Tag Archives: surgery

Happy New September

I’ve bought a new diary and planner. Does anyone else start their year in September rather than January?

You’d think after 10 years I’d be much better at this blogging lark, but low and behold! It’s been another 5 months since I last put digital pen to digital paper. It’s been a busy one and yet another emotional rollercoaster. Buckle up, we’re gonna recap!

In March I was due to have a fourth diathermy laser treatment for my HHT. If you’re new to the blog, you can read all about my superhuman ability to bleed from my nose and mouth at any given moment, here.

I had recently had covid, again you can read about that particular shit show here. And despite knowing this and the fact my PCR test showed positive, I was invited onto the theatre ward. I turned up, mentally and physically prepared for another general anesthetic, only to be told it was a non-starter. It’s difficult all this surgery stuff.

I have to make sure I have adequate time off work. I have to make sure the kids are looked after for a couple of days because the operation wipes me out for a good 48 hours. I have to make sure my mental health is ready to deal with the fact this particular surgery holds very little hope of being 100% successful. To have all of that in order and then be held in a corridor like a leper was pretty crap, to say the least.

My mental health bounced. I lost confidence in my work, having to turn my camera off during meetings all the time, and beginning to feel myself pull away from wanting to go out and do stuff that usually makes me happy.

I referred myself to Talk Liverpool and after a 7-week wait, I was able to access a bunch of online modules to help me improve my mental health and wellbeing. I found some of the coping mechanisms relatively helpful but I really needed to talk to someone. Sadly, this didn’t happen, other than one phone call in which I was told I was ‘showing improvement’ and therefore referred back to my GP. I felt a bit bamboozled by it all really and not at all ‘improved’.

In May I buggered off to Portugal for four days R&R. I only had one nosebleed during that time which is hella surprising (aeroplane aircon, humidity, increased alcohol intake etc) and so I looked at villas and realised very quickly that I had no option but to return home. Damn it!

July was a whirlwind. I started a new job, my boy turned 8 and my mum flew us to Spain for a 14-day family endurance test, I mean holiday!

I’ve never been to mainland Spain in August before. This one warrants it’s own blog post. Sit tight for ‘Benidorm Bitches’ in the coming days.

I’ve had the fourth diathermy laser surgery. It didn’t go well. I came around in recovery and suffered 4-days worth of ‘ocular distortion’. Apparently, this occurs when you don’t fully close your eyes during a GA. On top of not being able to see straight, my nose was back to bleeding again as before, just four days post-surgery.

I’m currently awaiting a clinic review appointment and I can’t lie, I feel really down about it all. I’m back to daily journalling and trying to find a little joy in each day to keep my spirits up.

So here I am. My nose is still goosed, my vascular system is constantly trying to make my life more difficult and I SERIOUSLY need to lose some weight.

On the positive side – my bloody brilliant daughter smashed her GCSE’s and has already started her A Level programme. My middle wonder got a full bill of health in her recent HHT clinic, won a local and national art competition, and has become a fantastic little swimmer. What about the boy wonder I hear you cry? Well, he continues to amaze us all. He learned how to play chess in about 8 minutes flat, has learned how to swim (forward roll, backward roll and handstand in the pool) this summer AND he has enjoyed his first visit to Liverpool PRIDE.

This is what keeps you going, isn’t it? The little things. The smiles, and hugs and daft kitchen dances and good news and seeing friends and family and date nights and lovely dinners and hobnobs and coffee in bed on weekend mornings.

September is the start of a new academic year and for me a chance to renew the promises I made to myself in January. If you’ve any advice or great hacks for staying positive, being more disciplined or limiting those crappy times to maybe just an hour, or half a day when it all seems overwhelming, hit me up on the contact page.

Here’s to ‘keeping on’. Happy New Year.

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Saturday Catch Up

Feeling a bit paranoid this morning. I woke up with a smidge of a sore throat and it’s making me anxious. Can’t help but think it’s due to the tonne of alcohol I necked last night though.

Before anyone worries, I’ve no temperature or cough so I’ve come to work, where I toil on my own for a few hours so I’m also staying safe and not endangering others.

Waiting to get in at work

Tell you what though, four months on, it’s still really scary all this COVID shiz, isn’t it? I try to limit my COVID media consumption otherwise I end up feeling panicky and like I don’t want to let my kids breathe fresh air or see daylight again.

I’m slightly more concerned at present as I’m due to have surgery in a few weeks and the thought of going into hospital, plus the self-isolating period beforehand is making me a little nervous. I’m sure it’ll be fine. I have to take a COVID test four days before the procedure to make sure I’m in tip-top condition, so that’s a weight off.

It’s disappointing to see so many people STILL not wearing masks in my local area. Both Tesco and Aldi seemed to have relaxed their measures. There’s no longer staff on the door encouraging people to mask up and sanitise their hands. People are back to moving your trolley or leaning over you for produce. Again, maybe I’m a bit paranoid but surely it’s better to be safe than sorry?

Just wear a mask, will yer!

I also understand that not everyone can wear a mask, but I doubt very much that accounts for the many I’ve witnessed.

So back to Saturday morning. I’m currently sat outside work waiting for someone to let me in as I’m not a key holder. It’s BOILING out. 19 degrees and cloudy at 7am can take a running joke. Speaking of which, I text my boyfriend last night (after a few glasses of wine) and said: “ isn’t it brilliant sleeping alone when it’s hot”. I’m not sure what he made of that but I think it made some sense.

I woke up this morning with the youngest night ninja sprawled out across my side of my bed!! I don’t know how he does it! My subconscious picks up every moment they turn over on the night so I’ve no idea how he sneaks in. Little beggar.

He read me the ‘Mummy and Me’ forever friends book this morning then proceeded to make me a slice of wholemeal bread, slathered with Philadelphia, for breakfast. He’s gonna make a smashing husband one day, that kid.

Full up with love, I cycled the 2 miles into work and have been sat, sweating on the steps outside waiting to get in ever since. Happy Saturday peeps!

Thunder & Lightning Ice Cream is the one

Prepare for a barrage of blog posts in the next week as a number of art commissions I’ve been working on, officially go public. Plus I’m yet to bore you all with my Scotland trip photos and anecdotes. Nice one Julia!

 

 

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Spare Parts

This weekend I sat in a caravan in North Wales writing about a Barrow in Furness engineering company. This my friends is the future of journalism.

I’ve officially finished 6 months of NCTJ exams and studies and submitted my e-portfolio for marking. In the same week I’ve weathered the EU referendum storm, submitted 12 months worth of personal documents to HMRC who seem to think there is someone else living in my house who claims tax credits and met with Carole, my business mentor, who is hopefully going to help me set up as a freelance journalist.

It’s safe to say I’ve been under a bit of pressure the last few months which may go some way to explain the weekly bouts of sickness I’ve been experiencing. I’m not pregnant, just thought I’d make that abundantly clear. But low and behold, mid Sunday roast yesterday, the mystery illness made an unwelcome return and I’ve been living in the bathroom ever since.

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Despite the crippling stomach pain and inconvenience of living in the bathroom two days a week, the worst thing to come of this situation is my deteriorating relationship with food. I swing wildly from small amounts of granola and ‘safe’ food, to absolutely nothing, to a boneless box from KFC…..and a tango. I’m getting to the point where I’m too scared to eat. During my last week of exams I ate just over 2000 calories in three days because I couldn’t afford to get sick, no where near enough sustenance for a busy mum of three.

I made the HUGE mistake of googling my symptoms around 2am when I got bored of courting the bathroom tiles. Stomach cancer, ulcerative colitis and acute pancreatitis and a tearful call to NHS direct later………..and it looks like my gallbladder is broken. Which isn’t so bad because it turns out you don’t need one!

Awaiting a scan at the moment to see what my options are.

On the positive side I’ve lost almost a stone and my work productivity rate is through the roof. Silver linings eh?

 

 

 

 

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