My hell with bowel issues and how it all ended

First time on this forum here. I'm not sure whether it's meant for personal experiences/stories with long-term health issues or what but I thought I would post this here because, although I have recounted this story a few times, it still feels like a strong pressure on my chest so here goes. Also I warn you some details will be graphic so you best not be eating or anything while reading.

From the day I was born, I had major issues with my bowel on top of other life-threatening heart-related issues which I nearly died from. The damn thing just never worked and potty-training failed miserably for me as my bowel was having none of it. Fast forward to December 2005, a couple of weeks before Christmas, and an 8-year old me is getting enemas at the Royal Victoria Hospital in Belfast and having to drink gallons and gallons of Movicol (a liquidy laxative medicine) a day, which done me a hell of a lot more harm than good. It was an emotionally draining time for me, I felt like total crap the whole time and had the eyes bawled out of me from having to suffer the enemas then dealing with the effects the Movicol left on me.

I get released from hospital a week before Christmas, feeling agitated because I was soiling myself a lot thanks to the Movicol which I still had to take, although on a more sane dose (but still a nightmare) and the effects all the enemas left on me. I quickly accepted it all and moved on, being the happy-go-lucky kid I was. Now I take you to January 2008. I get admitted to hospital here in Derry for a while to get my bowel problems sorted out, supposedly once and for all. Is that what happened? NO! This time was even worse, the dosage of Movicol and other medication was relentless, I was being woke up by nurses every couple of hours during the night to change my bed sheets as I had completely soiled them.

One time I wasn't allowed to go home for a few hours all because I refused to take one of the tablets I was put on. The doctors were completely oblivious to the damage all this was causing me, the medication was doing a hell of a lot more harm than good. I was 10-years old and thought that death would have been better than living during that time! I was even having intrusive thoughts of killing people I cared about, and I keep those thoughts to myself to this very day and have told no family members about it. But anyway, I was let go early (after three weeks) due to a virus outbreak on the ward but I was told I'd have to come back in a while later. So a month passed by and I went by for more of the same mentally-exhausting punishment that left me worse than I ever was. I was discharged again soon after that but I would never be the same again after those experiences.

Okay, now, if you've made it this far without nodding off. There are some important details to this story to keep in mind:

-- My bowel could have been fixed with a simple operation
-- Because of my heart issues, doctors feared the effects the anaesthesia would have on it so they and anaesthetists often refused point-blank to do the operation and often recommend some form of medication instead
-- I had to wear nappies throughout my whole childhood and teenage years because of all this
-- Even when I was at home, I still had to drink like 3 glasses of Movicol a day. This was soon stopped towards the end of 2008 and I was put on Liquid Paraffin instead, which had less-devastating effects but was still a struggle to take. I was taken off that too when I was signed off by my bowel specialist in 2013.

At some point in 2010, my bowel shifted into a more unusual pattern than previous. For a period of six (sometimes slightly over that) weeks, waste would build up in my bowel then over a week or so spill out constantly before reverting back to the way it was. That's how it stayed right up until the 31st of January this year. Now, my last "bowel period" as I now call it happened sometime around late October/early November. Also around that time, I took a huge liking to Mexican and Indian food, which was probably just the catalyst for what happened next.

On the morning of January 31st, I was in severe pain with my stomach, unlike anything I had ever felt before. My stomach was horribly distended, as if I was 9-months pregnant or something. I was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance and after hours of complicated crap I won't even bother to delve into right now, the anaesthetist decided they had to do an operation on me because -- wait for it -- I was minutes away from death. The operation I should have had done when I was 5 was finally done and four months later I sit here with a stoma covered by an ostomy bag, which I am damn proud to have. Life has been so much better ever since. And no, I didn't have Crohn's or anything, my bowel was just very weak and pretty much died throughout the month of January and it was also killing me slowly but surely.

Sorry for the long, dragged-out post but I needed to relieve the stress it's been causing me lately in some way. If there are any questions at all, feel free to ask.