When I started writing this blog it was Stuart’s birthday (yes, I’ve named my stoma Stuart), 12 months to the day since I had surgery to remove roughly 2kg of a badly functioning organ. It is now 13 months as October was an extremely busy month – and so is November at the moment.

So the fact that it is one year on, has got me reflecting pretty much constantly (this hasn’t helped my sleeping patterns, which are erratic at best). I think back to May 2016 and just remember pain. It was full on!

To tell you what I’ve been through, it started on Good Friday, 2016: blood in the toliet; confusion; more blood in the toilet; worry; misdiagnosis of piles, wrong medication; more and more blood; feeling weak; camera up my bottom; correct diagnosis; oral steroids; pain; weakness; rushing to the toilet 10+ times a day; hospital admission; IV steroids; more cameras; mood swings from steroids; Humeria injections; less blood in stools; return to work; blood tests; hospital readmission; more IV steroids; blood tests; prepped for surgery; surgery cancelled; different surgeon assigned; surgery completed – Stuart is created; home; Stuart not working; dehydration, unbearable cramp in legs, arms & hands; hospital readmission; IV drips; Stuart starts working (hooray); weight at 57kg (for someone 6ft that’s not great); home again; putting weight on; eating lots; eating some more; cycle rides (very gently and slowly); phased return to work; full time teaching; cycling to work; residential trip; lose voice; summer holidays; voice partly comes back; races pedalcars; term starts again…

If you are still reading then you have just read my life in the last year and a half. It has been quite some year. I like to think that I look after my body quite well, whilst pushing it to get stronger at the same time. Sometimes that goes hand in hand, sometimes it doesn’t. One thing which is completely destroyed by having surgery is core strength.

Balance is something I’ve always taken for granted. Since I can remember I’ve either been on a bike, skateboard, scooter or inline skates. One event from when I was young, which I can remember clearly, is being pushed on my bike by my dad along the pavement when I was about 3 or 4. He would start at walking pace before going into slight jog, finally a sprint would happen with a strong final push. My little legs would be spinning round and round, but I loved the rush that came with speed. Looking back on it now, maybe that was one of the moments which led to me becoming the keen cyclist I am today. Even after my car accident in 2012 (I broke my left leg, hip and was placed into an induced coma for 10 days. I now have titanium in my right leg, hence ‘A Titanium Stoma’) the first thing I aimed for was to get back on my bike. My first ride with my good friend Chris was slow and steady, but my balance was there from the off.

“Titanium Strong” something I have in common with Bloodhound SSC.

When the IBD nurses – who are amazing btw – told me I was going to have surgery I was mentally broken. Sat on my own in A&E my first thought was that I would never cycle again. Well thank goodness for the internet and world of blogging. I’d soon found 3 blogs which explained that cycling with a bag can be done and 2 blogs were of competitive roadies! On reflection they did mention the issue of core.

I dismissed it at the time, I was a fit young man, getting core strength wouldn’t be a problem. Yet that is what I’m struggling with. Not ill-fitting bags, not leakages (touch wood!), not runny output or blockages, but core strength.

I now feel I (partly) understand how a lady’s body is affected after having a C-SECTION. I mean I didn’t have a person come out of me that I had carried around for 9 months, but the feeling of core muscles being cut must be similar. I think I can say not being able to sit up independently in bed was a definite low point. I felt so helpless, so even though I looked ok (as the unfamiliar night shift nurse thought as she forced me to get up to go to the toilet on my own – that was the one and only moan I can have at Treliske btw. In every other moment of care they were amazing – even when they were repeatedly sticking a camera up my bottom!). After getting home, improvements started happening, but it was so slow and frustrating.

I’m so scared of getting a hernia it’s unreal. This prevents me from doing true strength workouts, however luckily my best man Simon is a trained personal trainer and has developed a rough plan to help me. As the weeks and months go by, hopefully my core strength will return. I’ll let you know how I get on.

My current torso with a support band and without.