“The eagle-eyed amongst you will notice a few stylistic changes in Too Cool For Stool…”
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A list of useful links to organisations and charities that deal with issues mentioned throughout the Stool story.
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“My right arm fizzed with pain. I was 0.5% plastic, sticky tape and cotton wool, or, alternatively, 8.5% Blue Peter Tracy Island…”
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“I never thought I’d need an oxygen mask for a flare-up, but I wasn’t going to complain – and if I did, I’m pretty sure everyone else on board would happily take the mask off me.”
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“I’m 100% pro-NHS. Being in an NHS hospital for 29 days only solidified my views that it’s something that should be praised, protected and supported until the end of time.”
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“Why not say, “hold it at an angle” instead of making people feel like they need to recite Shakespeare whilst sticking it up their bum?”
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“Had I fallen into a parallel universe where the minds of six-year olds are dietary gospel?! What on earth was going on?!”
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“And so, my first paramedic call-out of the year also begun with an innocent act. My characterless crime? Reaching to grab a tissue next to my bed…”
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“Adding a small dash of either was like applying lipstick to swine, and any novelty I had for this culinary adventure was over quicker than the Queen’s Speech on amphetamines…”
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“I wasn’t even a week into my new life as an IBD patient, and Blue Öyster Cult were already telling me not to (Fear) The Reaper while I sat in hospital. What a time to be alive…”
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Upon his satisfaction, and like a lightly medicated lamb to the slaughter, I was ready for my rectal recording… And I instantly regret this decision.
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“However, as much as I wanted to run into the corner and hide, I knew I had to do it. My life was becoming an ever more confusing and humiliating place to be, and I’d be a colossal idiot to ignore a chance to get it sorted.”
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“When it came to my turn, I felt feint after the jab took place and left the cotton wool strapped to my arm for a good four hours afterward, as I was frightened of causing the vein to burst like a water main when I took it off.”
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“…At that precise moment, I would’ve gladly taken a direct hit from any stray nuclear warhead going than have to spend another second fearing that I was about to unleash faecal hell on anything nearby…”
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“With his back turned while he lubricated his now latex-gloved fingers, he asked me if I was “going anywhere nice this year on my holidays,” with all the shared interest and zeal of a man who’s having to stick his fingers up my bumhole.”
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“The first time I heard the words ‘Ulcerative Colitis’ was just after a colonoscopist had pulled a camera out of my backside. I’d like to say that this was as unglamorous as my story gets, but compared to what’s happened since, the first encounter was fairly dignified…”
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