More than just a bag lady

Last week was half term and I was looking forward to spending some time with the kids. Liddy was flying in from Germany to spend some time with us and Hubby had the Thursday and Friday off work as we were going to Liverpool to visit his brother.  Monday wasn't the greatest start to the week. I woke up feeling very rough, which isn't an unusual occurrence I know but this felt different. And within minutes of being awake I was rushing for the loo where I started throwing up. Before long it was pouring out the other end (worse than it normally does) and I was left feeling shaky and jittery.  Because I had an appointment at St Marks that day I had already arranged for friends to have the kids so at least I didn't have them to look after. But being ill like that meant that there was no way I was going to be able to attend my appointment. Even if I had been able to survive the journey there it wouldn't have been right to go into a hospital with a bug. That's 2 appointment

Today I cooked my first ever joint of beef for Sunday dinner and even made Yorkshire puddings to go with it. I think that I'm becoming more obsessed with food as more weeks pass by that all I can eat is only custard and rice. I'm watching all the cookery programmes, pouring over my Good Food magazines and spend ages doing the food shop online.  The good news is that I have been able to eat a bit of cheese but still not eggs on their own. Strange given the fact that there's eggs I'm custard.  It's soul destroying though to spend ages doing a roast dinner and then sit down at the table with a bowl of rice.  After dinner I fancied something sweet and started doing my cupboard opening routine. This involves me opening all the cupboard doors in the kitchen, staring at what's inside, closing the doors and leaving empty handed. This afternoon I went as far as sniffing the mince pies in the box, hoping that the smell would quell the yearning I had for something sweet. T

Thursday night was the St Marks Gala dinner. My sister and I were honoured to be invited as a result of her fundraising efforts and we decided to take our parents as our 'plus 1's'. I thought it would nice for us to do something all together and a way of thanking them for all their support.  The dinner was being held at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London and was a black tie affair. To be honest, I didn't think I would make it because  when I first received the invitation I had not long been out of hospital. The 23rd October seemed so far away and I couldn't imagine being well enough to go. As the weeks went on my energy levels faded faster than my pink hair and most evenings I was asleep before the kids!  About a month ago I thought I would try my dresses on and found that I couldn't do the zip up on the two evening dresses I have from past events I've attended with Hubby. I took it as a sign that I wouldn't be going. I tried to remain positive and

I read a blog post the other day by Carrie Grant ( the vocal coach) which I shared on my Facebook page . In it she talks about suffering with Crohns (which is a bowel disease like colitis) and about how she suffered with it in her 20's. As I read it one phrase just stuck out and I thought 'Yes! That's exactly it. That's how I feel'. Do you know what it was?  My life is small . That's what this illness has done to me. It's reduced my world, my life and controls so much of it. My life is small. I can't get this phrase out of my mind.  Sitting on the toilet last night I was thinking about it (and I have plenty of thinking time considering how long I spend in the loo!) The best way I can describe it to you is feeling like in living in a box, a bubble, in cotton wool. I've become isolated and being so ill has restricted my everyday life.  I wanted to try and get my thoughts onto paper and I stated scribbling away. Here's what I drew.  The box represen

This hospital stay has been, er, interesting. I was admitted onto Kingsmoore ward last Friday after coming into Princess Alexandra Hospital by ambulance. It was the ward I was on this time last year when I had my very first line infection so I recognised some of the nurses and I was familiar with the ward routines.  Over the weekend Hubby brought the kids up to visit. On Saturday Big Fella was proudly showing off his broken thumb which he earnt after a spectacular save  in his football match earlier that day. On Sunday Big Girl was exhausted from taking part in a night hike with cubs on Saturday and then playing in a football tournament first thing Sunday morning. Hubby was worn out and dreading trying to do homework with the two of them: one unable to write and the other unable to keep their eyes open. I pitied him but wouldn't have wanted to swop with him for all the tea in china as they say.  Over the weekend cannula after cannula tissued so on Sunday they started to use my Hick

I haven't blogged for a while because I've been caught up trying to survive everyday life. By the time I've got up in the morning and got the kids dressed, fed and gathered together all the stuff they need (football, tag rugby and netball kits, flute, swimming and hip hop gear, book bags, water bottles...the list goes on!) then I'm so worn out that I have to go back to bed! Hubby is great at helping out or to be honest it's more me  helping him  to do it all as he's super organised now and has it all under control.  Then I might try to tackle a bit of housework. It might only be a small task like putting a wash on or sweeping the floor but afterwards I feel as though I've ran a marathon and I'm sweating, out of breath and I have to lie down.  Most days I have a nap in the afternoon to recharge my batteries ready for the kids coming home from school. Then it's homework, reading, flute practice and getting ready for whatever clubs they have that evenin