Hitting the shops

Yesterday I think I almost sent Hubby over the edge. I wasn’t feeling too great on Tuesday and stayed in bed all day and then yesterday woke up and vomited. Hubby heard me and came running into the bathroom. I think he wanted to literally pick me up, throw me in the car and rush me back to the hospital because he was frightened it was the beginning of a bowel obstruction. But I had had days like this in hospital where I just wasn’t good and I wanted to go back to bed and ride it out. I promised him though that if I continued to vomit or felt any worse I would tell him and we would go straight in. I think the cause of the sickness was the fact that I had dared to have a cuppa soup the night before and my insides were just registering their protest. Well, it’s been duly noted and I won’t be making that mistake again!

I woke up today feeling a lot better and decided that it would be a good day to take Big Girl for the piercings she wanted doing before holiday. She got her 3rd holes in her lobes and a forward helix pierced (for the second time cause she took the last earring out, forgot to put it back in and it healed over!) If any of you lovely readers are based in Nottingham I highly recommend Punktured Piercing near the arena and wouldn’t go anywhere else now. (I’ve not been paid to say this, it’s just my personal opinion)

As we were so close to the city centre I thought it would be nice to take Big Girl to the shops and get the makeup she was wanting for her birthday. Walking through all the shops was so exciting because I haven’t been to them for soooooo long. Before being in hospital I was too poorly to go out and was also shielding from March 2020 so I was like a kid in a sweet shop. Normally I hate clothes shopping but today I wanted to look around, touch the clothes and treat myself to a few bits for holiday. Since Christmas I’ve lost 3 stone but it didn’t really register until today when I realised I had dropped 4 dress sizes! I ended up getting some bargains in the Monsoon and John Lewis sales but also treated myself to a pair of Fat Face short dungarees which is something I would never have dared to buy when I was bigger. Big Girl loves shopping and having her there with me was so lovely, especially as she carried all the bags so I could save my energy. It wasn’t all plain sailing though- after trying on 8 different items of clothing in John Lewis I thought I was going to collapse in the changing room and needed to have a sit down until the feeling passed. It was a reminder from my body that it’s still weak and just doing a bit of walking around and other normal activities is a strain for me at the moment so I do have to be careful.

Big Girl had a netball match tonight and asked me to go and watch her play. I was absolutely exhausted from shopping but I had an hour in bed and then dragged my arse down to the court. I figured I was already going to be in bed tomorrow with an energy hangover from shopping so I might as well watch her play and just be even more tired tomorrow! Bloody Sod’s law that it was pissing down but I didn’t care- I was just so happy that I was finally able to do the Mum things I’ve missed out on the last few months.

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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