8. A Sad Farewell

Period: March 2011

And so, after singing along to the TV Commercial for weeks, I departed my favourite capital city in the world, cruising on the Interislander, sailing to the other side. I will forever regret leaving Wellington so soon, however, as much as I refused to acknowledge it at the time, my concerns over my health motivated me to get moving. On an unconscious level, I wanted to see and do as much as possible just in case I fell really ill and had to go back to England prematurely. When I'd arrived in Wellington back in December, I was on a massive high because I had recovered from surgery and I was feeling better than I had in months. Since that time, my symptoms had slowly worsened, in such small increments that it I had been able to pretend it wasn't happening.

As we disembarked the ferry in Picton on a dreary afternoon, I was more nervous than excited. As previously noted I am extremely adept at self-denial and I tried to be optimistic, but in the back of my mind it was impossible to ignore the permanent worry that festered there. With the symptoms slowly worsening I began to finally recognise that it was not normal, but if anything this just made me try even harder to ignore it! Thinking about it now, I am both embarrassed and impressed by my capacity for self-denial =)

We decided to spend a couple of weeks sightseeing, after which we would decide where to base ourselves for a few months. During our walking and camping trip to the beautiful and blissfully remote Abel Tasman, my tender relationship with a long-drop really started to blossom. I will say one thing for NZ, they do try to make the outdoors as comfortable and accessible as possible while maintaining it's remote charm - very Crohn's friendly! It makes me so sad to think how I would struggle to complete those same walks these days. I could definitely do it, I just wouldn't enjoy it as much because I would be so exhausted!

1. Crohn's: Onset of Symptoms

Period: October 2009 - December 2010

In 2009 I started my final year of uni. I was completing my dissertation, working part-time and intent on following my dream of backpacking. I had been experiencing regular diarrhoea for many months, together with frequent abdominal cramps since my mid-teens, but I always blamed it on my lifestyle (a diet rich in booze, burgers and chocolate is enough to upset even a healthy stomach!). However, in Autumn 2009, aged 21, things took a turn for the worst and I remember the first severe episode vividly, which is strange as at the time I just attributed it to food poisoning.

I had spent the weekend in my home town celebrating (i.e. getting drunk) with some friends who were leaving to go travelling in New Zealand together, where I intended to join them the following year. Having started weekly binge drinking at a very early age, I had developed a mild intolerance towards alcohol a couple of years previously. By age 21, I could generally expect to vomit if I had more than a couple of drinks, but I still chanced it fairly often and just endured the inevitable. I had also spent the weekend seriously overindulging in food and on the drive back to uni I experienced increasingly severe abdominal cramps. By the end of  the 250 mile journey I was in absolute agony and struggling to concentrate on the road. By the time I went to get out of the car I could barely stand up. Leaving everything in car I crawled straight to bed, where I spent the next 36-hours in serious pain, vomiting and pooping like mad. I tried not to disturb my housemates, but even in my agony I was completely embarrassed by the explosive sounds and nostril-burning smell!

When I started to improve my body was completely drained and it took a few weeks to feel remotely normal again. In retrospect, my normal was not healthy, but I just blamed that on myself for not living the perfect lifestyle. I attributed the episode to food poisoning or my overindulgence at the weekend, however, when the same thing happened a further two times in as many months, my boyfriend managed to convince me to make a doctors appointment.Given the severity of the symptoms a lot of people think I was mad to be reluctant to seek medical help. All I can say is, self-denial is an extremely powerful weapon and it's something I inherited from my Grandma - she in her 80's and struggles to walk unaided, but she still stubbornly tells us she doesn't feel old and tries to refuse help! There were however two key reasons for my resistance;

1. I was going backpacking and nothing was going to jeopardise that.

2. My brother has Ulcerative Colitis (at the time we understood it to be Crohn's). I knew very little of the disease, except that it could come back at any time and that my brother had been relatively lucky. After one severe episode requiring hospitalisation and steroids, he has been fine on an anti-inflammatory for over 10-years. Nevertheless, I knew that it was a life-long condition and I didn't want it. I therefore convinced myself it was probably just IBS and blamed myself for eating too much rubbish and drinking too much alcohol.

By the time I got round to making the doctors appointment I had been feeling well again for over a week and did not want to occupy an urgent slot on the day, so my appointment was scheduled for two weeks ahead. Having been "fine" in the intervening period I then cancelled the appointment. Yes, in retrospect I am aware of how ridiculous this may seem, but unfortunately that is the kind of idiot I am! Given the severity of my symptoms at times, even I am now totally perplexed as to why I did not go to A&E, but I clearly remember thinking "you don't want to make a fuss, think how embarrassed you will be if there's nothing really wrong with you!". That kind of sums me up - I can talk about poop all day long without embarrassment, but someone thinking I am a drama queen and my face is redder than Luis Suarez's fangs.

Classic British Patient