To my beautiful friends

Through this crazy journey of having IBD there is one thing that people repeatedly touch on.

How brave or strong I am for dealing with this debilitating disease. 
And in a way I am. To deal with the physical and mental pain this disease brings on a day to day basis does require some sort of strength. 
I want to talk to you about the behind the scenes people, the people who make me feel strong and brave. 
My support system. 
To say I have amazing friends and family is an understatement. 
My health is in tatters, but there are not many people on this Earth who have been blessed with the support system that I have. 
One Sunday, a few years ago now, I was feeling particularly bad and called up a friend to say I felt terrible and I wanted to go to a&e. 
Off we went, and she kept me company whilst we waited to be seen, and when I had a drip in my arm that prevented me from moving, she came with me to the bathroom to help me pee. She stayed with me and cracked jokes to keep my spirits up. 
The same friend came walked all the way from her house, as there was no transport because it was Christmas day, to spend time with me whilst I had my Christmas in hospital. 
Not because I asked her to but because she cared enough to make the effort. 
My mum, on the eve of my surgery, stayed with me and joked about my grandad in yellow marigold gloves performing my surgery, and we laughed till I cried about dust. Dust of all things. She kept the nerves at bay. 
My beautiful mum who made me laugh too soon after surgery and I cried because the laughter was hurting my weak tummy muscles. 
My brother who changed his trousers in my little hospital cubicle only to be caught by my doctors with his trousers round his ankles. 
Three friends of mine who sneaked me out of hospital to eat wagamamas. 
A friend who hand drew a get well soon card, who asked questions about my stoma so that she understood. 
Another who said they would take a phone call at 3am if I needed it and would bring me cake if it cheered me up.
Another who did lots of research on the internet about colitis and diet to understand it all.
Every single one of my friends and family who either came to see me at the hospital, wrote me a note to get well soon, who enquired about the state of my health. 
The boy. Who visited me every single day whenever I was in hospital. Who deals with my crying, my anger, my joy. Who offered to learn to clean TinTin so I could get drunk with my friends. Who cleaned the bed when my bag leaked and laughed about it. Didn’t even complain once. Who took me to Rome to cheer me up. Who has been fighting this with me, everyday since we begun our relationship.
Every phone call with advice given, every compliment of how well I was doing, and how strong I was for having a stoma at such a young age. 
Every well wish that has been sent to me, that people have taken the time out to think about me, and send me a message.

Anyone that has allowed me their time to rant about how much I hate having IBD/stoma/J Pouch.

There are so many other moments that I can recall but I’d be here for a very long time and my fingers would have cramp and become claw like from all the typing!

Being strong is half the battle, the other half is having these amazing, beautiful beautiful people in my life. 
This post is for all you guys, who read my blog or who are all here with me through my darkest times. Thank you for being by my side, thank you for your support. I couldn’t have done it without you.