So we are now into 2020. I saw a Twitter post today reminding me that we are now as close to 2050 as we are away from 1990.

2019 was pretty quiet on the blog – only 4 posts. And it was pretty quiet IBD wise too. The Barbie Butt wound has remained healed, aside from the odd bit of discharge and leakage. My stoma has been well managed, with a few leaks but not many at all. I did get a little bit of arthritic type pain in my hands, but it went away again.

Life with a 5 and a 1 year old whilst working full time, even with a short communte and flexible working is hectic. My job is demanding, and sleep deprivation was a feature at the start of the year. When my wife went back to work in March we then juggled her being at work, also with a commute and now regularly get up at 5.30am to get ready to take the children to the childminder for 7.

I have been able to do some running though, following on from the Sodbury Scramble earlier in the year. And I didn’t quite complete my parkrun challenge, as an injury and some ilness prevented me from doing all 30 runs – however I managed 27 in 7 different locations, and did the New Years Day Double! My running really helps with both my physical and mental health, and I highly recommend parkrun to everyone.

The tiredness and hectic life has meant I have not yet completed my coaching qualification, so that is high on the priority list for 2020.

So nearly 15 years since my diagnosis, and now coming up to 4 years since my last major operation, and therefore 2 since the wound healed. Life is – usual?

How was your 2019? Leave a comment or get in touch via social media

The Harris Family at Bristol Children’s Hospital Emergency Department

A few weeks ago, when checking on my son before we went to bed we discovered he had had an accident and pooped in his PJs. It hadn’t woken him, and he seemed otherwise OK when we woke him up to change him. A little while later he woke again and came into bed with us, and I was kicked out into his bed. He had a high temperature, we gave him some Calpol. He didn’t really settle, and so was downstairs early, sat on the sofa and watching TV and snuggling mummy, temperature still a little high.

In the early hours the diarrhea started, and he was just a poorly little boy. he didn’t complain, but was very quiet as we tried to get him to sip water. He even managed a little breakfast.

About mid-morning, when we wiped there was blood. Not a huge amount, but blood. So it was 111, out of hours GP followed by a trip to Bristol Children’s Hospital – by which time the second lots of Calpol and the Nurofen had kicked in and the fever reduced. He was still often having to go to the toilet – which made the journey home interesting when we had to pull over in road works (thankfully there was a pub). The diagnosis – a stomach bug, albeit a nasty one.

Small children have a wonderful way of causing embaressment don’t they? Like suddenly being well when the paediatric A&E doctor is able to see them? Still, the doctor did get a cuddle when it was all over…

As a parent, these kind of episodes, whilst rare, can be prety scary. Between mummy and daddy you have to not panic, make the right phone calls, and then prepare for a possible trip for several hours – snacks, drinks, changes of clothes, towels for the car, books and toys to entertain. And I’m usually the non-panicker. This time however I had an added feeling of dread – because my first UC symptom was blood on the paper. What if I had passed this disease on to my little boy? What if he had to have a colonoscopy? Or a stoma?

I know that there is a slightly higher chance that my son will have UC – but only slightly. Neither of my parents or grandparents had it. For those few hours though there was a real fear in me, and I think for some days afterwards.

However, he recovered just fine, and no further symptoms. I think the fear will always be there, but the treatments now compared to when I was diagnosed are so much better if he doe shave it – which he probably doesn’t.