Righto, I’m so late with this it’s untrue. You’d think I’d been kidnapped or fallen down a well or something, but I hadn’t, it’s just been a bit mental and stuff. More on that another time.
I thought I should just write a little update on my last appointment at Guy’s hospital – the appointment I had to fight so hard to get, remember? Well, when you have inflammatory bowel disease and ankylosing spondylitis and all that kind of stuff, you don’t very often get actual good news. Nobody’s come up with a cure yet (lazy scientists!) so until that day comes, it’s never going to be good news. What it might be (aside from dreadful news) is OK news, and OK news can go from ‘just OK’ to ‘actually brilliantly OK’ depending on a) how it’s delivered and b) who delivers it.
On this occasion Gautier and I were shown into the office of a consultant we’d not met before. Alarm bells rang as I thought, ‘Please don’t let me have to go over my entire IBD history again, ugh’ but they soon ground to a halt when said consultant smiled and said, ‘I can see you’ve had a bit of a crap time with your health, Juliette. Let’s see what we can do to make things better.’
Seriously, that’s a good start. He’d not only read my notes (something which NEVER happens at the hospital in Brighton; they always ask me about my stoma, for a start, which I haven’t even had for 12 years), but he understood that my health issues are not only complex but that the level of care I’ve received up until now hasn’t been – how can I put it? – up to scratch. I immediately let my guard down and let him do his stuff. It turns out that my usual consultant had decided that a second opinion would be valuable in assessing my course of treatment, and at the end of a nice discussion about it all, in popped said other consultant. They both agreed they were ‘on the same page’ with it all and that whilst I was not in any pain from what might or might not be Crohn’s disease, it’d be best to treat the inflammation and ulceration gently rather than shove steroids or other nasties down my throat (which is what the advice was from Brighton, along with telling me not to eat food for two months). Yes, that. Slow clap, etc.
So, I’m back on the VSL#3 pro-biotic stuff which tastes and smells like baby sick (actually, I’ve never tasted baby sick, other than when I was a baby being sick, but I think it’s so horrible that I remember what it tastes like. As will my poor dad, for I was once violently sick in his beard late one evening in 1972. He shaved it off soon after that. Can’t say I blame him.
Anyway, I don’t care how rank it is, it’s good for me. The ulceration hasn’t got any worse during the last six months, so they’re going to have another look at my innards in spring to determine whether or not I need to switch anti-TNF therapies to one more suited to treat IBD than ankylosing spondylitis. It’s a massive deal, even the idea of switching biologics because the one I’ve been on for the past decade works really well for my pain. I came off it last summer and endured the worst hell imaginable before going back on it as fast as I could.
When we got home I sent the new consultant a copy of my book and a thank you card with a shark on it, along with a letter explaining that since being under the care of Guy’s I’ve actually felt respected for the first time. I’m spoken to as though I have a brain and knowledge of my own diseases, which I do. We had an actual discussion, rather than what’s always happened in the past – a consultant looking bored the minute I sit down, who hasn’t even read my notes, who has a ‘one disease fits all’ attitude to treatment. They never acknowledge that I also have AS, they just seem to read from a sheet of paper which says ‘IBD – stop eating, take steroids, go away’. So the upshot of it is that my innards aren’t very well, but we’re treading gently. If the ulceration progresses, I’ll need to do something drastic, but right now I’m just thankful that after 14 years of feeling as though I’m fighting not just these diseases but also the medical profession, I’ve finally got not just one but two consultants who genuinely seem bothered about whether or not I live or die, and that’s what makes OK news into great news.