St Mark’s does not just treat my condition. They give me the stability to build a life around it.
Bill, or Callycat as he is known in the recording studio, has been a patient of St Mark’s for 15 years, and writes songs that capture his experience of living with Inflammatory Bowel Disease (IBD).
Bill has generously decided to donate some of the proceeds from his albums to support St Mark’s vision of a future free from the fear of bowel disease.
We are honoured to share Bill’s story in his own words.
I have lived with Crohn’s disease for more than forty years. Over that time, I have been hospitalised many times and undergone major surgical procedures. Like many people with IBD, my journey has not been straightforward.
Fifteen years ago, I was told by my local hospital that there was nothing more they could do for me. It was one of the lowest points of my life.
A fellow IBD patient suggested I ask for a referral to St Mark’s. My GP arranged an appointment just a few weeks before one Christmas. By that stage, I was extremely unwell — weak, underweight, and struggling even to stand upright. I remember asking him whether I would be coming back to the hospital after Christmas. The consultant looked at me and said, very calmly, “You are not going home. I’m admitting you now.”
At the time, I thought he was taking Christmas away from me. In reality, he was giving me many more.
Within days, I was surrounded by a full multidisciplinary team — surgeons, gastroenterologists, dietitians, nutrition specialists, stoma nurses, and extraordinary ward staff. It was the first time in a long time that I felt there was a clear plan.
What I didn’t know then was that this team would still be part of my life fifteen years later.
They have seen me through further surgery, severe flare-ups, weight loss, malnutrition, and the mental toll that chronic illness quietly brings. Through every setback, there has been continuity, expertise, and — just as importantly — kindness.
At one stage, my relationship with food became deeply complicated. I developed a strong aversion and could not even sit in the same room while others were eating. It happened gradually and left me feeling isolated and confused. Instead of pressure, I was met with patience. With the support of the nutrition team, I was given time, supplements, and space — eighteen months without food while my body stabilised. Eventually, I was able to reintroduce eating at a pace that felt safe.
That understanding changed everything.
More recently, after experiencing dizzy spells and fainting episodes, I was diagnosed with Short Bowel Syndrome. I was taught to administer my own IV fluids — something that initially felt overwhelming but has since become part of everyday life. Again, I was guided step by step.
What has stayed with me most over the years is not just the medical expertise — though that has been exceptional — but the sense of being known. The same faces. The same steady reassurance. The feeling that I am not navigating this alone.
Writing has always been easier for me than speaking. After stoma surgery many years ago, I wrote a poem about how I was feeling. Recently, while clearing out old papers, I found it again and turned it into a song ‘Inside Out’. That led to the release of two albums — Beautifully Broken and I Accept the Dark — both shaped by my experience of living with IBD.
The song I have the most trouble finishing was and is ‘Alone’ of ‘Beautifully Broken’ I still can’t get through the whole song. At the very end there are a few words sung by a friend of mine who has stayed by me ever since we first met. She has been my complete rock throughout my life.
When people asked if the music was available on CD, I made physical copies. Rather than selling them, I ask for a donation to St Mark’s Hospital Foundation.
It feels like a small way of giving something back to the place that has given me so much.
A few weeks ago, a young woman in Australia contacted me after hearing one of my songs. She told me she had played it to her specialist because it expressed feelings she had never been able to put into words herself. That message meant more to me than she will ever know.
If sharing my experience helps even one person feel understood, then something meaningful has come from all of this.
My gastroenterologist Professor Hart once said to me: “When things are going well, we will let you fly. And if you fall, we will be there to catch you.” (I think I will write a song around those words)
That has proven true.
St Mark’s does not just treat my condition. They give me the stability to build a life around it.
