I’ve had a UTI every three months for 40 years – including one that nearly killed me. I was gaslit by doctors, it affected my sex life and left me distraught. Now, aged 45, I’ve finally found a solution…

Standing in the middle of a Brussels sprout field in Norfolk, I felt a familiar twinge of pain.

Immediately realising what was happening, I cursed quietly to myself. I knew there was ­nothing I could do.

I was filming my TV show, Inside The Factory, and I had to get to Oxford for a friend’s wedding. There was no question I urgently needed antibiotics, but it was a weekend, I was miles from home, and there was no access to a GP.

Once again, I had a urinary tract infection, or UTI, that was about to ruin my week and – on this occasion – almost kill me… My entire life has been punctuated by the agonising pain of UTIs. My first one was apparently aged three, and during adulthood they’ve reared up around four times a year, sometimes more, sometimes one after another.

Now aged 45, I have found a solution that’s working for me, and I’m finally speaking out about the subject because I can’t believe how women are simply left to suffer, completely ­dismissed, needing antibiotics time and again, ending up in hospital, or even – and this isn’t hyperbole – so driven to distraction by the pain and frequency, they try to take their lives.

A 2021 Australian study showed almost one in ten patients with a chronic UTI had thought about suicide or even planned or made an attempt.

I joke about UTIs, calling them an annoying, lifelong friend. But in reality there is nothing at all funny about them. We’ve always been taught that the relevant body parts should stay hidden, but the cursory dismissal and the shame that women are made to feel about UTIs makes me rage.

Besides, I’m so used to them that I’m just not embarrassed any more.

A UTI generally occurs when harmful bacteria – usually E.coli – enter the urinary tract. If you’ve had one, you’ll know that symptoms include that classic sensation of peeing daggers, the desperate need to pee, lower abdominal pain and a feeling of general unwellness.

They are staggeringly common. Around half of all women in the UK will have a UTI at least once in their lifetime, and up to 1.7 million suffer with chronic or persistent infections.

By the age of 16, one in ten girls and one in 30 boys have had one (the female body has a shorter urethra – the tube from the kidneys – making it more prone to UTIs than the male body).

Incontinence increases with age, especially during perimenopause and beyond, when hormonal changes affect the vaginal microbiome (the balance of bacteria) and the skin thins. In older people, a UTI can be very dangerous; in 2022/23, there were almost 150,000 hospital admissions with a UTI – more than half of them over 65. They are the leading cause of ­sepsis in women.

There is a myth that they are linked to poor hygiene, but a UTI is not caused by ‘being dirty’ – I am extremely clean!

It’s true that we need to be aware of the importance of wiping front to back, but there are many reasons for developing them, and I do everything to mitigate the risk, like drinking lots of water and wearing natural fabrics.

One of my first childhood memories – or perhaps it’s a series of memories blurring into one – is being in my nightie in our house in Suffolk, terrified to go to the loo because it was so painful, and telling my mother. I was sent for tests, but as far as I’m aware there was no obvious cause, so I was just sent on my merry way. The message has always been that it’s ‘just’ a UTI, and to put up with them.

From then on, the severity and occurrence has ebbed and flowed, increasing as I headed into my 30s. As I say, on average, I have had one every three months for 40 years.

I’m also a working mother of two children. I’m freelance and often juggling five or six projects simultaneously, frequently filming for hours at a time in locations where it’s not ­possible to be constantly drinking lots of water. In fact, my entire lifestyle – filming, travelling and attending events isn’t great for my natural biology. I can be standing at a party, having had a few drinks and suddenly realise I’ve got an infection on its way.

For me, UTIs are at best inconvenient and painful, at worst life-threatening. The only thing that has worked are antibiotics, which I must have taken well over 100 times. This is troubling in itself; they aren’t great for your gut, and there’s increasing concern about antibiotic resistance, which is, of course, extremely serious.

On the occasion mentioned before, when I was 28, I finished filming and went to Oxford. I drank loads of cranberry juice – said to head off an early UTI if you drink enough of it, though in fact that’s not true – lots of water, and took painkillers. Nothing worked, and I could feel it getting worse. As the stabbing pain intensified, I spent the entire wedding rehearsal dinner trying not to break down and burst into tears.

At the wedding the next day, I started shivering and felt delirious. I somehow got back to London, but the following morning I thought I was going to die. There’s a strange calmness that comes over you at this sort of time. I think the pain was so bad, I was beyond fear. Perhaps my brain was just busy trying to keep me alive.

My flatmate took one look at me and hauled me to A&E. They gave me a bed immediately, but I was too unwell to speak and hallucinating, so nobody knew what was wrong. Then a nurse turned me over and I screamed with the pain. ‘Oh my God,’ she said. ‘It’s a kidney infection.’

I was instantly hooked up to powerful antibiotics and kept in hospital for a week. I was told I was hours away from developing sepsis. Infection was raging through my body. I don’t remember much about it to be honest – for three days I was barely conscious – but I do remember everyone suddenly taking it very seriously. I don’t think I really understood what sepsis was.

Afterwards, I was left with severe scarring on my kidneys, but no ­follow-up advice or further consultation – I was just told to be careful in the future and sent on my way. Yes, that’s extraordinary, but those ­medics had saved my life.

In fact, I left hospital and went home to Hammersmith, west London, where I cheerfully ordered a pizza. Then I ‘simply’ had to manage my UTIs for the next 20 years.

So I’ve got used to them being part of my life, like a headache or period pain. You know, if you’re a woman, you don’t make a huge fuss. You take the medication (if you’re even believed and given the antibiotics, which is a whole circus on its own), you don’t whine and you get on with things.

Yet it’s astonishing that UTIs aren’t prioritised. I’ve been dismissed as ‘non-urgent’ so many times, but as every woman who’s had one knows, you’re in so much pain, you can’t do anything – and you know it’s likely to get worse.

It’s unbeliev­ably frustrating to have a GP say, ‘give it a couple of days and see how it goes’, which they so often do, as if this time you’ll magically clear the infection you have never cleared before without drugs.

‘I’ll be seeing you in A&E,’ I think to myself.

Everything I do is planned around trying to avoid getting a UTI, including sex, which moves bacteria around. If I’ve a big event or a long-haul flight, I try everything to avoid it – or potentially pay the price the next day.

It’s never caused tension in relationships because I am pretty good at managing my calendar. I just won’t be available that night.

I’ve done this all my life, but when I say it out loud, it does seem strange not to have a nice time with my partner the night before going away. The fact is, it’s never been an option. It’s how I have had to run my life.

In my 30s, I had two babies and was flying to and from the US for a few years for a project. I recall sitting on a flight to LA not long after my youngest was born, in business class, not drinking alcohol, drinking lots of water and wearing breathable clothes.

I’d done everything I could to mitigate the risk – except I’d broken my ‘no sex before a flight’ rule. I was about to pay the price.

As I was watching a film, out of nowhere I got a raging UTI. I sat there for another six hours, ­feeling worse and worse. There was nothing I could ask the staff for; pain relief, as I well knew, wouldn’t touch the sides.

My nightmare didn’t end on arrival. I asked one of the airport staff whether I could go to the front of the queue for immigration because I had a terrible bladder infection, but she refused. All I could do was breathe through the pain. It was traumatic.

Have I cried? Countless times, sitting on the loo knowing that I have to go to work; in pharmacies in Rome, in the US, in the UK…

I hosted a five-hour awards ceremony last year and had just put on my gown when I recognised the beginnings of a UTI. I called my GP and asked whether a ­prescription might be sent to the local pharmacy. They simply didn’t believe me. In the end I burst into tears – for the millionth time – and begged until they reluctantly agreed to send a prescription. It’s a special kind of hell. Now, I carry antibiotics everywhere with me, just in case. I’ve had to tell half-truths to acquire a stash. There is a scheme where you can have them prescribed by a pharmacist after filling out an online form, which I thought would be a lifesaver, but for me – with my long history and frequent prescriptions – it doesn’t work.

A year and a half ago I decided to take matters in hand. I had a week working from home, so I contacted my GP to get a referral for more investigations. They said I had to do a urine test. I explained that I didn’t have a UTI at the time, but they insisted. When it came back negative 24 hours later, they rang and said no action needed to be taken.

I felt so angry, after a lifetime of frustration and being dismissed.

A day later I did have one, and the GP was cross with me for bothering them again. The sense was that I was wasting their time, making a fuss. Why – at 43 – would I make up a UTI? Presumably, he could see on my record how often I’ve had them in the past.

I said to him: ‘You know how women get accused of being angry when they’re older? I have to go and film for 15 hours and most of it standing up. You have to give me antibiotics.’ And do you know what he said, begrudgingly? ‘Just this once, I’ll prescribe the antibiotics.’ As though he was doing me a favour rather than giving me urgent medication that would stop me dying from sepsis. Thank you for treating me like a five-year-old.

Furious, I did an Instagram post about my experience, explaining exactly what had happened. It had almost two million views. I have never seen a response like it.

It attracted nearly 3,000 comments, and my messages box was like a tidal wave, overflowing with similar experiences; women who’d been gaslit for decades, who’d had to fight with their GPs and had even tried to take their lives because of relentless pain.

The NHS has done excellent campaigns about sepsis. How about dealing with a leading cause of it in women? Indeed, how about trying to help women like me stop the endless cycle of ­crippling UTIs altogether?

Yes, there’s a prescription-only oral treatment called Hiprex which creates a hostile environment in the bladder so the ­bacteria can’t flourish. I’ve thought about this, but a friend has found it makes her feel sick and it can cause stomach pain, so it’s not the right solution for me.

That’s why I researched and launched my own Utee supplements with the company Extracted. I decided I had to find a solution for me. I wanted something science-based, and something I would personally take.

We’ve created two supplements, with ingredients all backed up by clinical data. First, there are one-a-day probiotic capsules – Utee Protect – that help to restore healthy flora and reduce infections by crowding out the harmful bacteria. These also ­contain cranberry extract, which can stop E.coli from sticking to the bladder wall.

The second is the Utee Clear sachets, which support the ­urinary tract during the earliest signs of a flare-up; you take one sachet a day, but can take up to three during a flare-up.

D-mannose (2,500mg) is a sugar that stops E.coli from sticking to the bladder lining, allowing it to be flushed out with urine, and sodium bicarbonate helps to slightly raise the urinary pH to reduce discomfort.

Since creating and taking Utee, I’ve not had one UTI. That’s nine months – a record for me.

When I had a twinge, I took the Utee Clear Sachets and it didn’t develop into a full-blown UTI.

Even if you don’t get them as much as I did, I feel every woman should have a pack in their ­cupboard, though remember – as with any other supplement – if you have other medical conditions, check with your healthcare professional before taking them.

If I make it UTI-free for a year, I’ll probably throw a party.

I know it might seem strange that I’m talking about this. I don’t need to. But I am angry that I’ve had to suffer so unnecessarily for so long, and that there are ­millions out there still living with them.

Now, I finally feel as though I’m getting my life back.

• One set of Utee supplements costs from £39.99, extracted.co.uk
• As told to Alice Smellie