Wednesday, 20 July 2011
amazing sponsership oportunity
I do not know who I thinkI am, and who might actually want to read this. I do sometimes suffer with delusions about my writing ,I think it may be the tramadol (so many side effects)butI took it on to myself to contact the marketing director of Coloplast and tell himwhat an amazing marketing opportunityI am with this blogg, like writing exclusively about his poo bags will suddenly improve sales. Its not as ifI have a mass of followers, hanging on my every word ,I have in fact 3(you knowwho you are)and one of those is myself.
he politely wrote back to say that, 'the firm were not looking at sponsoring presently, and good luck with the biopseys'.Not leaving it at that ,and now having full access to his personal e mail I have barraged him in stalker like proportiones with handy hints, tips and suggestions for his products, I just cant help myself, for instance why do all poo bags have to be light beige ? how about some denim effect ones or some pastel color? and why put instructions in every box , we got it the first time , and what about the environment? , don't get me started on the cheap scratchy wipes they expect us to use. and how dare they call the bags flesh color when IBD is not restricted to white people. I was only half joking whenI suggested the hollygarland round the bag pattern to be worn at Christmas, it would be a laugh.
he did say he would take my comments on bord but the different color bags' were not going to be a runner due to the low profit margins on prescription goods'.
I could not help notice the coloplast employee of the year won an all inclusive break insome south American countryfor themselves and a Friend all expenses paid . he has stopped answering my polite suggestions and has passed me on to the people in Denmark who do customer feedback.
I have taken ablue felt tip toa bag or two to fill my day.
urine therapy!!!
My 14 year old daughter Ella was 'looking at me funny' all night what is it dear ? i knew something was up.
'mum you are grossing me out'
Ella had been poking about in my special cupord under the sink , the cupbord which holds my various poo related paraphernalia sprays, wipes, disposalbags, pouches,enemas, otherstuff to make you go, stuff to stop you going , stuff to cover up smells , stuff to protect the stoma, a length of pipe and a turkey baster (don't ask what theyare for)
Ella had told me a story of a girl she knew who had a row with her mum, and as a pay back had dunked her mums tooth brush in an unflushed toilet full of urine, how terrible .
however my ex husband who looks a youthful 50 is actually 60 and was not adverse to having the old half of his own wee of a morning during the early 90's. He had read about it and some crazy English actress had also advocated this as therapy siting the bible as proof , there is a verse allegedlywhich says that the water from your own body, provides the cure for all your body's ills. Well, it all sounds a bit homeopathic to me.
getting back to the funny look, Ella emerged from the loo with the cupbord again , 'what the hell mum! what is this ? are you drinking your own piss? ' I had to think for a moment ifI was . Indeed, she was holdingin an acusing way ,a huge bottle of piss and it had my name on it , it was only when I read the small print thatI realised it was a bottle of lactalose, which did look suprising wee like.
This has got me thinking that if Ella does take the wee on the tooth brush route, she may be inadvertently curing me from my IBD.
I feel a row brewing.
Tuesday, 5 July 2011
some one has trod in s....
I had every shoe in the house lifted and fully inspected and sniffed at ,(by my youngest ,I don't do that sort of thing)some one had trod in dog shit , it was a definite.I only got an occasional whiff of it as you do on these occasions. It was bugging me all day and the nail brush had been sacrificed on all the shoes in the hall, but still it persisted, such is my trust in the poo bag that the thought did not cross my mind for a second thatI could be the guilty one . One thingI don't like about wearing a poo bag is thatI always sound likeI have a couple of empty crisp packs shoved down mywaist, there is a persistent russeling sound. So when a new russel free product was launchedI was first in the que to try it. It was bigger than my normal cap/pouch butI thought in order to get rid of this Autumn leavesstyle all year round russel thenI would give it a go , it seems the bag did not suit, and had opened at the top only a few millimeters, but enough for me to have launched the full scale investigation of 'who had brought the soiled shoe in to the home.I
don't think they read this blogg.I will not tell if you don't.
whats in this curry?
I am quite blase' about this whole poo bag wearing thing these days it doesn't represent much of a problem to me. It is the views and feelings of other people that can cause issues .
I am meticulous about using the little black plastic disposable bags that they give you to dispose of my 'pouches' after popping the contents in the looI put them in the plastic and tie up , only on one occasion i did not bother , why is it i can never get away with anything like this with out being discovered?
a Friend of mine came for lunch and as she is celiac (gluten intolerant)we always have an extended discussion about our mutual bowels what irritates what new products are out and other general issues of intestinal interest.I had made a chicken Currey using a Loyd gross man sauce ,I always check the labels for gluten whenthis friend visits.i don't know why but she did not seem to trust me on the gluten issue and before i could stop her she was rummaging through my dustbin to locate the label , no need to tell you , this was the lazy day where i had not bagged up.
Idon't know on what other feasible occasion a Friend would rummage elbow high through ones waste bin, so i did not know what to say when she held the used appliance aloft and asked ,'whats this? i saw here face change as it dawned on her what 'this was' nothing else was said of the matter, neither of us ate much Curry.
health update
I got the letter today from my consultant that they may not be able to reverse the stoma. the biopsy's taken were dodgy (not his words) and they are sending them off for more analysis. i could live the rest of my life with my bum hole at the front , but this hernia that is as big as a football is another matter.
it seems the secret diary will continue till I know more.
phantom pregnancy
this story was a moment captured of what my life was like before the operation.
Imagine my panic: I was five minutes into a sixteen mile drive to my
home and having reviously plotted out all the public toilets from
Eastbourne to Saltdean, I knew that the next public toilet abundant
with soft toilet paper was in Peacehaven.
I am afraid that terrible urge came on. This was a bad one, cold
sweats, and raging cramps with the feeling of utmost urgency; only
otherwise ever felt during the last phases of child birth.
I knew I wasn't going to make it, and so pulled in to the first pub I
saw. I would purchase a Britvic in compensation for using the
conveniences. It was 11.30 on a Sunday morning, so conceivable that
they may be open.
I tottered down the steep pub steps and tried the door, then hammered
on the door. No answer. I looked to the pub garden but it was
exposed to the road (yes that bad).
A large Waitrose was 200 metres behind the pub so I pigeon-stepped and
bottomed-squeezed my way there and conjured up a story of why I needed
the loo, as I recalled they had no public facilities.
I took a young check-out girl to one side, rubbed my protruding IBD
style belly and lied ldquo;I am heavily pregnant, please may I use your
toilet? rdquo
She could not have been more kind and led me through what felt like
another half mile to the back of the shop, to the staff lsquo;rest rooms. rsquo
The trousers were down in record time. The relief! The sound effects
were like a warm-up session of lsquo;the horns' of the London Philharmonic.
I will not go too much in to the smell, but there was a consequence of
watering eyes. I do remember making
several lsquoah' sounds during this lsquo;release'.
I was in there around 20 minutes and used what was left on the roll of
the entire supply of Charmin (you get to know! ).
In the subsequent lsquo;clean up operation' there were several flushes
involved, and I was dismayed to see no air freshener but just a
shrivelled up Glade gel thing in a plastic
pyramid which I shook about a bit, to no avail.
Can you imagine my horror as I stepped out, to see the check-out girl
had been waiting outside the door the entire time! Had I known, I
might have asked her to shove another handful of Charmin under the
door.
She had the back of her polyester sleeve held to her nose. I must have
looked shocked because she said, ldquo;sorry, we are not allowed to leave
members of the public here unattended, because of our bags hellip; rdquo
Her voice trailed of, as my face went the colour of a lsquo;coxes pippin rsquo
(I had noticed them lsquoon special' on the way in) ldquoHow long have you
got? rdquo; she enquired. ldquoHow long for what? rdquo; I answered slightly irritated
at her inferring I had used the facilities for
too long.
ldquoThe baby? rdquo
lsquo; lsquo;Oh yes rdquo;, I patted my sore tum in a maternal way. ldquo;It's due next
December rdquo; I lied and ran out. In a quick calculation I realised my
story made me a week gone. I bet that put the poor girl off motherhood
for life!
I have been back, and have tried to avoid the girl, but she always
manages to be my allocated packer. I am waiting for the day she asks
me if it was a boy or a girl.
I have a lsquo;Can't Wait' card now which should avoid this type of fiasco.
Sunday, 3 July 2011
stoma envy
I had a very pleasant lunch with a fellow ostomypatient recently we had been in hospital together over a year ago having various lengthsof our bowels removed , we had plenty to talk about ,and excitedly shared newsontoilet habits, pooconsistency, and bag preference,she the 2 piece, me the cap/ pouch. Atone point Ifurtivelyslippedone out of my handbag to show her how discreetit looks,a year on,Ireally have got to the point of not caring what other people think.It was as much as I could restrain my self from squirting the release spray ,whipping of the bag,andshowingher the stoma, (you show me yours ,and I will show you mine) my friend did comment that the ones in the stoma magazines always looked lsquo;quite neat 'whilst hers did stick out somewhat,and Icomplained that mine looked like a load of old chewed up bubble gum. We both laughed at the sweet little rose buds we had seen in the instruction manuals we both think they had to look far and wide for that one! I call it lsquo;stoma envy. rsquo
We both spoke about the impact the change in our body'shad on our personal relationships and we both had the same anxiety that men would be lsquo;put off', for both of us,this was not the case. My ostomy friend said the most pertinent thing over that lunch,that her partner lsquoloves'her stoma. Why is that I asked,? lsquo;Quite simple',she replied because lsquo;it had saved her life'.
I am thinking of giving my stoma a name afterthat,and Iam looking at it in a differentway,it saved my life too,and although we are not picking out curtains yet,we are defiantly getting along better.
I did have a bit of a strange moment in a MacDonald's last week when standing at the toilet as you do as a bag wearer , a woman would never have reason to stand facingthe bowl.Unless she was in the transition processof having another operation, whic his a differen tspecialist area to this magazine.
I was using the disabled toilet,as is my privilege these days,when a child slid the entire length of the door back on me to reveal aqueueof people gawping in, mid lsquo;wipe and stick' I really did not know the protocol in this event, so I apologised to every one and asked the child to slide the door back.
I am learning to laugh more; Idon't think I even blushed.
Iam going to give you some useful tips on what really helped me when I had my operation next time.
Thursday, 28 April 2011
3rd blogg, my life revolves around poo
Who made that smell?
It wasn't till my last leaving do that I realised what an impact the Crohns must have had on the team, we were all a bit tipsy, people had started to get tired emotional and sharing more feelings about fellow colleagues than they ought. One of the senior managers announced that she,' had just about enough of the dirty so and so who had come in to work every morning to do their morning ablutions in the staff toilet', she went on, lsquo;I don't know how the person involved can live with themselves, making lsquo;that smell' in the staff toilet every morning!' Well I am gone now, they have probably worked out that it was me. People don't realise the urgency that IBD causes, I just can't help it there is no option but to go. I was always the sort of girl who wouldn't use a friends toilet or a public conveneance and would always wait till I got home to go to number 2's.
In light of all this, I wrote a small poem and on visit back to work I stuck it inside the loo door, I hope it made a few of them smile. I really did spend a lot of time in that toilet with the broken extractor fan, scalding hot water and cracked Armitage Shanks.
Toilet fear
I apologise, in 8 hours I cannot contain,
I need to eliminate, at great cost and great pain.
I hope for a small one, I'll conceal the drop,
I'll mask the wind, cough over the plop.
.
I'll run the tap, I'll hum a song,
I promise to cover the nasty pong.
Where is Ruth now, where is she?
lsquo;She's in the loo , she's having a pee rsquo
Yes , lsquo;just having a pee' she lied through her teeth,
As she peers in the loo at what lies beneath.
A squirt of the freshener, poor little me,
Such an art to work with this IBD.
Perplexed I stand, I wait inside,
I sit on the loo, I hover and hide.
I flap my arm's, re flush the pan,
I re- run the tap I waft and I fan.
Where is Ruth?, lsquo;she is having a wee'.
I'm not, I'm out, I'm finished, it's free!!
In terms of the colonoscopy I don't have the biopsy results back but I am told there was mild inflammation, this was not the news I was hoping for, as based on this result I will find out if I can have the stoma reversed .
Next time lsquo;stoma envy 'why does your stoma looks like a rose bud? but mine looks like 6 chewed up bubble gums?, Also lets compare and contrast bag sizes, do I really have to wear a bag which a gold fish could be comfortably transported in?
amazing sponsership oportunity
I do not know who I thinkI am, and who might actually want to read this. I do sometimes suffer with delusions about my writing ,I think it may be the tramadol (so many side effects)butI took it on to myself to contact the marketing director of Coloplast and tell himwhat an amazing marketing opportunityI am with this blogg, like writing exclusively about his poo bags will suddenly improve sales. Its not as ifI have a mass of followers, hanging on my every word ,I have in fact 3(you knowwho you are)and one of those is myself.
he politely wrote back to say that, 'the firm were not looking at sponsoring presently, and good luck with the biopseys'.Not leaving it at that ,and now having full access to his personal e mail I have barraged him in stalker like proportiones with handy hints, tips and suggestions for his products, I just cant help myself, for instance why do all poo bags have to be light beige ? how about some denim effect ones or some pastel color? and why put instructions in every box , we got it the first time , and what about the environment? , don't get me started on the cheap scratchy wipes they expect us to use. and how dare they call the bags flesh color when IBD is not restricted to white people. I was only half joking whenI suggested the hollygarland round the bag pattern to be worn at Christmas, it would be a laugh.
he did say he would take my comments on bord but the different color bags' were not going to be a runner due to the low profit margins on prescription goods'.
I could not help notice the coloplast employee of the year won an all inclusive break insome south American countryfor themselves and a Friend all expenses paid . he has stopped answering my polite suggestions and has passed me on to the people in Denmark who do customer feedback.
I have taken ablue felt tip toa bag or two to fill my day.
urine therapy!!!
My 14 year old daughter Ella was 'looking at me funny' all night what is it dear ? i knew something was up.
'mum you are grossing me out'
Ella had been poking about in my special cupord under the sink , the cupbord which holds my various poo related paraphernalia sprays, wipes, disposalbags, pouches,enemas, otherstuff to make you go, stuff to stop you going , stuff to cover up smells , stuff to protect the stoma, a length of pipe and a turkey baster (don't ask what theyare for)
Ella had told me a story of a girl she knew who had a row with her mum, and as a pay back had dunked her mums tooth brush in an unflushed toilet full of urine, how terrible .
however my ex husband who looks a youthful 50 is actually 60 and was not adverse to having the old half of his own wee of a morning during the early 90's. He had read about it and some crazy English actress had also advocated this as therapy siting the bible as proof , there is a verse allegedlywhich says that the water from your own body, provides the cure for all your body's ills. Well, it all sounds a bit homeopathic to me.
getting back to the funny look, Ella emerged from the loo with the cupbord again , 'what the hell mum! what is this ? are you drinking your own piss? ' I had to think for a moment ifI was . Indeed, she was holdingin an acusing way ,a huge bottle of piss and it had my name on it , it was only when I read the small print thatI realised it was a bottle of lactalose, which did look suprising wee like.
This has got me thinking that if Ella does take the wee on the tooth brush route, she may be inadvertently curing me from my IBD.
I feel a row brewing.
Tuesday, 5 July 2011
some one has trod in s....
I had every shoe in the house lifted and fully inspected and sniffed at ,(by my youngest ,I don't do that sort of thing)some one had trod in dog shit , it was a definite.I only got an occasional whiff of it as you do on these occasions. It was bugging me all day and the nail brush had been sacrificed on all the shoes in the hall, but still it persisted, such is my trust in the poo bag that the thought did not cross my mind for a second thatI could be the guilty one . One thingI don't like about wearing a poo bag is thatI always sound likeI have a couple of empty crisp packs shoved down mywaist, there is a persistent russeling sound. So when a new russel free product was launchedI was first in the que to try it. It was bigger than my normal cap/pouch butI thought in order to get rid of this Autumn leavesstyle all year round russel thenI would give it a go , it seems the bag did not suit, and had opened at the top only a few millimeters, but enough for me to have launched the full scale investigation of 'who had brought the soiled shoe in to the home.I
don't think they read this blogg.I will not tell if you don't.
whats in this curry?
I am quite blase' about this whole poo bag wearing thing these days it doesn't represent much of a problem to me. It is the views and feelings of other people that can cause issues .
I am meticulous about using the little black plastic disposable bags that they give you to dispose of my 'pouches' after popping the contents in the looI put them in the plastic and tie up , only on one occasion i did not bother , why is it i can never get away with anything like this with out being discovered?
a Friend of mine came for lunch and as she is celiac (gluten intolerant)we always have an extended discussion about our mutual bowels what irritates what new products are out and other general issues of intestinal interest.I had made a chicken Currey using a Loyd gross man sauce ,I always check the labels for gluten whenthis friend visits.i don't know why but she did not seem to trust me on the gluten issue and before i could stop her she was rummaging through my dustbin to locate the label , no need to tell you , this was the lazy day where i had not bagged up.
Idon't know on what other feasible occasion a Friend would rummage elbow high through ones waste bin, so i did not know what to say when she held the used appliance aloft and asked ,'whats this? i saw here face change as it dawned on her what 'this was' nothing else was said of the matter, neither of us ate much Curry.
health update
I got the letter today from my consultant that they may not be able to reverse the stoma. the biopsy's taken were dodgy (not his words) and they are sending them off for more analysis. i could live the rest of my life with my bum hole at the front , but this hernia that is as big as a football is another matter.
it seems the secret diary will continue till I know more.
phantom pregnancy
this story was a moment captured of what my life was like before the operation.
Imagine my panic: I was five minutes into a sixteen mile drive to my
home and having reviously plotted out all the public toilets from
Eastbourne to Saltdean, I knew that the next public toilet abundant
with soft toilet paper was in Peacehaven.
I am afraid that terrible urge came on. This was a bad one, cold
sweats, and raging cramps with the feeling of utmost urgency; only
otherwise ever felt during the last phases of child birth.
I knew I wasn't going to make it, and so pulled in to the first pub I
saw. I would purchase a Britvic in compensation for using the
conveniences. It was 11.30 on a Sunday morning, so conceivable that
they may be open.
I tottered down the steep pub steps and tried the door, then hammered
on the door. No answer. I looked to the pub garden but it was
exposed to the road (yes that bad).
A large Waitrose was 200 metres behind the pub so I pigeon-stepped and
bottomed-squeezed my way there and conjured up a story of why I needed
the loo, as I recalled they had no public facilities.
I took a young check-out girl to one side, rubbed my protruding IBD
style belly and lied ldquo;I am heavily pregnant, please may I use your
toilet? rdquo
She could not have been more kind and led me through what felt like
another half mile to the back of the shop, to the staff lsquo;rest rooms. rsquo
The trousers were down in record time. The relief! The sound effects
were like a warm-up session of lsquo;the horns' of the London Philharmonic.
I will not go too much in to the smell, but there was a consequence of
watering eyes. I do remember making
several lsquoah' sounds during this lsquo;release'.
I was in there around 20 minutes and used what was left on the roll of
the entire supply of Charmin (you get to know! ).
In the subsequent lsquo;clean up operation' there were several flushes
involved, and I was dismayed to see no air freshener but just a
shrivelled up Glade gel thing in a plastic
pyramid which I shook about a bit, to no avail.
Can you imagine my horror as I stepped out, to see the check-out girl
had been waiting outside the door the entire time! Had I known, I
might have asked her to shove another handful of Charmin under the
door.
She had the back of her polyester sleeve held to her nose. I must have
looked shocked because she said, ldquo;sorry, we are not allowed to leave
members of the public here unattended, because of our bags hellip; rdquo
Her voice trailed of, as my face went the colour of a lsquo;coxes pippin rsquo
(I had noticed them lsquoon special' on the way in) ldquoHow long have you
got? rdquo; she enquired. ldquoHow long for what? rdquo; I answered slightly irritated
at her inferring I had used the facilities for
too long.
ldquoThe baby? rdquo
lsquo; lsquo;Oh yes rdquo;, I patted my sore tum in a maternal way. ldquo;It's due next
December rdquo; I lied and ran out. In a quick calculation I realised my
story made me a week gone. I bet that put the poor girl off motherhood
for life!
I have been back, and have tried to avoid the girl, but she always
manages to be my allocated packer. I am waiting for the day she asks
me if it was a boy or a girl.
I have a lsquo;Can't Wait' card now which should avoid this type of fiasco.
Sunday, 3 July 2011
stoma envy
I had a very pleasant lunch with a fellow ostomypatient recently we had been in hospital together over a year ago having various lengthsof our bowels removed , we had plenty to talk about ,and excitedly shared newsontoilet habits, pooconsistency, and bag preference,she the 2 piece, me the cap/ pouch. Atone point Ifurtivelyslippedone out of my handbag to show her how discreetit looks,a year on,Ireally have got to the point of not caring what other people think.It was as much as I could restrain my self from squirting the release spray ,whipping of the bag,andshowingher the stoma, (you show me yours ,and I will show you mine) my friend did comment that the ones in the stoma magazines always looked lsquo;quite neat 'whilst hers did stick out somewhat,and Icomplained that mine looked like a load of old chewed up bubble gum. We both laughed at the sweet little rose buds we had seen in the instruction manuals we both think they had to look far and wide for that one! I call it lsquo;stoma envy. rsquo
We both spoke about the impact the change in our body'shad on our personal relationships and we both had the same anxiety that men would be lsquo;put off', for both of us,this was not the case. My ostomy friend said the most pertinent thing over that lunch,that her partner lsquoloves'her stoma. Why is that I asked,? lsquo;Quite simple',she replied because lsquo;it had saved her life'.
I am thinking of giving my stoma a name afterthat,and Iam looking at it in a differentway,it saved my life too,and although we are not picking out curtains yet,we are defiantly getting along better.
I did have a bit of a strange moment in a MacDonald's last week when standing at the toilet as you do as a bag wearer , a woman would never have reason to stand facingthe bowl.Unless she was in the transition processof having another operation, whic his a differen tspecialist area to this magazine.
I was using the disabled toilet,as is my privilege these days,when a child slid the entire length of the door back on me to reveal aqueueof people gawping in, mid lsquo;wipe and stick' I really did not know the protocol in this event, so I apologised to every one and asked the child to slide the door back.
I am learning to laugh more; Idon't think I even blushed.
Iam going to give you some useful tips on what really helped me when I had my operation next time.
Thursday, 28 April 2011
3rd blogg, my life revolves around poo
Who made that smell?
It wasn't till my last leaving do that I realised what an impact the Crohns must have had on the team, we were all a bit tipsy, people had started to get tired emotional and sharing more feelings about fellow colleagues than they ought. One of the senior managers announced that she,' had just about enough of the dirty so and so who had come in to work every morning to do their morning ablutions in the staff toilet', she went on, lsquo;I don't know how the person involved can live with themselves, making lsquo;that smell' in the staff toilet every morning!' Well I am gone now, they have probably worked out that it was me. People don't realise the urgency that IBD causes, I just can't help it there is no option but to go. I was always the sort of girl who wouldn't use a friends toilet or a public conveneance and would always wait till I got home to go to number 2's.
In light of all this, I wrote a small poem and on visit back to work I stuck it inside the loo door, I hope it made a few of them smile. I really did spend a lot of time in that toilet with the broken extractor fan, scalding hot water and cracked Armitage Shanks.
Toilet fear
I apologise, in 8 hours I cannot contain,
I need to eliminate, at great cost and great pain.
I hope for a small one, I'll conceal the drop,
I'll mask the wind, cough over the plop.
.
I'll run the tap, I'll hum a song,
I promise to cover the nasty pong.
Where is Ruth now, where is she?
lsquo;She's in the loo , she's having a pee rsquo
Yes , lsquo;just having a pee' she lied through her teeth,
As she peers in the loo at what lies beneath.
A squirt of the freshener, poor little me,
Such an art to work with this IBD.
Perplexed I stand, I wait inside,
I sit on the loo, I hover and hide.
I flap my arm's, re flush the pan,
I re- run the tap I waft and I fan.
Where is Ruth?, lsquo;she is having a wee'.
I'm not, I'm out, I'm finished, it's free!!
In terms of the colonoscopy I don't have the biopsy results back but I am told there was mild inflammation, this was not the news I was hoping for, as based on this result I will find out if I can have the stoma reversed .
Next time lsquo;stoma envy 'why does your stoma looks like a rose bud? but mine looks like 6 chewed up bubble gums?, Also lets compare and contrast bag sizes, do I really have to wear a bag which a gold fish could be comfortably transported in?
