21. Hopelessness

Period: March 2013 - May 2013

In February, I took the decision to change jobs. In my current position, unpredictable absences were a major inconvenience for my colleagues and, although they had been fantastically supportive throughout everything, I just wanted to be without the guilt of letting my team down. Although I enjoyed my job, when I went back after being off sick for a couple of months I permanently felt like I needed to prove myself to them. It was all in my head of course, but that didn't make it any easier. A previous employer was happy to take me back on and although the job was a little more physically demanding, unpredictable absences were more manageable.

Unfortunately, a few days before I was due to start, I ended up back in hospital again fearing for my life. Back on the steroids for the third time in a year, I hit rock bottom. Just 12-months earlier I had still been determined to get well and eventually go off travelling again, but throughout that time I had suffered disappointment after disappointment as I struggled first to obtain the correct diagnosis and then to get the doctors to take me seriously. Whilst in hospital (and back on steroids for the third time in 12 months) the specialist IBD nurse informed me that I would be starting Infliximab infusions the following week, but I could not allow myself to even dare to hope that it would work.  If Infliximab proved ineffective, surgery would be the only option, but I already knew full well that surgery would not guarantee a Crohn's-free life. Although I couldn't see it at the time, I was already suffering from depression and I couldn't find any hope left to believe that I would return to a "normal" life.

Starting the Infliximab infusions felt like defeat in itself. If they did work, at around £12,000 a year per patient according to the NICE guidelines, I would be tied to the NHS for at least a couple of years, which meant letting go of the backpacking dream. I found it very difficult to accept how much my life had changed when I had expected to be making the most of my early twenties and the freedom that comes with it. After being discharged from hospital I went to the GP surgery to obtain my prescriptions:

40mg Prednisolone daily

100mg Azathioprine daily

Tramadol when required

Fortisip x3 per day
Lactulose 15ml x3 per day (all the other medication had made me go from severe diarrhoea to severe constipation!)

When the GP read my hospital notes, he commented on how difficult it must have been. I would like to say I uncharacteristically burst in to tears, but by this time spontaneous blubbering was becoming a pretty common occurrence! I declined anti-depressants. I felt like I had been defeated by the Crohn's and I could at least beat the blues without medication! Plus I worried about my poor little liver already working overtime to process all the Crohn's medication. I did accept a referral to a counsellor - having distanced myself from the world for so long I recognised it would be helpful to have someone to talk to, even if I dreaded the thought of it.

Rather than rushing back to work, I decided to take my time to try and recover properly. The steroids meant I was back to sleeping just 3-5 hours a night, but I didn't seem to have the energy or euphoria I experienced previously. Not only that, but because of all the medication I was taking, I had gone from pooping all the time to not pooping at all. After a fortnight period in which I had only pooped once (you are right to wince), I went to the GP for something a little stronger than Lactulose. When there was still no let-up after a further 4-days, I took matters in to my own hands. The doctor had prescribed me sachets to take three times a day, but I woke up one morning and decided to drink one every hour until I pooped! I don't at all recommend taking matters in to your own hands like this, but it worked like a charm.