“Death smiles at us all. All a man can do is smile back.”

Tomorrow, “This is where we hold them! This is where we fight! This is where they die!”

Tomorrow my large intestines will pay for nearly five years of hell they have caused me. I will arrive at the Royal London Hospital for surgery at 7am. I could be in theatre as early as 8am. I will either be having part of or all of my large intestine removed and ending up with some form of ostomy, which will with 99% certainty be for life. It all depends on what the surgeons find when they open me up. Initially they are going to start the operation laparoscopically (aka keyhole) however they may have to open me up depending on what they find.

On one hand I can’t wait. It will be the beginning of the rest of my life. I should be able to do things again that I haven’t done in years that I used to take for granted like getting on a tube and going out with mates without constantly worrying where the nearest toilet is. However I have inane ridiculous fears that I know the chances of bad things happening are minimal, but my brain has decided to push them front and centre and concrete, weld and superglue into place. Of course the biggest fear is dying, however that’s probably the least likely to happen. More likely risks are post op infections, having a car crash on the way there or choking on lucozade in the next 20 minutes. I suppose what scares me the most is the total lack of control I have over the whole thing. I cannot do anything other than turn up on time, and hope for the best. I have to put my life in the hands of total strangers, and trust them to get me through it. As long as it’s not like Holby city where they are having a domestic over my open abdomen then I’m happy. I think this quite from gladiator shows why I’m frustrated ” Ultimately, we’re all dead men. Sadly, we cannot choose how but, what we can decide is how we meet that end, in order that we are remembered, as men.” I cannot do anything about this. As soon as that anaesthetic goes in, I’m relying solely on machines and strangers to keep me alive.

Sorry but I’m going get morbid, sometimes it helps me to rationalise it all. I can only hope that the majority of the time I have had a positive impact on people’s’ lives and that’s how I would want to be remembered. More gladiator, ” What we do in life echoes in eternity.” I can only hope I have had a positive impact and if I hadn’t, well fuck you because you probably pissed me off 😛 Thing is though, in the grand scheme of society I don’t feel like I have given much back because I haven’t had the opportunity because of this fucking illness. So hopefully as of tomorrow I can start.

I’m on a serious Gladiator thing tonight, watched it last night and I love that film. “Three weeks from now……..Imagine where you will be, and it will be so. Hold the line! Stay with me! If you find yourself alone, riding in the green fields with the sun on your face, do not be troubled. For you are in Elysium, and you’re already dead!” Amen to that.

It did freak me out earlier when I got out of the shower and looked in a full length mirror. I’m not a particularly vain person at all. I will leave the house looking like a tramp regularly if I feel like it. However, I realised I am never going to look like that again in less than 12 hours time. In fact, it reduced me to hysterical tears for about 20 minutes. I know that it’s a new beginning for me though. I’l get over it.

Last time i will ever look like that.

If people are looking to visit check my facebook, I’m going to put a large status up with all the details you need to come see me. I’m not gonna have any visitors till Monday unless I am very well and on my feet etc. I’ll put my old dears phone number up so just ring her for any information you want.

“Ready your breakfast and eat hearty… For tonight, we dine in hell!” aka the royal London. (alrite the last and first were 300)

“Man Down!” The call to man up.

I only managed to catch the last twenty minutes of the new series of “Our War” on BBC3, but that twenty minutes was packed with more emotion than most feature length films. To watch the extraordinary lengths soldiers will go to, to save the life of another soldier. I recommend anyone watch it on BBC iplayer or the next episode is next week. Luckily I caught it replayed later on and it was gripping viewing. You see how soldiers will go above and beyond the call of duty for their mates and not hesitate to put themselves in harm’s way.

For example, flying a Chinook helicopter in zero visibility, following an apache using Infra-red cameras to guide the way, in a sandstorm to pick up a wounded soldier who had stepped on an IED. Where most pilots would have refused to fly, these pilots didn’t because they knew that they were his only hope of survival. They managed to evacuate Captain Griffiths back to Camp Bastion and then back to Birmingham where he was with his family and they could speak to him. Unfortunately Captain Griffiths died twelve days later from his wounds, but his parents couldn’t express their gratitude enough to the men and women who helped to evacuate him so they could have those twelve days with him.

Amazing program, kind of puts my problems in perspective. I’ve got a new date for my operation, the 31st of August. It’s starting to all get very real and soon again. Although I do have to go in 2 days before and have an echocardiogram, which is basically and ultrasound of my heart due to the fact my resting heart rate is 110. Now I assume they would only cancel my op if there was something like a massive gaping hole in my heart, which let’s face it, I probably wouldn’t be sitting here now if that was the case. So yes life changing operation soon, scary times. I’m sure they won’t cancel it again, if they do I will kick off majorly and I’m normally very laid back when it comes to fuck ups, especially in the NHS but to cancel it twice would take the piss a little.

All I am doing at the moment is concentrating on what I am going to be able to do after this op and just ignoring all the shit bits I’m going have to deal with on the way i.e. a tube up the cock, (can you tell that one realllly bothers me?) because when I come out the other side life is going to be fucking mint. I am going to do loads of shit I haven’t been able to do for years like get a proper fucking job, get on a tube, go camping, all sorts. Simple things I used to take for granted. A good friend of mine has decided that he’s going to sign me up for a tough mudder in janurary, have a google, it’s like a 10km obstacle course on steroids with horrendous obstacles ranging from underwater tunnels to running through some form of electrified corridor. So I have an actual target to aim at being fit for. Well we shall see how it goes, let’s get the op out the way first eh.

Lewis Moody Fighting the corner!

Lewis Moody Fighting the corner!

Lewis moody talks about his battle with IBD

 

One of those days.

I am now so fed up with sitting at home doing nothing. It is fucking depressing. I feel like such a fucking waster. My life is on hold till this fucking operation happens and I still haven’t heard anything. On the other hand, deep inside, I don’t even want this fucking operation, but I would rather just get it done with and out the way so I can get on with my fucking life. I am sick of this fucking illness and everything that goes with it. Sorry I’m just having one of those days. I’ve been on the verge of tears most of today for no apparent reason. It doels not help I’ve run out of drugs again, but that’s my own fault. To be honest I couldn’t really give a fuck about them. Sick of having to take tablets everyday and inject every week. Doing all of that and more for 4 years or so and I’m still going to have to have surgery. Excellent. Might just go and drink myself into oblivion. Meh.

Low blow from the NHS

As you may or may not be aware, to an extent I seem to have dropped off the face of the earth in regards to writing my blog. I have had this page open for days trying to write it but for some reason I cant.

So basically, after totally mentally preparing myself for this impending quite serious op I get a phone call no less than 48 hours before I am due to go in, informing me not to attend on Saturday and my operation is cancelled. EXCELLENT………do you detect a mint fresh hint of sarcasm? Basically I was put on a day surgery list not an inpatient list, the hospital realized this, and said that someone had made an error and put me on the incorrect list. When I asked if they had any idea of when I would now be looking at for surgery, they replied that basically they didn’t have a clue as I would have to be put on the correct list, and in effect start from scratch. Excellent.

I was so ready for that operation, for any outcome good or bad and then at the last second to have the rug pulled from under your feet and plunged back into uncertainty is pretty disheartening and shit quite frankly.

So shit in fact that I have had this document open for nearly a 2 weeks, unable to finish it because I am doing everything I can including drinking copious amounts of alcohol to ignore the fact that this has happened and I guess when I look at this I have no choice but to deal with that fact. On one hand, I’m so relieved that I haven’t had to have this operation. It’s a serious game changer, hopefully for the positive but I won’t be the same person I used to be and the big bit I worry about is how I’m going to see myself every day in a mirror, dealing with my self-image, and having scars, a bag, being comfortable around other people with it. To say I am shitting bricks is putting it mildly, I am terrified, honestly sometimes I think about it and the fear is so great that my stomach goes, like the split second after the rollercoaster takes that first massive drop. I also feel bad writing this, like I will offend people who have already had the op and are on the other side of the hill. I suppose really what it comes down to, is I’m scared how people will react, especially in different situations. I am sure that 99% of people will always react positively but there is always that cuntish 1% that will deal with it poorly. I mean don’t get me wrong, everyone is entitled to their own opinions but sometimes maybe just dealing with something sensitively would make a whole world of difference.

Yyou know what, there will be people that can’t deal with it and find it disgusting or whatever but at least most people will be fucking polite about it. At the end of the day I’m having this operation to save my fucking life! If I don’t have it, then at some point I WILL DIE. You know what, fuck it, I don’t care. I have bigger fucking problems than worrying about what other people’s opinions are.

On the other hand, I just want it over and done with so I can go back to work and have an income again, and go out without constantly worrying where the fucking nearest toilets are. I mean at one point I was practically looking forward to it! So we are now knocking on for 2 weeks since I was meant to have it done and I have heard absolutely fuck all from the hospital. The biggest thing I hate is just this constant uncertainty and sitting in limbo waiting for a phone call that doesn’t appear to be coming any time soon . Now that I’ve been placed back into limbo I am nowhere near as mentally ready for it as I was and I’m going to have to go through the whole fucking process of psyching myself up again.

I’ve got a few scalpel blades, needles and thread, etc lying about from my design work, surely I could give it a crack, love a bit of home surgery 😛

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