I ignored my piles and it almost cost me my life

I felt my heart racing, with my smartwatch showing 182 beats per minute. I had palpitations that felt like my heart was coming out of my throat. 

I was struggling for breath and, above all else, I was so, so tired.

It was at this point that I said to my partner that I needed to get to hospital. I laid on the back seat of the car for the journey, struggling to stay awake.

To this day I don’t know how, but I managed to walk from the car and into A&E where I sloped into the corner and closed my eyes.

My body just gave up – and I couldn’t believe what had caused it.

Piles. 

Now in my forties, anal haemorrhoids have been an issue since I was 16. Never any itching, or pain. Just blood, and lots of it.

The first massive blood loss when I was 18 was terrifying. At this point, I had no idea what was causing the bleed, and every worse case scenario went through my head.

It led to investigations with cameras galore. Doctors were keen to rule out the likes of Crohn’s disease and bowel cancer. I’ve had procedures many times over the years and the result is always the same: piles.

At one point, in an attempt to limit the blood loss, my piles were banded – where small, elastic bands are tied around the internal part of the haemorrhoid – leading to them dropping off, but they soon returned.

I fell into a cycle. I could go months and months with nothing, and then, out of the blue, I’d start to bleed. And I’d bleed heavily.

There was no real trigger, and the bleeding tended to last a week or two. Had I taken the time to read NHS advice over the years, I’d have realised that I always allowed it to go on too long. 

Though I should have sought help and advice from my doctor earlier than I did, it just became the norm for me instead.

But this time, things were different. My bleeding had always been heavy and dark red, but it seemed darker than ever, and I was passing thick clots. 

I remember one night being terrified about the amount of blood I lost. I’d gone to the toilet in the early hours, and somehow there was blood everywhere. The bathroom looked like a murder scene.  

I thought I’d done a good job of cleaning it up, but my kids found traces of it the next morning and it led to them panicking. My response? I made light of it and joked.

The usual two weeks came and went, and I was still bleeding. I thought I was coming down with something as I felt tired all the time, and my fitness had got worse than ever. 

I was breathless just walking from the bed to the ensuite bathroom. Even the simple act of getting dressed sent my heart rate sky high. 

Another two weeks, and I was still bleeding. I was feeling worse and worse every day and, in hindsight, I was stupid to ignore it. I never thought it could be the piles that were making me feel this bad. 

Arriving at hospital, I wasn’t sure I’d ever leave. It’s hard to describe how it felt, but it was like my body was shutting down.

I was helped through to be triaged and it was my partner that did the talking. She told the nurse about the massive blood loss I’d been experiencing. Seeing how pale and tired I was, the nurse told me I’d be staying and that I clearly needed a blood transfusion. 

I remember being barely conscious as the needle entered my arm to take blood. While the sample was taken away for a full check, an instant test revealed quite how bad I was. 

The numbers and results meant nothing to me at the time. My partner has a medical background, and I recall seeing her face drop and her eyes well up as my numbers were given. 

I later discovered that normal haemoglobin levels are around 13.0-18.0. Results of 8.0 meant you were low, and 6.5 or less was life-threatening. My results came in at 4.7. 

I closed my eyes yet again, just wanting to sleep and never wake up.  

I was laid on a bed and taken to intensive care. I remember a doctor talking to me and hearing the words ‘four blood transfusions’. It then dawned on me quite how ill I was, and I sobbed while I drifted in and out of consciousness. I was terrified. 

A week later, I was discharged. My haemoglobin levels were still low, at 8.0, and I was still tired. I struggled to walk, and my work as a freelance writer suffered. I just wasn’t able to concentrate as the exhaustion was too much.

It took six months of a high dose of iron to return to a state of normal, and I now know, despite the fact I still bleed, that I will never let myself get back to that place.

I’ve still never received a clear reason for why my bleeding was so extreme. It still happens now, but less frequently. I can now go a couple of months at a time bleed-free.

Right now, I’m awaiting an appointment for another attempt at banding. The only other option is surgery but the consultants are keen to avoid this because of all the risk it involves.

Men still seem to have a hang up when it comes to discussing any health problems. Talking about piles is even harder as it comes with huge embarrassment.

The thing is, three out of four people will experience piles at some point in their lives. While my case may be extreme, it could happen to anyone.

It could have cost me my life if I kept ignoring it. 

If you ever suffer from piles, be sure to check out NHS advice. There are plenty of tips to help you through your recovery. 

However, should bleeding start, make sure you know what’s OK and what’s not. Never ignore it, or pass it off as your ‘normal’. 

Because strange as it sounds, piles can kill. 

Take it from me.

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk. 

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