The other night I found myself googling: ‘How many organs can you live without?’ (Quite reassuringly for someone who has had an organ removed, I discovered you could still live healthily without something like 50 per cent.)
That’s just one of the strange places my brain has been to while I’ve been bed-bound following a health emergency so complex and still unresolved that, if I start writing about it now, this column is going to morph into a medical text. And no one wants to read that in the run-up to Christmas.
Here’s a summary, though: in the small hours of an October Sunday night/Monday morning (always a nightmare time for an emergency because of skeleton staffing in hospitals) I was rushed to A&E in a whole different level of pain to anything I have known before. I was critically ill and taken into surgery. I had peritonitis, which is inflammation of the peritoneum (or abdominal cavity), typically caused by bacterial infection either via the blood or after rupture of an abdominal organ. If treated too late it can be life-threatening.
After theatre, I recovered in intensive care. My body was in a state of septic shock and had low blood pressure. I was hooked up to lots of machines – you get the idea. I couldn’t move, never mind get out of bed, so I had a lot of time to think.
I had some dark moments, I had some lightbulb moments, I made some bonkers, heavy-painkiller-induced online purchases. But now that I am home and recuperating, I’ve had time to reflect on a few of the revelations I had while I was forced to step off the hamster wheel and just stop.
Get angry, it could save your life
A few weeks before this emergency, I had gone to A&E because I was worried about some symptoms, but I was sent home. I was concerned enough to ask for help but I didn’t want to be a burden. Also, I hate the idea of being seen as a ‘sick person’, because that doesn’t feel like who I really am. I still struggle with the label ‘chronic illness’.
So when I ended up being rushed in, I had a moment when I got really f***ing upset, thinking, ‘You guys need to take me seriously. Yes, I may look like I could be healthy because I have nail varnish on but you need to understand that, even though I am really strong and I will do my best to push through and be well, when I cry out for help you need to listen.’
Stand up for yourself, be assertive and push for tests – otherwise you’re just a ghost, an invisible person, another number who floats in and out of an office and doesn’t give anyone too much paperwork at the end of their shift.
Eat the apple pie
Here’s the irony: just before going back into hospital, I was in the best shape I’d been in for years. For three weeks, I’d only eaten meat and a small amount of vegetables, I’d cut out all sugar and was fasting intermittently. I had started exercising again, just ten minutes a day, but I was looking in the mirror, saying to my partner Ryan, ‘I’ve got a flipping eight-pack – this not eating sugar is great!’ I was ripped and strong; I finally had my body back.
I was doing this purely from a health perspective, not vanity as I may have done before. I’d been experiencing a bad flare-up with rectal bleeding and gynaecological pain and wanted to try anything that might help. I’d listened to some podcast where a cancer expert was talking about why cutting out sugar will reduce inflammation, so I thought I’d give it a go.
And then this happened.
After I recovered from my stoma surgery in January, I was very particular and only ate really nourishing food. I had a diet of bone broth, little bits of shredded chicken. This time I thought, f*** it, I am going to eat whatever I want!
Before I got ill with colitis I used to eat anything I liked and was happy. So while I was in hospital this time I asked my brother Sam to bring in milkshakes; I had apple pie with ice cream. I ate everything! Because you never know, this could be it.
It’s so sad that people are always trying to self-improve and at the end of the day it’s all b******s! Some diseases can’t be cured by diet. Often, all this ‘wellbeing’ information is just one person’s opinion; it’s usually in someone else’s vested interest to sell whatever products they’re pushing.
I had an overwhelming feeling of: there is no ‘right’; you can’t read just one book and decide, ‘that’s the only recipe book for me’. We really need to stop being so prescriptive because no one can live the perfect life.
Sweet relief: Louise back at home with son Leo and dogs Toto and Koji
S**t rises to the top
There were moments when I wondered: have I got everything in life wrong, is that why I’m being punished like this? Why was god doing this to me when I’m always trying to make positive changes and be a better person? I felt maybe I’m not good enough and that’s why this was happening to me. I was looking around for reasons.
And then someone said to me, ‘Unfortunately, s**t always rises to the top.’ It’s so true. Bad things happen to good people all the time; meanwhile awful people end up heading big corporations and getting off scot-free despite all sorts of behaviour. When the consultant said that I chuckled, and later, when I thought about it, it gave me a sense of acceptance about what had happened to me.
Live, laugh, love – seriously!
When a friend came to see me in hospital, we had a long chat about how other people find their happy place. What is the key to being truly content? We know we are privileged and have always prided ourselves on having good taste – but we came to the conclusion that the people who are really nailing happiness are the ones who have those cheesy slogan prints on their wall that say things like ‘live, laugh, be happy’. The people who are going, ‘Oh my god, there’s a breakfast buffet. I’m going to have everything!’
I never thought I could be that cliché – a slogan person – but we could all do with soaking up that energy. Embrace cringey niceness and don’t get so caught up in whether something is cool or tasteful – just enjoy it.
Done is better than perfect
While stuck in bed and scrolling though my phone I found so many videos I’d made for work that were sitting in a drafts folder because I thought they weren’t good enough to post. They weren’t quite polished.
Then I looked closer and thought, ‘These are good. What was I so worried about?’ I could die with them all still sitting there, never seeing the light of day, and all that work would have gone to waste because they weren’t quite perfect. So I have now posted most of them because done is better than perfect.
Don’t hold on so tight; the first draft of everything is rubbish, but you have to learn from your failures. I’m now looking to fail as much as possible because that will mean I am giving things a go.
I’m so up for Christmas
Actually, the vibe I get is that everyone is. It’s the first time Leo, who’s just turned three, really understands it and he’s now talkative. It feels joyful. I’ve got ‘live, laugh, love’ stockings for everyone and I am going to fill them with colourful, fun stuff.
The past few Christmases have been burdened by stress, grief and disappointment, but this year we are back with a BANG! I feel cheerful and nostalgic, we’re bringing back our old traditions: Ryan and I are listening to Sinatra and swinging around our kitchen decorated with gaudy tinsel and mistletoe.
I missed out on Halloween, bonfire night and the turning on of the Hampton Court Christmas lights but now we’re more than making up for it – and that includes feasting like every day is our last and dumping every wellness fad in the metaphorical bin.
