Yesterday I spent the day in the Surgical Assessment Unit (SAU) at the hospital
I originally posted this on Facebook and Instagram but, since it was long, decided it deserved its own post here. So here goes:
OK, you think you have had a bad day but have you had a surgeon checking out your arsehole asking “have you put something on this? No? Oh so this is the discharge then?” kind of bad day…
At this point I feel like it is vitally important that I fill you in (not a euphemism) on the events that lead up to said surgeon, arsehole, encounter. Buckle up, it’s a thrill a fucking minute.
Regular readers will no doubt be aware that I have Crohn’s Disease
I was diagnosed 11 years ago. I have had a fair few operations, bowel resection, intensive care, stomas, stoma reversals and so on and so forth. This probably sounds a bit flippant and I do not want to belittle anyone’s experience of chronic illness, it indeed sucks arse (pun intended) but frankly this is my life. In any case. 5 or 6 years ago I had a very painful arse and after a bit of to-ing and fro-ing I was diagnosed with fistulating Crohn’s disease (with the empahsis on FIST because it feels like someone is fisting your colon, no lie). Basically it’s an internal abscess that, if you are lucky, works it’s way to the outside, usually your arse or (if you have one) your vag. Sadly it leaves a channel that can close up so you go through an abscess, burst, abscess, cycle. If you are REALLY lucky, like me, it branches off all over the shop , I have an arsecheek like an old oak tree. If you are SUPER lucky you might get more than one. Yaye.
There are a few treatments for anal fistulas
One is a lay open where it is cut right open (obviously under general anesthetic) then it is “packed”, stuffed with wadding so it heals slowly from the inside out. I had that. The stuffing part is agony. Having a shit is agony. It didn’t work. Would not recommend – if you need to have it done or are waiting for it I am sorry, just swig Oramorph like it’s going out of fashion prior to the stuffing, you’ll be seeing badgers climbing the walls which takes your mind off the pain a bit.
One of the other treatments is a Seton stitch. Basically a loop that goes through the channel to keep it open and draining. I have one of them, it now looks like I need another. I’ll be like the fucking Bayeux Tapestry soon.
So, back to todays little escapade. I am making light of this but I will tell you now that I was in so much pain that I was crying in the hospital.
This morning I emailed my IBD team as I had what I thought was a pile
A very painful pile, well, it turns out it was not a pile, it was another abscess as it burst last night. That was nice after the Halloween shenanigans. Now, you would think that it bursting would give some relief but no, the pain was much worse today so my IBD team asked me to go to the Surgical Assessment Unit to be checked out. Anyone who has been to SAU knows that this is not a quick visit and it was not my first rodeo, or second, or third. Yeah, I’ve been in SAU a LOT. I drove myself to hospital cos I am a trouper, and I’m used to it, and people have to work blah blah. Had my bloods taken and waited.
Cutting a long, boring, story short I saw a surgeon who examined said arse
He gets a nurse. I go behind the curtain. The bed is really high. I have my leggings round my knees and I am trying to heave myself up (I am not short by any stretch of the imagination) and sort of wriggling my bum backwards onto the bed, which isn’t working and is a tad hurty, luckily a nurse came in and said “that bed’s a bit high” and put it down a touch. I get on the bed, lie on my side and draw my knees up to my chest – I know the drill. The surgeon comes in asking if there is any jelly available (won’t need that, mate), something about gloves and then he dives in. He has a little poke about, I wince, draw in breath, cry a bit he says “Oh yes I can see another hole” no word of a lie, then makes the discharge remark. The discharge is pus btw, in case you were wondering. Then he finishes violating me and I can “get dressed” which is basically me pulling up my pants and leggings and doing that little wriggle you do to get your leggings ALL the way up and untwist them.
Him: “What I would like to do is start you on antibiotics (great) and come back for an operation (not great)”Me: “When?”Him: “Tomorrow”Me: “Absolutely fucking not” I lie. I did not say that. I burst into tears.Him: “Do you have something to do tomorrow”Me: “Not have an operation for a start” I also did not say that. I sobbed something about having an autistic child and needing to make sure he is OK and soforth.
Eventually we compromised on me having antibiotics for a week and seeing if they work, if not or it gets worse I will go back. I suspect I am putting off the inevitable but you need to lead up to these things, don’t you? The surgeon was really rather lovely and understanding. He said that as it is not urgent, life and death, that he was happy for me to try antibiotics first as it’s a case of doing what’s best for the patient and their family.
