My Stoma Story - A Great Start to 2021
"We have to operate immediately or you could die within 24 hours"
No, this wasn't a line out of TV shows like Casualty, Grey’s Anatomy, ER, or for the older generation St Elsewhere.
This line was said to me by a very worried looking surgeon at the Prince Royal University Hospital, Orpington on 3rd January 2021.
Another worried voice from the corner of the room exclaimed "You need to sign this consent form right away, so we can prepare for the surgery right away"
Having just woken up, I thought I was in the tail end of some weird dream, exhausted I tried to roll over and go back to sleep.
"Do you understand what we said Mr Douglin?" another voice said. How many people were in this 'dream' I thought.
I slowly opened my eyes, and initially could only make out 5 figures, all in white standing in what I thought was my 'bedroom'. I squinted, rubbed my eyes and focused, nope these weren't ghosts from the movie 'Casper, these were 5 anxious looking people standing at my hospital beside.
Then an excruciating pain erupted in my stomach, which felt all too familiar. It's amazing how pain sharpens the memory and generates recollections, which it certainly did for me.
 |
| Before things changed |
My memory flashbacked to forty-eight hours previously on New Year's Eve, when I complained to my wife Mandi, about having some discomfort in my stomach. Now everyone knows that between Christmas and New Year, if it's not nailed down, we all eat everything going. Or is that just me?
 |
| My Wife Mandi and I |
Anyway, I put the excruciating pain down to Christmas over indulgence, however the pain got worse, and my stomach bloated.
I had a bath to relieve the pain and Mandi, looked at me and said "You look 9 months pregnant; we're calling the 111 the NHS advice line"
They advised me to go to A&E, and after various tests, scans and x rays, I ended up with 'Casper' and his friends, giving me their dire diagnosis.
So, my options were consent to a bowel resection to repair the damage, or possibly die of septicaemia with the next 24hrs.
Mm? Let me think about that? I called Mandi to discuss the options, like I was deciding what to buy from our favourite Indian takeaway.
"Sign the bloody forms " was all I heard from my crying wife from the other end of the phone. So, sign them I did.
"OK, thank you Mr Douglin, the main surgeon said, we'll go and prepare for the surgery.
Now, there were two main thoughts running through my mind, (1) What did the bowel resection entail? (2) I hadn't had the chance to tell the rest of my family I was going under the knife.
So, I had to leave that job to Mandi to tell my mother, while I contacted my children and explained as best I could what was going on.
It was only after contacting everyone, that I realised how alone I was, and with the Covid_19 protocols in place, no one was allowed to visit.
But that was ok, as I was only ten minutes from home and Mandi could pop by to drop things off whenever I needed them. However, that comforting thought was soon about to change.
Back in 2010 I received a kidney from my wife after being diagnosed with chronic kidney disease, and the surgery was carried out at London Guy's Hospital.
So after a discussion with the surgeons, it was decided I would be transferred there in case there were any complications during the bowel resection surgery, known formerly as a Hartman’s procedure.
With no time to waste , I was strapped in the back of the ambulance and whisked across London with the blues and twos on, to have the lifesaving procedure carried out.
A great way to start the New Year of 2021.
My main concern with the change of hospital was that I would be further from home. In addition to the realisation that the last time I saw Mandi, I was doubled up in excruciating pain in A&E, not a great memory to leave her with. Plus the fact that I didn't know what ward I was going to, or how she could contact me. At least when I was at the Princess Royal, she could drive down there and enquire if needed.
Anyway, back to my journey I arrived safely despite the ambulance nearly crashing into an old lady on a mobility scooter. That's a story for another day.
After meeting the surgeons and signing another consent form at Guys, I was taken straight to theatre for surgery. Thankfully, before going down I was able to contact Mandi, my children and mum, which meant the world to me.
Then it was go time and into the operating theatre.
"Eric can you count down from 10 please? " the anaesthetist asked as she placed the mask on my face.
Being the comedian, I thought I was, I said "I can read the alphabet backwards"
She wasn't impressed.
"OK 10, 9,8, 7”. I closed my eyes, and I was out like a light.
Next thing I hear is someone saying "Eric, Eric, open your eyes"
My first thought was "Oh no, they haven't given me enough anaesthesia, and have to give me more and start the procedure again.
"Eric, the procedure went well, we've repaired your bowel and given you a Stoma"
I opened my eyes and those white coated ghosts from the Casper movie were back again.
"Stoma? " I thought as I reached to wipe my eyes, and felt the tug of the cannula in my hand, bring me back to a painful reality.
Looking down at stomach, I was wrapped up in cling film like Christmas leftovers, with tubes and wires protruding out of me.
 |
| The Long Road to Recovery |
" Yes, a Stoma" the surgeon continued "" We've removed the damaged part of your bowel, resectioned it and given you a Stoma, which will allow you to empty your bowels in a bag through your stomach "
" Fortunately, we only had to remove a few inches of your intestine, so we should be able to do a reversal in a year or so"
I had so many questions I wanted to ask, but my priority was to contact my wife and family to let them know I was okay. So I didn't ask them, I called just my wife and children to let them know that I was ok.
Although I was on strong pain medication, my body felt like I'd been put through a meat grinder. In order to repair my bowel & create the Stoma, my small intestine had been redirected through a small opening in my stomach wall.
This would allow me to do 'Number 2's' through the opening into disposable bags, attached to my stomach.
Although this procedure saved my life, I was shocked to see the stoma opening for the first time. I expected a little opening the size of a pea or something, but was shocked to see a 2-inch hole, with part of my bright pink intestine slightly protruding out.
It was now that I really wished I had listened to the surgeons when they were explaining what was going to happen during, and after the surgery.
I found this change to my body really hard to take as I thought I would be seen as a sort of freak, and unattractive.
How could my wife find a man with part of his intestines exposed, and a bag attached to his stomach remotely attractive. What do I do about work, sport, general day to day tasks?
I had heard of stomas before, but these were only for really old people I thought, not for a relatively fit and otherwise healthy man.
These thoughts plagued me while I was in hospital, although Mandi, was supportive as always and took everything in her stride.
I was in a very dark place while in hospital, and being in the same ward I was in exactly 10 years earlier, made things worse.
"Why me again?" was all I could think, "What have I done to deserve these life changing conditions? "
Coupled with the fact I had contracted sepsis due to the bowel rupture, and then Covid_19, while an impatient I was in a bad place, physically and mentally.
However, one of the saving graces, was when I met my Stoma Nurse, Margaret. A Stoma Nurse is assigned to patients who have had surgery, with a role to guide you through the process, and provide information and support.
Margaret showed me how to change my Stoma bag, and reassured me that there wasn't anything I could have done to avoid getting diverticulitis. In addition, I was told that over 13,000 stoma operations are carried out in the UK, so I felt less alone in my plight.
After a slow and painful recovery I was discharged 7 days after the initial procedure, but was readmitted 3 days later, as the infection had spread. I was put on a strong dose of antibiotics and monitored closely, before discharging myself a week later.
During my second stint in hospital, I was put on a ward with Covid_19 patients, and I will never forget the sights and sounds I heard during that period.
In addition, my eldest son was also admitted to his local hospital at the same time as me, and was seriously ill fighting Covid_19 related pneumonia. Which he thankfully recovered from after being an inpatient for a couple of weeks.
I pleaded with the surgeons to let me go home for a mental break, which they reluctantly agreed to providing I came back within 48 hrs.
It's was such a relief to get home, spend time with my wife and sleep in my own bed, and although I was full of stitches and not very mobile, I was home.
On returning to hospital and getting checked over, the surgeons were happy with my progress, as the infection markers had reduced sufficiently for me to become an outpatient.
Now came the hard part, coming to terms with my new friend 'Stanley' the stoma, yes, I named it. The easy part was dealing with the physical aspect, my body would heal naturally and I would get used to dealing the day to day physical challenges in time.
But mentally, I was still in a dark place trying to come to terms with this dramatic lifestyle change. Although Mandi was very supportive, empathetic and understanding, I couldn't really talk through my experiences with her.
Being a stubborn man, I wasn't comfortable in talking about my condition and being a black man, I was less inclined to talk about my mental state. This in sometimes seen as a systemic problem across the black community. It's a well-known issue that we don't speak freely about our health issues as it's seen as a sign of weakness.
Writing this blog, and sharing my story is the first step of coming to terms with having a Stoma. It's taken me 6 months to get to this stage, but I will get there by raising awareness for 'Ostomates', organ donors and those suffering from invisible illnesses.
4 |
 |
| Podcast Time |
 |
| Having the stoma, allows me to do what I love. |
