Although I went for a walk yesterday to try and ease the ache in the small of my back, it has continued; even overnight.
I knew it was highly unlikely to be related to the poo transplants, but had to ask J just to be sure (poor J – I wonder if she’s starting to think “How are things at home?”!)
J confirmed that there is no reason that the treatment would be causing the ache. I had a sneaking concern that it could somehow be related to an injury/perforation of the bowel (one of the risks of the procedure), but J quickly explained that the pain involved in a perforation would be immediate, and much more severe than I was reporting.
So, I’ll just keep up the walking – hopefully that will help.
While J was performing today’s enema, I had a few more questions:
Q: So, I’m now half way through the treatment. When can I expect some results?
A: Approx 50% of patients on the 2 week enema course report results in the second week (the remainder experience improvement after the second week, or not at all)
The most common improvements are:
It should be noted that improvements can be intermittent – it’s not until 8 weeks post-treatment that results can be relied on for consistency.
Q: I won’t be having enemas over the weekend – will that affect me in any way?
A: No - the good bacteria that’s been donated will continue to attack the evil stuff 24/7.
Q: How many poo transplant patients does the hospital treat?
A: It varies – usually 2-5 per day. Hundreds have been treated over the years.
Before leaving me to my massage, J asked me what my plans were for the weekend. I don’t really have any; I just want to spend some more time resting. I’m a bit worried that other patients feel well enough to actually have weekend plans – I don’t seem to be going as well as I’d hoped, but I’m trying not to stress over it too much. I'm also keeping in mind that my exhaustion started before the treatment, so its like comparing apples with oranges.
Anyway, then it was massage time. You’d think the worst part about the whole poo transplant enema would be having the tube inserted into my bum, but actually, I’m starting to find that it’s the ‘post-enema’ massage.
The action is very similar to the motions pregnant women make when lovingly rubbing their bellies, so I feel a bit pathetic and barren, carefully massaging someone else’s poo around my bowel, alone in a sparse, clinical room. (Told you I’m having mood swings!) Next week I’ll bring a book and my iPod with me, dammit!
Luckily, I perk up on the way home when I get a lovely call from my work friend Deepa.
Once home, I ‘perk down’ – I’m irrationally upset that our dog Keira has dug a hole in the garden, and is refusing to come to me and accept her punishment.
Now I’m just plain tired and emotional – I wish I could eat some cake. Seriously. One of the worst things about IBS is that I can’t ‘comfort’ eat; there are very few ways that I can treat myself (although the occasional bubble bath does work wonders).
Oh well, off to dream of cream cakes and chocolate biscuits…and a better day tomorrow!
Anally retentive thoughts: Medical rant, part 2 “All women have fat days!”
Yesterday’s rant has reminded me of the most frustrating medical appointment of my life, and I thought I’d share it with you. To this day, 7 years later, it almost makes my ears ring with rage.
At age 28 (ish), I’d lived on the Central Coast for a little under a year when I asked my GP to refer me to a gastroenterologist.
I’d already seen one in Sydney, and although he’d conducted a colonoscopy, he hadn’t found anything, and gave me the soon-to-be-familiar spiel about IBS (no one knowing exactly what it was, or how to find out, so just deal with it, could be worse, blah blah blah).
So, anyway, this was all before I found the Elimination Diet, so my symptoms were at their worst and I was like a cranky zombie. But, desperation beat exhaustion, and I sought a second opinion.
My GP handed me a referral, with the ominous explanation of “I don’t know much about him, but he’s local…”
My GP’s dubiousness was well-founded. On arriving at the gastroenterologist’s office a few weeks later, I was greeted by a receptionist who asked me to pay the consultation fee before seeing the doctor (lets call him ‘Dr X’ – I can’t actually remember his name). Strange, I thought, as I handed over the cash, I’ve never come across this before…
Within 5 minutes of stepping into Dr X’s office, I was starting to understand the reason for the ‘payment upfront’ scheme. Dr X scanned my referral, before looking up at me in outrage.
Dr X: You’ve already seen Rob! Rob told you what was wrong – you have IBS!
Me: Well, yes, but I’m after a second opinion. I still feel like death warmed up, and its affecting every area of my life. I really can’t go on like this indefinitely. Are there any other tests you can give me? Or any treatment? I’m constantly sick and I just don’t know what to do. Maybe an endoscopy?
Dr X: I can’t believe this! Rob is a very good doctor, you know.
Me: I’m sure he is, but I want a second opinion. Surely it’s not unusual for patients to seek a second opinion? (I felt like I should be getting angry back at him, but one of the worst things about mental cloudiness is that you are never sure if you are reading a situation correctly. I wondered if maybe he had reason to be so rude, and I was just too fuzzy to see it?)
After Dr X asked some cursory questions, it finally sunk in that the cavalry had well and truly not arrived. I was so disappointed – every night recently when I was tossing and turning with stomach cramping, every morning when I woke up exhausted, and every time I vomited in the toilets at work, I reminded myself of how many ‘more sleeps’ there were to go before I saw Dr X, who would hopefully end this nightmare.
Tears welled up in my eyes.
Dr X: You are clearly depressed - that's all it is! Now you are crying!
Me: I am crying because I’ve just spent money, time and energy on someone who isn’t going to help me! (getting angry) Now I know why your patients have to pay you up front!
Dr X: ..and you obviously have mood swings!
Me: Oh my God, I am not so stupid that I don’t know the difference between depression and physical illness! Look at my stomach – would depression make that bloating happen?
Dr X: All women have fat days.
All women have fat days. Let me tell you, all women do not have fat days. Sure, my weight varies dependant on my hormones, but never, in the 28 years I’d been alive at that point, had I experienced random bloating. And if I had, without any other symptoms, I certainly wouldn’t have wasted money on a gastroenterologist to discuss it.
Anyway, eventually in desperation, I said something to Dr X along the lines of “I want an endoscopy – I’m offering you money for this, either take it or leave it!” Of course, with dollar signs in his eyes, he decided to make more of an effort by shoving a finger up my bum for a quick examination “Nothing there – just as I thought”, before booking the endoscopy. The results of the endoscopy, of course, were “Nothing there – just as I thought!”