I could lay my hands on relating to it, made lots of phone calls, and was a general pest to one and all.

My stoma nurse sent me a magazine called Roar! I rang the Chairman’s number and spoke to him and his wife Morag, two extremely nice people (Ed: I promise I did not put this compliment in myself!), who were able to help with some of my questions. I have since joined the Red Lion Group as a member. My nurse also told me she had spoken to a Mr David Irving-James, also from the Red Lion Group, who would be willing to speak to me in connection with my operation.

I rang David, mentioned my nurse, and asked him if he knew of anyone who had had the pouch operation, as I was doing my homework prior to seeing my specialist. Well, David could not have been nicer. He sensed my unease, and by the time the conversation was almost at an end, I was made to feel like a long lost friend. He offered to visit me at my house, which he duly did 3 days later. He brought along with him a lady called Gill Hawkes, who had her pouch op in September last year.

Between them, they answered all my questions honestly, allayed my fears and provided some very relevant and useful information. David also advised me to get the best person for the operation if possible. I told him I was going to tell my consultant that I had done my homework and wanted to go to St Marks to have Professor Nicholls perform my operation. Both my visitors laughed because they too were under St Marks.

Before this article is published, I will have been to St Marks to see Professor Nicholls. I am not “out of the woods” yet. I may be rejected for the operation, but I do not wish to end on a negative note. If at the end of the day my stoma has to stay, then so be it. My stoma gave me back my life, and wonderful people like David and Gill are on the end of the telephone willing you to enjoy every aspect of it.

In 1999 David Irving-James wrote:

I am sure a number of you can relate to Jean’s story and I hope that this article brings home to readers the importance of having capable and willing members who are available within the regions to help those who are considering pouch surgery.

It is a big leap into the unknown, especially for someone whose stoma works very well: exchanging a known acceptable quality of life for an unknown quantity is not an easy decision to take, as many of us know.

The advice, support and views from an existing pouch owner are so valuable to a person facing a decision that will affect the rest of their life. Of course, it is important to remember that everyone’s experience is different, and no potential patient should be given the impression that what has happened to one pouch owner will happen to them. Nonetheless, the more people’s experience they hear, the better able they will be to make an informed decision.

I am pleased to say that Jean has now heard that her pouch operation will be going ahead soon, hopefully before the end of the year.

Stories

Airbags and Seatbelts

Among other things, Bill Shepherd tells us how doing what you enjoy can help keep you off the toilet!

Having recently had my pouch operation, I applied for a Radar key so that I could use the disabled toilets if necessary. I should point out that the key is quite large, and I find it useful to wear it on a tape around the neck.

As of yet, I have not had to use it, but on behalf of our group checked out a number of disabled toilets both locally in Hertfordshire and in North Wales. Only one failed to meet a very high standard.

I am normally employed as a lorry driver, and returned to work (“light duties”) in August. Between lorry and car, I cover in excess of 80,000 miles a year, so the Radar key will give me real peace of mind.

I am hoping it will be a bit like airbags and seatbelts: I don’t want to test them for their purpose, but if I need them, I shall be really glad to have them!

I am of the opinion that if you are doing something you enjoy, your bowels, bag or pouch are not very active. In the 28 years that I have had ulcerative colitis, I have only had to stop three times in an unplanned, urgent, embarrassing way. I believe this is because I enjoy my job.

I also have another true story that illustrates my theory perfectly. Many years ago, I had an old school friend who commuted into London to work each morning to a job he did not enjoy.

He also had IBS. His journey each morning was about 18 miles on the train, but every morning he had to get off the train at three or four stops to use the toilets (any pouch owning commuter will tell you that the toilets on a commuter train are just not suitable for our needs!).

However, in his spare time, he was a tennis umpire at Wimbledon and other tournaments. Amazingly, he was never affected by urgency while on the court. I think it was because he enjoyed what he was doing, so he never gave his IBS a thought.

Perhaps there are Red Lion Group members who have problems controlling their bowels, and so have given up favourite hobbies because they are afraid of needing the toilet at an inappropriate time. I hope my friend’s story will give you the confidence to go back to doing something you enjoy.

Finally, I do have one worry, which other members may share. I do not feel in control on public transport, with inadequate (or no) toilets on most trains or needing to get off and on buses then paying again to get on the next one. For this reason, I like the security of my car, holding my spare underwear, trousers, wipes and other toilet equipment (back to the airbags and seatbelts again).

My worry is toll roads, first tested in Leicester and now in Leeds and Edinburgh. I think we should look at this early on, while the tests are still going on, for some sort of help or exemption from payment. Maybe a disabled sticker with a “T” on it for parking near toilets, and only near toilets. After all, if Radar recognises incontinence as a disability, why not?

Stories

Is This a Bag I See Before Me?

Is this a bag I see before me?

Gillian Appleby has no doubts about whether the pouch operation was worth it.

I can’t imagine my life without my pouch now. I have a recurring dream that I have a bag again but it is not meant to be in use, it’s just in case (!) and it is over my scar. But even though I have my pouch, the bag keeps filling up. I have had other horrible dreams of having a stoma and it is overworking and somehow I forget/can’t put the bag on it. All this proves how much I really fear ever having a bag again.

I love the fact I can look and touch my stomach without feeling something plastic on it. When I had my bag, I once went out with a really nice bloke, and when we were in bed (he didn’t know I had a bag at first) he said “What’s that, plastic?” and I said “No it’s my bag”. And as you can imagine, the room had an eerie silence to it for quite awhile.

Another quite amusing story is when I was at a party talking to a girl who said she had Crohn’s disease when she was a child but it had since never returned ( I have always wondered if this is possible). I was telling her I had had my colon taken out, emphasising the fact that all of it was gone. She said to me, “Well that’s horrible, but you know some people have to have a bag.” I actually did reply “Yeah I know, I have got one”. She either didn’t hear ( I did say it rather quietly) or she chose not to. The funny thing is that why did she think I DIDN’T have a bag? Maybe she thought she’d be able to see it if I did have one.

I always felt a high class freak with a bag, even if people couldn’t see it. and also the social taboo of being a little bit different to other people. But I didn’t want to feel any of this because if people can’t accept you the way you are, then it’s them that has the problem. But then again, it’s you that has the bag.

Anyway, most of all I am very grateful indeed to the wonders of technology and to my very clever and skilful surgeon, Mr MacDonald, because I feel almost back to how I was before I ever had my colon out. I don’t feel such a freak and not having a bag stops me from thinking about the fact I don’t have a colon.

Stories

My Story…by Dorothy Simpson

Dorothy had her pouch surgery (in 1986 and 1987) at St Marks City Road, with both stages performed by Prof John Nicholls. She had had ulcerative colitis for more than 20 years.

I found the “Finding the Cause” article on the front page of Roar! (issue 14) most interesting because at the start of both my pregnancies I suffered from severe diarrhoea. After the first three months of my first pregnancy in 1963, this settled down with no further trouble.

However, with my second pregnancy, I had severe, constant diarrhoea which could not be studied or treated because of possible harm to the baby. The diarrhoea continued after the birth of my son in 1966, until I had lost a lot of weight and my GP became concerned.

Over the next 20 years, I suffered from pain and bleeding – all that goes with ulcerative colitis, plus erythema nodosum. I was a District Nursing Sister at that time (SRN), and had to retire from my work that I loved.

I had an ileo-rectal anastamosis in Sunderland, but continued to need frequent toileting. My two consultants got together to discuss this, and the upshot was that I was referred to St Marks.

I had surgery (a W pouch) performed there shortly afterwards, and eventually began to feel better. The worst part of the surgery – apart from the pain – was having an ileostomy. It made me feel degraded and depressed, and it leaked constantly. It was a thing I always said I’d never have!

About three years after my pouch surgery, I completed a 43 mile walk, non stop across the North Yorkshire Moors, the “Lyke Wake Walk”, and raised £100 for the Friends of St Marks. I completed it in 16 hours, and I’d do it again if I had the opportunity, even though I will be 61 at my next birthday.

I can’t compare my life now to what I was like before surgery. I could not walk as my joints were so swollen and painful. At one point, I was in a wheelchair. Now I am as active as when I was nursing. I’m having a few pouch problems at present, but these will be sorted.

I can honestly say that having a pouch was the best thing that happened to me during the worst years of my life.

Stories

My Successful Pouch Story

Much information about pouches describes problems that are experienced. Here’s an honest account about what I feel has been a very successful pouch.

I became seriously ill with Ulcerative Colitis in 1999 (in fact, I spent most of my 40th birthday in the toilet), and after just a few months, I was told that the colon would have to be removed. It was at an annual inspection of my remaining rectal stump that a pouch was recommended, and I was given all the information I needed to make a decision. I really feel I made the right choice, and will be always grateful for that option.

I was in hospital for just under 2 weeks for the first operation in February 2007. There was a small complication of an infection where I was sown up, but I was back at work full time in 5 weeks, and even cycling in 6 weeks. My second operation was in May of that year. The operation was on Tuesday, I was home on Thursday, and back to work on the following Monday! I was even running again within a few days! I do agree that in this respect, I was extremely lucky, and some others have issues which affect their recovery from surgery.

It took 3 or 4 months to settle down, to the point that each day was pretty much the same, without any surprises. In February 2008, about 9 months after the final surgery, it appeared to start to work as the large intestine would have, in that the output was better and more stool like than any output I had ever had from the stoma. Also around that time, I was able to “fart”, but only in a certain position. I had been told that I would be able to release air, but I wouldn’t “be able to knock any walls down”, as one pouch owner put it. I am always amazed at how the anal sphincter somehow can tell whether air can come out safely, or whether there would anything unwelcome with it.

Three years later, I feel no different from anyone else who never had the problem to start with. I eat everything (except curry, but that is just my personal taste). I do everything (all day cycling expedition, run a marathon, drive 240 mile journeys to Liverpool without stopping, swimming) without giving the pouch a thought. But according to the possible outcomes described by my surgeon, I am probably in the least successful category, according to the number of times I need the toilet per day. I go 6 to 9 times a day, and normally once at night. A lot of that is down to the amount I eat – which is a lot – so it must be a case of more in means more out! But I can hold on for at least an hour, normally 2 hours. Many times, I go to the toilet because I can, and it just makes me totally comfortable again. I have no pains at all; having stocked up on peppermint oil capsules for stomach aches I used to have with a stoma, I haven’t touched one in over a year.

I was warned about a number of things. For example,

That I would need to apply cream every time I go to the toilet. Well, maybe I do once every couple of months. Otherwise no skin soreness at all.
That I would have to be careful what I eat – I eat everything!
That I would be on Loperamide for the rest of my life – I take two tablets every couple of weeks, when needed!
That I would be deficient in some mineral or vitamin – no sign of that, I have loads of energy for life.

To have my body image back, without the unorthodox appendage that I had to conceal within my clothes, is such a relief. No more 10 – 20 minutes every morning to change the bag and clean up. No more bags blowing up like a football inside my trowsers. Feeling normal again. Priceless.

Andrew Millis
Red Lion Group Committee member

Three Ops and a Baby

Three Ops and a Baby

Kock Pouch Pioneer

Kock Pouch Pioneer

My Story…by Judith Harris

My Story…by Judith Harris

A Friend in Need is a Friend Indeed

A friend in need is a friend indeed

Airbags and Seatbelts

Airbags and Seatbelts

Is This a Bag I See Before Me?

Is this a bag I see before me?

My Story…by Dorothy Simpson

My Story…by Dorothy Simpson

My Successful Pouch Story

My Successful Pouch Story

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