More than just a bag lady

I've had a super busy 24 hours. I'm sat on the train on the way back to Nottingham after a flying visit to London via Cheshunt. I had a hospital appointment this afternoon with the pain physiotherapist at UCLH in London so I thought that I might aswell squeeze in a visit to Cheshunt to catch up with my friends. The fact that it was my birthday also meant that it was too much of an opportunity to miss.  I didn't leave Nottingham until just after 7pm yesterday because there was a meeting at the kids school about the new curriculum and the changes in the way they are assessed. What those kids are expected to know, understand and be able to regurgitate on their SATs exam papers is just ridiculous now. Big Girl is doing maths that I wasn't introduced to until secondary school and that I now have to google to refresh my memory! After the meeting I rushed home, packed an overnight bag and hooked up before getting a cab to the station. I decided to travel whilst having my TPN s

There's nothing worse than a Doctors receptionist who insists you tell her what is wrong with you. I take that back. There is. When she asks you in front of all the other patients in the waiting room.  I know most of us have experienced this and at my new surgery I loved how this old guy handled it. He must have been in his 70's and the waiting room was pretty full when he walked in. He approached the desk and the receptionist asked him what he needed to see the doctor for that day.  "There's something wrong with my dick" he told her.  The receptionist looked shocked and told him that he shouldn't say things like that in a crowded waiting room. "Why not? You asked me what was wrong and I told you" was his reply.  The receptionist became irritated and told him that he had embarrassed the other patients waiting and should have said there was something wrong with his ear or similar and then discussed the real reason with the doctor in private. The guy l

I haven't even got 2015 finished and out of the way before I'm already having to think about 2016. The joys of juggling three different hospitals and multiple consultants and clinics means I already have appointments stacking up for next year. Eleven appointments already to be precise. So I decided that I would have to bite the bullet and buy my 2016 diary. (Talking of bullets, I hear on the grapevine that Santa might be bringing me a Nutribullet and I am a tad excited about it. Sad, I know. But still, excited I am.) Normally a diary is something that Hubby would get me for my birthday and even though it's only next week I don't feel as though I can wait any longer.  Having appointments and other plans without being able to write them in a dairy is driving me mad for a few reasons.  One: if they don't get written down in the proper place then I am liable to forget about them completely. Two: I need to make sure I'm not double booking myself. Three: I'm an OC

Warning: this post covers my latest bout of diahorrea and sickness and should not be read whist eating or if you gag easily.  You've been warned.  Okay.  So don't blame me if you read on and then are put off your breakfast/lunch/dinner/snack etc  Feeling brave? Then let's do this! I have spent the last 5 days being sick, having some terrible bowel motions (and that's saying something coming from me!) and generally feeling like crap. It started on Wednesday night when I began feeling a bit, how can I describe it? Bleugh. Yuck. Crappy. That's not unusual for me anc I thought I was tired after having met a friend for lunch. But when I woke up on Thursday I knew something was brewing. My whole body ached and after taking the kids to school I came back and spent the next 6 hours on the sofa. I didn't get up for a drink or anything to eat and in the back of my mind I was beginning to worry that it was an infection brewing. All the classic signs were there- feeling cra

This morning I've come to have some blood tests done.  The main reason is because I've been suffering from the most horrid and debilitating sweats and hot flushes. It doesn't have to be warm and I don't need to be rushing about to end up coming over all hot and dripping with sweat. It's got so bad that I have to carry a flannel everywhere with me to wipe down my face. I'm panicking that I'm going through 'the change'. ( Make sure you avert your eyes and whisper this phrase. One cannot be seen to be talking about such vulgar things in public 😉)  And no, before you say anything, I'm not that old but since my operations my periods have been very erratic so maybe I'm going through it early or maybe it's as  my  doctor thinks. He says that the sweats are a side effect of my medication. But I've been having them for months now and to be honest I'm really getting fed up of them. It's embarrassing to be in a shop and suddenly start d