Do you believe in fairies?

I slept quite well. I woke at 2am and 6am which seems to be becoming my regular times but managed to sleep until 8.30am. A group of ladies decided they were fed up with the hospital breakfast so went down to the restaurant for toast and fried eggs (the 2 things you can't get on the ward). I didn't go with them as I'm quite happy with my scrambled egg and I know that it doesn't upset my tummy.

Tuesdays we have a mini ward round with the registrar, Dr 8 (a new doctor to the ward) and Dr 18. Dr 18 has had enough of waiting for the surgical team to order the MRI scan and has ordered it himself this morning.

Dr 8 spent a long time discussing yesterday's attack, trying to pinpoint the exact location of the pain, the type of pain, the duration, intensity and any possible triggers.

During yesterday's attack Dr 18 did a rectal examination (ie he poked his finger up my bum) and said that the anal sphincters were very, very tight.

Dr 8 wonders if my anal sphincter has been damaged, especially as I am occasionally incontinent at night, something which has only started on the last week or so.

The other theory is that there may be a small collection of fluid in that area pressing on a nerve. If there is then it will show up on the MRI scan. Hopefully I might get some answers soon.

The 3 mental musketeers went for their daily constitutional this morning. I've checked with them and they're happy for me to use their names so I don't have to refer to them as the lady opposite or the lady in D bay anymore.

Here we are, sitting on our bench outside the mental ward, taking a selfie, like a bunch of mentals.

On the left is Sue (lady in D bay) and Julie is in the middle (the lady opposite). We have a right laugh as we do our slow walk. Today Sue was telling us about her 40th party where she had a stripper with a massive willy. Julie told us her mum said that willies look like a babies arm- I had never heard anybody say this and I cracked up. Then they started laughing about me laughing and then we were all laughing.

And so the St Marks walking club has been born. Some of the patients in other bays have asked to join us and my friend down on Fredrick Salmon ward is coming too. I think it's good for us to get off the ward, get some fresh air and some exercise; stops us feeling sorry for ourselves. We set off just after 11am and we get back just before lunch at 12. We don't walk really far but we stop off at the mental bench, as it's now known, and then go to the shops to get the papers etc.

The costa stall today was the marks and Spencer's man selling cheap clothes. I picked up this lovely cardi for my bestie as I thought it would accommodate her growing baby bump. (And Hubby if you're reading this horrified by my daily spending I can assure you it was the same price as a Euromillions ticket, which I also bought. But we could be £92 million pounds richer, so worth spending £2!)

Julie had put some bets on the racing at Cheltenham so she spent the afternoon cheering her horses on. I spent it reading my book- until I fell asleep.

Sue's husband came in to visit her tonight. Everyone eagerly awaits his visits as he brings treats, not just for Sue but for her to share. On Monday he brought in some pick and mix from an 'olde sweetshop'. I don't mean just some pick and mix, it was actually over 5lb of sweets! Everyone takes their polystyrene drinks cup up to Sue's bed and gets a cup of sweeties.

Tonight he had been to his village bakers. He brought in cheese straws, scones (with butter and jam with no pips)

hot cross buns and watercress & cheese scones. I had one of those and they were delicious. So fresh that it just melted in the mouth.

I'm finding that I'm able to tolerate more each day. I'm taking it steady though as I don't want to over load my tummy but that pain is either masked by the increased pain relief or it has settled down. The real concern now is the pain in my arse.

I had a text from Hubby tonight- here it is...

I had arranged with a friend for them to pop round and do a bit of ironing to help Hubby as he's had a lot on recently. Here is the message I sent to my friend...

So thank you Ironing Fairy. You know who you are and you know that the magic you've done for us today is very much appreciated.

NB x

Light at the end of tunnel

I’m sat writing this blog post in St Marks, the specialist bowel hospital in London. So much has happened in the last few weeks; it’s all been a bit of a whirlwind. But I finally feel like there is some hope at the end of the tunnel. Let me tell you why. At the beginning of June I was admitted yet again to QMC in Nottingham with huge amounts of pain, my bowels not working properly and just feeling generally unwell. I had only been home a couple of weeks since the admission in May but I had been feeling so rubbish most of my time had been spent in bed. I had tried everything I could to stay at home but the pain had become so bad I was barely able to stand or take a few steps on my own. I had expected to maybe be in for a week or two to get stronger pain meds and get back on my feet but I ended up being in for almost a month. They put me on morphine injections and ketamine but then stopped them when my heart rate dropped to 30 beats per minute and my breathing to 7 breaths a minute. Th

The light at the end of the tunnel is a train

Last week was a busy and pretty crappy week for me health wise. I had to go and have blood tests done with the nutrition nurses and I had two hospital appointments; one with the gallbladder surgeon in Nottingham and the other with colorectal surgeon at St Marks. I was hoping to have at least one surgery date to write in the diary following these appointments but I came home empty handed on both occasions. Here’s what happened. I began noticing over the last few weeks that I’ve started feeling really crappy. I’m feel lucky to have been at home for the last 6 months and I have been the most well I have been for years but it felt like things had shifted slightly recently but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. But years of being sick means I know my body and I can tell when something isn’t right. I have been feeling permanently exhausted and having way more bad days than good. I’ve gone back to spending 2, 3 or more consecutive days in bed, unable to do anything but watch tv and sleep.

The wrong size line

I’m on the M1 heading back to Nottingham after a road trip to St Marks to get my line repaired. But this is me, and as usual it wasn’t a smooth ride. More like a bloody shit show. So what happened? Let me tell you… After being admitted to QMC in Nottingham on Sunday with a broken Hickman line I was taken down to Interventional Radiology on Monday afternoon to get my line repaired. Firstly, I couldn’t believe it was happening so quickly and secondly I didn’t want to get too excited because, well it’s me, and usually things don’t go according to plan. And sadly I right to rein in the excitement. When the doctor came to consent me for the procedure it was for a replacement, not a repair. I assumed he had made a mistake so I told him I was there to get my line repaired and was definitely not there for a new one. He looked at me and said “I hate to be the bearer of bad news…” and that’s a sentence that never bodes well. He then went on to say that they didn’t have any repair kits and that

More than just a bag lady

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