IN his early 20s, Liam Robertson felt “indestructible”. He was super fit, always out with friends and couldn’t have been happier or healthier.
That all changed after a holiday to Spain. Returning home, Liam thought he had food poisoning and his GP brushed it off as a tummy bug – but he deteriorated so quickly he could barely leave the house. Doctors then revealed he could die at any moment.
After “brutal” treatment to save his life, Liam pulled through – but he will live with the after-effects for life.
Here, he shares his story…
At 21, I thought I was indestructible. Every day I trained, running in the morning, lifting weights in the afternoon, and doing Muay Thai at night.
I loved the discipline and the rush of feeling fit. I had a good job, a steady girlfriend, and a busy social life in Aberdeen, Scotland. Everything felt certain.
Then, one morning in September 2009, after returning from a holiday in Costa Dorada with a friend, I woke up with stabbing pains in my stomach.
I assumed it was food poisoning and tried to get on with my day, but the pain kept coming and going until it became unbearable.
Within hours, I was running to the toilet constantly, and then I saw blood.
Terrified, I called my GP for an emergency appointment. I thought I was dying.
They told me it was “just a tummy bug”, likely from drinking tap water abroad or dodgy hotel food, and sent me home. It was very dismissive.
Over the next few weeks, I became progressively worse.
Each time I went to the GP or hospital, I was sent away – simply handed painkillers and told there was “nothing wrong”.
I was belittled and dismissed. I knew something was seriously wrong, but it felt like banging my head against a brick wall.
Weeks turned into months, and months into years. I was visiting my GP several times a month, reporting crippling cramps and heavy bleeding.
Still, no one listened.
My life began to unravel. I could barely train, I was constantly exhausted, missing work, and my relationship fell apart. My social life disappeared.
Those words – “there’s nothing wrong with you” – haunted me. I genuinely began to question my sanity.
I remember planning my own funeral. I thought, ‘This can’t be how it ends’
Liam Robertson
For over three years I didn’t sleep through a single night, constantly rushing to the toilet, bleeding and in pain. My life had hit rock bottom.
Eventually, I went to a private hospital for a scan in 2012. Within minutes, they confirmed I had a chronic inflammatory bowel disease (IBD) called ulcerative colitis. I’d never even heard of it before.
Scientists don’t yet know exactly what causes the condition, but most believe it’s related to how the gut and immune system react to bacteria in the bowel. We don’t know if it’s connected to my holiday or not.
What I do know, though, is chronic means forever. That should have been the worst day of my life, but instead, it was a relief.
After years of suffering, I finally had answers. I finally felt seen. There was a name for my pain, and a plan to treat it.
For a while, things did start to improve. Treatment brought periods of remission, even a few years where I felt almost normal again.
I managed to rebuild parts of my life, return to training, and believe I had the illness under control.
But years later, without warning, a major flare hit me harder than ever before.
I didn’t sleep for nearly two weeks straight and was rushed to hospital with severe bleeding.
The steroids I’d been prescribed to control the inflammation triggered psychosis, and my immune system became so weak that I caught a flu virus in hospital.
I was so run down, bleeding more than 50 times a day, so it hit me really severely.
‘This can’t be how it ends’
My room had to be sealed off, and nurses could only enter wearing full PPE.
Doctors warned me that my large intestine could rupture at any moment, and that I needed to prepare for the worst.
I thought, “This can’t be how it ends”. But I remember planning my own funeral.
I discussed with my partner that my death was a real possibility, and we had to be realistic about my chances.
We talked about the music I might like to have at the service, but I was deteriorating so I could barely speak or formulate my thoughts.
I was given an emergency infusion of a drug originally designed for cancer treatment, and slowly, the bleeding began to stop.
Recovery was brutal. I was housebound, unable to work, and my body – once my greatest strength – had completely failed me. I felt like I’d lost everything.
But I refused to give up. I began reading everything I could about gut health, nutrition, probiotics, and supplements. I wanted to understand what had happened to me.
I started walking short distances, then training lightly. Writing helped too – it became a way to process the trauma.
There is currently no cure for ulcerative colitis, but medicine can help to bring it under control and manage any relapses.
This may include anti-inflammatory drugs, steroids and biologics, which block the proteins that can cause inflammation.
Surgery to remove the large bowel can also be considered. The goal for any treatment is to bring the condition into remission.
‘It breaks you’
Now, I’m 37 and in remission. I work offshore on an oil rig in the North Sea. I’ve written nine books and founded Betrlife Health, a company that creates vitamins for people with gut-absorption issues to help combat fatigue associated with chronic illness.
I’m also proud to be an ambassador for the Crohn’s & Colitis Foundation.
When I look back at all those years of being ignored, I don’t feel angry, but I am frustrated that so little has changed.
We need faster access to gastro specialists, better GP training to recognise red-flag symptoms, and proper mental health support.
I often say this when speaking publicly – when you’re young and told it’s all in your head, it breaks you.
Invisible illnesses like mine are still overlooked. Too many people are dismissed before it’s too late.
Through my advocacy work, I now hear from people all over the world, many living the same nightmare I once did.
Being able to guide them, to listen and reassure them that they’re not alone, has been one of the most healing parts of my journey.
If I could give one piece of advice, it’s this: trust your instincts. Keep a record of your symptoms, how often they happen, how severe they are, and take it to your GP.
If you’re bleeding or in pain, don’t let anyone tell you it’s normal.
Push for answers. Ask for a referral. Keep a record. You know your body better than anyone.
People are often too embarrassed to talk about these illnesses. But the truth is they can destroy lives long before diagnosis.
When I was sick, I promised myself that if I ever got better, I’d make it count.
Now I get to show people there’s life beyond diagnosis, but no one should have to go through what I did. Things must improve.
