The 8th & 9th; I almost match.

The 8th of July.

So, so tired.

I didn’t fall asleep until about 3 this morning because my arm hurt and I couldn’t get in a comfortable position and the sheets were a mess. Then I was woken up at 7 for my breakfast of toast, marmalade and coffee. I asked the nurses for my Tramadol, because the codeine did fuck all, and found that helped enough for me to be able to bend my arm, brush my teeth and sort out my bed a bit.

Anne had said I could go without seeing her, but I wanted to see what she thought of my arm today and find out what we were to do regarding dressings. She appeared at quarter to twelve, with Mommy and the nurse, which was excellent timing. She took off the bandages, peeled the sleeve down, then removed all the Mepores, trying not to tear my skin. It looks pretty amazing! It looks best immediately post-surgery, then the swelling will go up, but both arms looked nearly identical! And all the compression has alleviated some of the bruising. The nurse gave all the wounds that needed it a clean, then applied new dressings before putting a new sleeve on. So everything is good! I see Fiona the nurse next week, Julie in six weeks, and Anne in September. Then we just had to wait for pharmacy to send up my TTOs and it doesn’t seem to matter if it’s an NHS or a private hospital, they still move at a glacial pace.

I almost match. I’m so happy.

The 9th of July.

Sleep was good. I lay on top of the sheet with my arm on a pillow and managed to stay there until a reasonable time. The arm was less painful, so I think that helped.

I have done very little today. This morning, we watched Christine mace-bear at a graduation ceremony over live stream, then we caught up on the Taskmaster finale that we missed while we were away.

Sarah came back with Dolly, who despite having a lovely time at the cattery, scratched Sarah and wet herself when it came to having to get in the carrier. Poor thing. She has gone straight under the chair.

We had lunch, then I sat with Dolly all afternoon, crocheting and watching Zootropolis. She has not emerged, just like Boris. Suddenly my trip to the Houses of Parliament on the 18th has become even more interesting. 

The 6th & 7th; She removed a whole litre of fat.

The 6th of July.

Ah, home again, where the water from the tap tastes good.

Up very early because we left before half past eight. First, we drove to Ipswich to drop off Christine at the station there, then we continued for three and a half hours to home. My back was horrific.

We got here just before one, so we had time to pee and have a drink before Mommy and I went to The Spire for my cross-match. The receptionist sent me to the wrong place, so we wasted twenty minutes waiting for someone who wasn’t coming. Thankfully, a member of staff was helpful, and suddenly everything happened very quickly. I went to the right place, and the woman in charge came to apologise profusely and make sure shit got done. A nurse came to get me, and she’d bleeped a doctor to bleed me. He had to have two goes, but he got what we needed. On the way out, we were stopped by the manager again, who qoffered us free coffee and cake! We said yes please, because we hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and it was delicious.

We stopped at M&S on the way home to buy some dinner, then this afternoon, I have had my first Hibiscrub shower (I have to have another one in the morning) and a hairwash. Having to blow dry one’s hair in this weather is awful.

I do hope I sleep tonight.

The 7th of July.

Liposuction day!

I am exhausted, swollen, oozy and sore.

I got up early to try and drink loads of water before I had to be nil by mouth at 11. We got to The Spire at about twenty past, and someone from the ward came to get me and take me to my room. It was a slightly nicer version of an NHS cubicle room – pretty much the same, but I could lock my cupboard and I had a wardrobe. Fancy.

A nurse came to admit me and do blood pressure, sats and get a urine sample. Then they sent the doctor I saw yesterday to try and get some more blood from me because they were unhappy with the group and save from then. Unfortunately, my veins did not want to cooperate, and after two tries he decided he would let the anaesthetist try in theatre when they put my cannula in.

The anaesthetist himself, Gerwyn, came to see me next and we talked about all the boxes I had ticked on the form (he thinks I probably did break the record). We discussed the regional block, the risks, what else we might need to do. It all sounded very promising so that was grand and off he went. Then we just had to wait for Anne!

She came just after two o’clock and drew all over my arm to show where she was going to go in (basically everywhere), took some pictures for comparison, then I signed the consent form and it was time to go!

In the anaesthetic room, Gerwyn had two attempts at the cannula, unfortunately settling on the vein in the underside of my wrist, although he did put some local anaesthetic in first so it wasn’t as uncomfortable. Couldn’t get any blood but it was unlikely that I’d need a transfusion so nevermind. Then he ultrasounded around my collarbone to find the nerves he wanted to use to make my arm numb. We had to wait for it to kick in, then he started spraying me with the cold spray and poking me with a blunt needle to see what I could feel. Turns out a brachial block can’t numb the inside of the upper arm or the back of it, so they would try and get some local infiltration in theatre.

When we went in, I asked if we were going to do a Who, which they all found very amusing because nobody had ever asked that before, then they asked if I would lead it, so I did! I was prepped, made all clean, some leg massagers were attached to my calves to prevent me from getting another DVT, and a screen was erected in front of my face to keep the sterile and non-sterile areas separate. That was annoying, because I had wanted to watch. However, they asked if I wanted any music to entertain me, so I requested Death Cab. They were unsure until they heard it, and then they realised they are lovely so we just listened to them for two hours while Anne hoovered all the extra fat out of my arm. The noise is like a combination of an electric toothbrush and a drill. And in the places where it wasn’t numb and the local anaesthetic wasn’t reaching, it felt like she was shoving a long drill bit in and out of my arm. It was painful enough to get past just clenching my jaw – I screwed up my face a bit and even emitted an “Ow.” That means it is bad. If you are planning on having liposuction ever, I would recommend making sure you can be entirely numb, and if you can’t, be asleep. It’s not pleasant. When she was finished, all the little holes got stitched up, then covered in Mepore dressings. My entire arm is Mepore. Then, they had to try to get a compression garment over the top without messing up all the dressings. I had a quick look, and she was not kidding about the bruising. It’s rather dramatic. That was tricky, but they did a reasonable job. Blood and fluid has oozed out through it constantly since then, and it’s supposed to carry on until tomorrow evening. I’m not supposed to change the dressings for ten days, but I can’t see how they’ll still be viable even after tomorrow. I’ll ask Anne when she comes round in the morning.

When it was all done, at about quarter to five, I was taken to recovery, where we saw the very end of the football (It’s coming home!) and everybody told me how well I’d done. Anne said it went really well, and she removed a whole litre of fat. A litre! Even she didn’t expect there to be that much. After about half an hour and a much needed glass of water, I was taken back to the ward.

Here, I have had to do everything one handed, because my right arm was useless until about 9. I can flop it about, like Harry Potter does when Gilderoy Lockhart magics away his bones. I managed to get my phone out of the cupboard and ring Mommy, so she could come and see me because she wanted to. Then I rang Christine to tell her how it had gone, because it was easier than texting. I was brought the sandwich I’d ordered before surgery and some coffee, which happily did not taste like garbage. I was so hungry but it’s hard to eat an egg mayo sandwich with only one hand. Mommy arrived, I told her all that had happened, and she helped me sort out the sheets and shuffle myself up the bed. She left at about twenty past seven, and I lay and waited for my arm to come back to me, sending her a video every time the mobility moved up the arm a bit. By 9, I had regained most of the movement and sensation. It’s got its cons though – now I can feel again, I’m aware that it is quite achy. Will ask the nurses for some codeine, see if that helps. Then I will try to go to sleep. Not feeling optimistic.

The 9th & 10th; It still feels like I am sitting on a cushion of jelly.

The 9th of January.

Well it’s been a curious day. I had to get up at quarter past five to ensure I had time to drink a litre of water before 6am, from which I had to be nil by mouth.

We arrived at about quarter to seven, and had to wait outside the Short Stay Wellcome Unit until someone let us and the two nurses without working passes in. Then we sat in the waiting room and watched Good Morning Britain until someone came to take me to my bedspace.

I was in the corner of the room – it used to be the ICU when it was the main hospital, so the bedspaces are massive and it means I am not crammed next to loads of people. I have been here before but we can’t remember what on earth for.

Mr. Titley came to see me, and he ran through once again what was going to happen. Examination under anaesthetic, possibly biopsy, possibly smear, possibly photographs. In the end, none of those things happened, just the exam. I signed the consent form, and off he went. Then I met with the anaesthetist, Dr. Allan, who was very nice, as all anaesthetists are. We talked about why he didn’t want to knock me out – same as Dr. Thompson, in that I’d end up stuck in ICU and if they ever did wake me up, my lungs would be in worse shape than they were going in which we can’t have. He had to talk me through all the risks of epidurals and regional blocks etc, which I was happy to take, then he went away and I finished being admitted by the nurse.

Miss Byrom wasn’t expected to arrive until about ten, so I didn’t get changed until twenty to, and I’d not been ready long when a porter came to get me so my timing was impeccable. I started off in the little anaesthetic room, where the trainee anaesthetist got stuck up against a valve in my wrist, so Dr. Allan had to stick the cannula in halfway up my forearm. I needed it so they could give me a bit of antibiotics and fluid so there was a balance against the spinal injection when he did it. When it came to that time, I had to sit with my legs over the edge of the bed, and hunch over my pillow on my lap. I got sprayed with super cold cleaning spray all over my back, then there was a small amount of local which felt the same as always, and then he did the regional block injection which I didn’t feel at all. All I noticed was a spreading feeling of warmth from my bum downwards, which was sort of nice but also disarming. I could move my legs to get them back on the bed, then I had to wait for them to get heavy before we could do anything more. I didn’t expect the sensation to be so acute – despite my brain knowing that I have the muscle strength to move my legs, I physically could not lift them, not even using my arms. It is absolutely bizarre.

At that point, we could move through to theatre, where my legs were put in the stirrups, and nine strangers got to see my vagina. That was interesting, because I could see them being flopped about into different positions, but I had no feeling at all; it was like they were broken, like they belonged to someone else. Then my vagina got sprayed with the cold spray to test if I could feel anything, which I could not, so they were able to begin. As far as I could tell, Miss Byrom tore through the adhesions again, then there was just a lot of shoving – I was aware of pressure, but no pain. It is entirely scarred, so no biopsy would tell us anything, and Mr. Titley cannot do any surgery to help. It took them about 20 minutes of shoving and looking to decide this, then some packing and a catheter were put in, and they started discussing what might be done next. It sounds like I’m going to end up with some kind of custom made silicone dilator but we will have to see. Emails must be sent.

Once covered up, I was taken to recovery, where I got a hot blanket which was so beautifully toasty, and we waited for my theatre notes so I could come back to the ward. And here I have sat since twelve, waiting for the anaesthetic to wear off and the catheter to come out. I have had coffee and a panini, and can move my legs independently again, which is nice. It still feels like I am sitting on a cushion of jelly, five hours later, but the catheter is out and I’m hoping to be able to pee in the next half an hour so I can then go home.

For all the NHS crisis talk, you wouldn’t know it here. I have been taken care of wonderfully, they are showing no signs of stress and I haven’t got angry at anyone.

The 10th of January.

I was woken up by Mommy telling me she had to go to Grandma’s because she was being taken into hospital. The cough she seemed to be incubating has definitely matured into a nasty chest infection and as the day has gone on, she has had tests and been admitted to have IV steroids and antibiotics while being on 5 litres of oxygen. That’s more than I was using even when my lung collapsed so she is really quite unwell. Apparently the doctor was not exactly optimistic.

My day has been a pretty quiet one, as one would expect the day after surgery. I was supposed to be going to a clinic at St. Giles but I cancelled that – I’m not sure how productive it would have been, and we’ve agreed I’ll reschedule once I’ve had my fancy MRI.

I had a couple of other phone calls; one with Adam from Black Sheep about my hair colour, one with the eye department at the QE to sort out an appointment, one with Lucy from Anthony Nolan to discuss press for Still Standing, and one with a lady who is going to come and view the kittens on Friday.

Speaking of them, I watched some more of Big Little Lies with them asleep in my arms. I’m almost reluctant to allow their adoption!

The 7th & 8th; Thought I’d skip the pain.

The 7th of January.

Today I have been a much more comfortable temperature. Put the cashmere socks and Uggs on to begin with, and a polo neck Superdry jumper that is warm but REALLY ITCHY.

This morning I watched Aisling on Sunday Brunch while I wrote about yesterday (didn’t have time before dinner last night) and put together the bear I made the parts of already.

I got kicked out of the living room at the end of the show because Grandma came for lunch and seemed to be brewing a cough of some description. Can’t have me catching that days before surgery.

I ate lunch with everyone, just sat at the opposite end of the table to Grandma. Then I was back in the kitten room for the rest of the afternoon. They slept on my lap, and occasionally they woke up to watch terrible films on the Sony Movie channel. Godzilla from 1998 which is just hilarious, especially considering how scared of it I used to be, and S.W.A.T. which is action movie nonsense. I left them when I ran out of water. Fluids are more important than relaxed kittens.

The 8th of January.

It has not been quite as chilly today, thankfully. I stayed in my pyjamas this morning, as after I wrote up my blog post, I took off all my nail varnish prior to surgery tomorrow, then I went to have a big exfoliate and moisturising session for the same reason.

I decided to do all the moisturising in my bedroom, after last time – I stayed sitting up for too long with no support and it was excruciating to the point where my only instinct was to get to my bedroom and lie down. I thought I’d skip the pain this time.

After lunch, I sat with the kittens for a bit and watched Big Little Lies until Now TV had some sort of small fit and stopped working. I saw the first two and a half episodes. I really like all the houses.

Tonight I’ve got to make a list of stuff to take to hospital tomorrow and make sure I get an early night. I’ve got to bed up in time to drink a litre of water before 6am or my veins’ll be shit and after that time, I’m nil by mouth, despite me not having any sedation, let alone a general anaesthetic.

The 21st & 22nd; I knew it was bad, but not that bad.

The 21st of November.

Well I had a great start to my day, securing tickets for Sadie and I to go and see My Dad Wrote A Porno Live! Super excited for that, and we have great seats too.

I was at the chiro at 10:45, and that was surprisingly painful. The angry tendon that runs up the whole right side of my spine was very unhappy as soon as Trine touched it. Still, I am seeing Dr. Blaney tomorrow. Pray for steroid injections.

This afternoon, I planned to do a bit of looking at Christmas present ideas, but I got started on some crochet and just haven’t put it down. I’ve also been waiting for the pharmacist at Boots to ring, but they haven’t. They were supposed to be calling because my spare compression garments have arrived after waiting for two weeks, only to find the person on duty ordered the wrong thing. They have the code of the product but are apparently incompetent at using the information provided. Bad enough when the GP prescribes the wrong thing but when they have all the information and still fuck up…I don’t know. Gah.

The 22nd of November.

A slightly less productive day at hospital than I had hoped for, but that was more due to a misunderstanding on my part rather than anything that happened there. It emerged that the appointment with the anaesthetic team that had appeared on myhealth was not with the pain team, it was the one I had as part of the pre-assessment clinic. And having checked again, I don’t actually have another appointment booked in with Dr. Blaney, so we’ll be ringing his secretary tomorrow.

This did mean my visit was rather more straightforward. First I saw one nurse who did my height, weight and blood pressure. Then a sister called Kat, and we had to talk through my whole history, all my medications, what I’m allergic to, what I’m having done, and she gave me the pre-surgery checklist of things I have to do or not do in the hours preceding the procedure. I then went for bloods, but my veins didn’t want to cooperate, so I went to see the anaesthetist and drink a lot of water to pump up my veins. Had a very long conversation with him, mainly about my lung function, the pneumothorax and the pneumonia. He mentioned that my lung function is only 23% of what it ought to be, which was a surprise. I knew it was bad, but not that bad. Wow. Anyway, my lung function is not important because I’m having a regional block, which is like an epidural but it’s just one injection. I had to try to explain why I need to be examined in this situation but I’m not sure how much it made sense. That was all fine, so then I returned to the phlebotomist and she got some blood out of the side of my wrist. Then home!

 

The 7th, 8th & 9th; I didn’t scream or even flinch.

The 7th of November. 

Feeling less shit today – no murdery dreams and my muscles are not so sore, so overall generally better. 

This morning, I wrote up a blog post while shouting at the Tory voices on Victoria Derbyshire. Eventually, I had to put on an episode of Bones because I was getting my blood pressure up. Then I put together the final gnome and took some photos of them all together. Now they’re sitting on the mantelpiece, having a lovely time. 

After lunch, I started work on the next Christmas project, but didn’t get much done before Ann and Tom, the couple interested in Callie and Carlton arrived. They pretty much immediately fell in love with them, as I expected. They are just too gorgeous to not adore. They’re going to change the kittens’ names to Molly and Bertie, so we’ll have to get used to calling them that. Plus they’ve given us blankets for them to get used to/put their smell on. 

After they left, I tried ringing the GP again to talk to this secretary who’s been trying to talk to me. I rang this morning, but she wasn’t available so I was told she’d ring back. When I tried again, she’d left. So then I talked to the team leader who did some investigating, but couldn’t get to the bottom of it. She’ll try again tomorrow, and maybe I’ll eventually find out what they want!

The 8th of November. 

Well, local anaesthetic in the eyelid is, much like most of the local injections I’ve had, not that bad. The only distressing local in the past was for the bronchoscopy, but that was for more psychological reasons than physical. 

Anyway. I was up just before six, because we had to be at the QE for eight. I was first on the list, which I was pleased about. I met Mr. Kolli before going into theatre, and we had a brief chat before he drew an arrow on my forehead so they didn’t do the wrong eye. Then I didn’t have to wait long for the theatre to be ready, so I put on my gown (over my clothes) and shower cap and went to lie down. 

A nurse put some music on (classical, disco, La La Land, Sinead O’Connor) and poured what felt like a gallon of two different strengths of anaesthetic drops in, with a tissue at the side to stop them escaping. Another nurse took her place, and I was given his hand to hold while Mr. Kolli injected the local into my lower eyelid. They both warned me about how awful it would be, so I was surprised to find it really wasn’t so terrible. Not that it was pleasurable, but I didn’t scream or even flinch, which he can’t remember witnessing with any previous patients. Brave Kathryn strikes again. 

Finally got round to zapping the rogue five lashes, and I didn’t feel a thing. So now they’re gone. I have antibiotic ointment to do four times a day (along with all my other drops) and I sported a very fetching eye patch until half past one. We’ll see if it has held off the bruising tomorrow. 

The 9th of November. 

This morning was arduous and long and frustrating. First was lung function. For the first time since I was at the children’s hospital, I had to get in the box (see photo below). Same tests, just different room/equipment. They took forever, it seemed, partly because I had to do one of them four times, plus she had to get some blood from me and it all just added up. Knackering. Then I saw Dr. Thompson, and he was not full of joy. The numbers are the worst he’s ever seen (for me), which is what I was expecting. We compared some x-rays from now and last year, and it is quite clear that the right lung has shrunk and the chest wall has sunk in, so I have less volume and the way I feel now is the new baseline. Great. 

Got out of there about half eleven, so just had time to get some coffee before going to see Andrew. That was a very confusing chat. It seems the lymphoscintigram actually showed that the right side works better than the left, because the lymphatic system is compensating for the rubbish venous flow. So now he wants an MRI with gadolinium so we can get a definitive picture of my anatomy. Which will require careful booking because he or a colleague will need to be there. JOY. And even when we know what is going on where, what we do is still up in the air because so many things could go wrong. Numbness, he cannot fix, but can sort out another MRI for that and refer me for nerve conduction studies. 

I don’t make any sense. 

The 22nd & 23rd; Small victories.

The 22nd of October. 

Inside my elbow hurts so much. I didn’t have the compression garment on yesterday because Mommy wasn’t in and I wasn’t going to teach Daddy how to put it on. So today it’s been back on again and oh god it is so tight. I just need to keep it on; I’ll get used to it again.

Similar day to yesterday. Good night. Mostly crochet, in my chair. Watched Sunday Brunch, did a blog post. Won’t be watching next week, not unless I’m desperately bored. Just nobody of interest on at all. 

Crocheting something for a different project – can’t carry on with Heidi’s until the extra wool arrives. What I’ve worked on today might have to be done again, depending on the size of the next part I make. It’s a complicated equation involving different wools and hook sizes. 

Last night we ate the ciabatta and focaccia. The brioche got baked today but sort of got accidentally cremated so they haven’t been so good. Have to try that again and watch the oven a bit more closely. 

The 23rd of October. 

Well, tomorrow is off. It’s so frustrating. 

I spent my morning waiting for Michelle, Mr. Titley’s secretary, to phone me to tell me what exactly need to do tomorrow. I was going to give her until eleven, then ring her, but at 10.55 my phone rang. It was Stella, Dr. Richter, the immunologist’s, secretary. She was calling to offer me a cancellation appointment tomorrow afternoon, which I had to pass on because I didn’t expect to feel up to it. I then rang Michelle, and she told me that actually, they weren’t sure if tomorrow could go ahead, because I haven’t seen Dr. Richter yet. How fucking ironic. She said she needed to talk to Mr. Titley to know for sure, and she’d ring me back.

When she did, it was with bad news. No surgery. They booked me in with the hope that they’d know what was happening with my white cells by now. But we don’t. So she’s going to book me in for his next pre-screening clinic on the 22nd of November, when he comes back from holiday. 

I rang Stella back in the vain hope she hadn’t found someone else for the appointment. Of course, she had, and then I got a bit upset and explained how nothing I need doing can move forward until I see Dr. Richter. She agreed to try and squeeze me in it she could, and I left it with her, not feeling hopeful. But sometimes I can be surprised. I think a slot has been made for me at the start of the clinic, because I’m booked in for 2pm. Small victories.

The 18th & 19th; There was so much pain as it ripped away from the skin inside.

The 18th of November.

Today has not gone at all how I expected. Up at half past five, at the Women’s by half seven. Mommy came up to the ward with me (mainly because I couldn’t carry my overnight bag on the chair), then left me with a couple on my right and one in the far corner. The nurse (whose name I can’t remember) came to clerk me in, and was amazed by my history (as are most people). She was grateful for my drugs list, gave me a red wristband (allergies), then the healthcare assistant, Mercy, came to do my obs and bring me my anti-DVT stockings. While getting changed, I took a sneaky sip of water to help my dry mouth, then I sat and listened to the corner couple having a hushed, Jeremy Kyle-style domestic. She was really stressed about whatever she was having done, and he was telling her to “Just deal with it like everybody else in here.”, which was not very helpful. They both wanted each other to fuck off, but she also wanted him to be able to stay because she’d freak out if left alone. I gleaned that she wants a hysterectomy but nobody will do that because she’s only 23. Poor girl.

Miss Byrom and Gerwyn the anaesthetist came to see us all individually. She just ran through with me again what she was going to do – remove/separate the adhesions, attempt to do a smear, and take biopsies if deemed necessary. Gerwyn was very nice (as are all the anaesthetists I’ve met) and he was glad to have my latest lung function results. He mentioned that he wouldn’t be intubating me (for a short sleep I’d bloody well hope not), just putting down a smaller breathing tube. That was fine.

I was second on the list, so while I waited to be taken down, I decided to use the time productively and do a blog post. While I was writing, the girl in the corner came to the conclusion that she didn’t want to stay, but before she came back, the porter came and he and Mercy took me down to theatre.

I moved over to the theatre gurney, and was wheeled into the anaesthetic room. I met some new people, confirmed my identity and what I was having done, then Gerwyn had to find somewhere to cannulate me. The first vein didn’t want to co-operate, then the one on the other hand was only too happy to squirt blood everywhere. Still, it was in, then he gave me some morphine to relax me, put the mask over my face emitting gas that smelled of vanilla, and off to sleep I went.

I awoke maybe 45 minutes later, conscious that some time had passed but not long. No dreams. I was acutely aware that things were inside me and that I needed the toilet. I was told that in theatre they had put a catheter and a pack in, which would be pressing on my rectum which was why I felt like I needed to poo. The nurse in recovery was pleased with how awake I was and that I was drinking and talking, so she called the ward and the other nurse looking after me (Rachel) came down. I asked her if the lady in the corner had stayed and it turned out she had. Change of heart. The boyfriend had had to leave though because them’s the rules. She checked the inco-pad underneath me and we found that the catheter had come undone, so she screwed it back together and changed the pad so I had a clean bed.

Back on the ward, they said I would have to stay for at least six hours, until half past four, when they could take the pack out, then the catheter, and I’d have to pee without it. This was not great news but fine, I could deal with it, I just had to adjust my position regularly. It was really, very uncomfortable, and the need to poo did not abate at all. I was brought some tea and toast which at least made my tummy stop rumbling. I texted Mommy and Christine to let them know how I was, and finished off the blog post. Visiting started at 2, so I asked Mommy if she’s come then with some coffee and lunch. To pass the time, I worked on my Christmas scarf and tried to ignore my discomfort.

When she arrived, I explained in more detail what had happened this morning and told her about the whispered argument in the corner (which seemed to have been forgotten when he returned). I drank my peppermint mocha and ate my panini, all the while wriggling around. I tweeted and crocheted, and we kept hearing the nurse ring a particular doctor about him coming to see the lady in the other corner, then she could leave. She waited for him for four hours, and in the end, he didn’t even show up, just gave some instructions on what she needed to do. I would have been fuming.

By ten past four, I was counting down the minutes until we could take the pack out. I was the only one left in the bay by this point, so I could be plenty vocal about my need to have to removed. Thankfully, at half four on the dot, Rachel was all ready to do it. The curtains got pulled round, I pulled the sheet down and spread my legs. She put a sick bowl down for the pack to go in, and started pulling out the gauze. I have never, ever experienced anything like it. There was so much pain as it ripped away from the skin inside my vagina, and seemed to go on forever, like when a magician pulls a string of flags from his sleeve. In a way it did seem like magic because I have no idea how they fit so much in there. At one point, we got to a knot where it emerged that there were two packs tied together and we were only halfway through! I was in absolute agony but I told her to keep going because I just needed it to be over. When she’d finished, the blood-soaked gauze filled the sick bowl and I didn’t even feel any of the relief that I’d expected, just sheer trauma. Thank fuck I never have to give birth because that was one of the worst things I have ever been through.

I was still bleeding a lot, so we didn’t take out the catheter in case they had to put another pack in. I really did not want this to happen and I willed my body to stop. Thankfully, it did slow down, and by the time Miss Byrom came round, it was at a much more acceptable rate. She had prescribed some topical estrogen cream and explained how to use it, and gave me a slightly more graphic description of what had happened in theatre. Basically, there was only a tiny amount of vagina that was open, maybe a centimetre, and she really just had to stick her finger through and rip me apart. Brutal, but the only way. Also, they couldn’t see any hint of my cervix or the coil, but they’re definitely in there. Just don’t know how we’ll get them out when it comes to that. Still, she was happy with how I was, so the catheter and cannulas could be removed. Then I would just have to wee and I’d be able to go home! I didn’t expect this to be a problem as I’d been drinking all afternoon, but my bladder was not keen on letting any of it go.

I managed one rather small wee, which was not adequate, then I just had to drink more. I drank glass after glass, watching the clock because I really wanted to get to The Glee to see Tom and Suzi for 8. About 10 past 7, my stomach was as tight as drum with the amount of water filling it up, and I went to see if there was anything to be done that might help. I couldn’t have any diuretics, but Rachel was happy that I had at least done a wee and was confident that I was sensible enough to know what to do if anything seemed wrong.

I went for one more pitiful try, then Mommy and I took the paperwork and cream, and off to The Glee we went! I decided that I would text Suzi and ask her if she could get a member of staff to let me in the back door so I could go up in the lift and not have to climb the stairs, which she very obligingly did.

This meant I was the first one in, and for a little while, I sat alone in the studio while an excellent playlist of musical theatre tunes played. I couldn’t do the kicks on stage that I might have, but I did take a selfie because I’m cool. Then the room started to fill up, and Tom and Suzi appeared! The format was essentially intro, Suzi’s show, interval, Tom’s show. They were both equally hilarious and thought-provoking and delightful in different ways, and I enjoyed myself immensely. I popped into the dressing room at the interval to say hello and have hugs and chats, and I got to wang on about my very strange day.

Time flew by, and suddenly it was time for part two, so we had group hug and a photo before Tom’s half. I think his show was longer than Suzi’s, and by the time it was curtain down, it was nearly eleven o’clock and I was very ready to go to bed. So tired. But I was really happy I got to finish my day laughing so much with my lovely pals.

The 19th of November.

Well I don’t feel great. Having got in late, I thought I’d sleep really well, but all that water caught up with me and I woke up four times to pee. Did not want to wake up at half nine when my alarm went off but I thought I should.

I stayed in my pyjamas all morning, feeling rather delicate and taking things slowly. Mommy and I caught up on I’m A Celebrity, and I finished crocheting the tiny Christmas tree for inside a bauble. Lunchtime came round quickly, and it felt like a beans on toast kind of day. Warm, cosy food.

This afternoon, I had a go with the topical estrogen. It didn’t work quite the way I thought it would with the dilator, so tomorrow I’ll try the applicator that was provided. It certainly went in a lot further than it used to, so the surgery definitely did its job. I was glad I decided to it on a towel as I am still bleeding and had I not, I would have ruined a duvet cover. Admittedly only a rather unexciting one from Tesco, but still.

I then spent a good couple of hours writing four and half pages about yesterday. I really hope you enjoy all the detail. When I’d finished, I finally read this morning’s paper, and made the penultimate bauble. Just one left to go, for the tree to go in. It might have to be a special one because a) I have run out of outer bauble wool and b) the tree seems too big to fit in the same size as the rest.

I think it might be somewhat longer than I thought until I am back at the gym.

The 17th & 18th; I’ll finally have a smear!

The 17th of October. 

Today has been a pile of garbage. 

I’m still really achy, and was not thrilled at the prospect of sitting in my wheelchair much, but I didn’t think I’d be at the Women’s Hospital too long so it would be okay. How wrong I was. 

I arrived in colposcopy clinic at 11:15, but wasn’t seen until about 12, when Sue had come up and intervened (of her own volition; I didn’t even know she was coming). A nurse called me through, and we went to a room where I met Miss Byrom, and Sue and the two nurses were there too. We had a very brief chat about my problem, then it was jeans and pants off time. I put a gown on, and got into the very undignified position in the stirrups. On the ceiling were some pretty flowers, but I was far more interested in the screen with a big picture of my vagina on it. Miss Byrom attempted to insert a very small speculum, but it wouldn’t go in. There is some kind of obstruction, adhesion, like I had some sort of injury which has healed incorrectly. We have no idea what’s happened, but at least we have an explanation as to why I can’t be examined, and why I got nowhere with the dilators. So I’ll have to go back to be put under anaesthetic and my vagina will be “opened up”, to put it politely, and I’ll finally have a smear!

I then got taken to pre-op, where I waited for a good forty-five minutes before we even started. An auxiliary nurse did my height, weight and blood pressure, and I didn’t need an ECG because they have a recent one on file. Then back to the waiting room until a pre-op nurse could see me. 

I read some more of The Bone Clocks (I have made a great deal of progress in it today), and eventually a nurse came for me. We went to her room, and we had to go through all the usual questions. They had a lot of my information from my GA for the coil last year, so I gave her a potted version of my history, then made sure she had an up to date drugs list. She gave me several leaflets about GAs and preventing DVTs and PEs, then I took some blood forms off to the phlebotomist. That turned out to be the auxiliary nurse from before, poor woman, having to do multiple jobs. She said “That’s the NHS for you” and I said “That’s Jeremy Hunt for you”. Anyway. I finally got out at 3, and found Mommy in the car park who was very very bored and cold and hungry. 

Christine rang Mommy’s phone but we missed the call, then I rang her back to find that she’d tried to ring me but couldn’t get through, so we decided that when we got home, I’d back up my phone and tomorrow we’ll go to the Apple shop first thing. She’d actually phoned to complain about how the boiler people are a bunch of incompetent bastards and she won’t have any hot water until the end of the week, the second one of this saga. 

When we got home, we both ate lunch, then I went upstairs for an hour and a half to back up my phone. I couldn’t bear to sit for that long, so I lay on Christine’s bed with the electric blanket on to try to ease my back a little and listened to podcasts. It’s done now, and I’m looking forward to sleep. 

The 18th of October. 

Awake so early. Needed to be at the Apple shop for 9 to be able to see someone about my phone’s incoming call/text situation. I wasn’t first in the queue because being in the wheelchair, people walked past me into the shop while I had to wait for someone to activate the lift. Still, there were only a couple of people ahead of me, and the chap organising the Genius Bar said I’d be waiting about half an hour. He said I could leave and come back but there was no point, so Mommy went to Faculty to get me a coffee while I twiddled my thumbs. 

A guy came over about half past nine to hear about my issues, which I duly explained. He ran diagnostics and because of what I’d told him, he was happy to replace the phone once he’d checked it for any secret damage. That was all grand, except that they didn’t have any in stock, so I am awaiting an email to let me know one has been delivered. He has to say 10-14 days, but it’ll apparently be more like 5. 

Once finished my we went to Hotel Chocolat where I bought a Chocolate Yumpkin, and Boots for lip balm and some man tissues for Daddy before coming home. 

We had lunch and watched the new episode of Criminal Minds (so exciting I cannot explain), then Mommy ferried Grandma back and forth to Fellowship while I crocheted bits of the current project. 

The kittens were booked in for their first lot of jabs at 5, so we bundled them and Amy into the carriers to take them to the vet. It surprisingly easy to get them in, and there was no crying on the way. Lydon’s was full of dogs which I loved, but the cats were not so keen. I set the carriers facing each other so they were slightly comforted by that, and I crouched next to them. I took a lot of pictures of all the dogs but I didn’t pet any of them because I didn’t want the cats to smell them on me. 

When it was our turn, we started off with Amy, and she was good until it was time for the needle, at which point she spun round and hissed while the syringe was still in her neck. She was only too happy to go back in the carrier. All the kittens were really good; nobody hissed or scratched or bit, they were all just a bit wriggly. 

Back at home, I took a parcel that had been delivered to us next door, so I got to meet new neighbour Richard, who (it turns out) actually follows me on Twitter! He saw me in the Sutton Observer a while ago. Who knew we’d become neighbours? I also saw George again who was not poorly but he was a little bit grumpy because nursery had made him tired. I couldn’t stay long, because we had a lady coming to look at kittens and we needed to eat dinner before she arrived. 

I showed her Archie, Alfie and Angelica, as they’re the available ones. She really liked Alfie and Angelica  which is good because at least she’s got one who’s relatively confident. She asked all the right questions and I’m really happy with her as an adopter, so once the kittens are ready, she can have them!

The 17th & 18th; This must be how actual writers feel.

The 17th of July.

I do love summer, but it’s too hot in the sun. I enjoy being able to wear my dresses though. There are not many days a year that I can, so the next few might require outfit changes so things get worn. 

Got up earlier then usual for a Sunday because Victoria and Isobel were coming to look at kittens at half ten. They were very prompt and I ushered them in, so the kittens legged it to the other end of the room. We stayed where we were, and slowly Nova, Nettie and Noelle all came to say hello. Isobel was very indecisive (as 3 year olds are), stuck between Nettie and Noelle. I think the decision was made for her when Noelle really took to them both, having a great time playing with their fingers. 

They left after about an hour, and they’ll come back to take her home when they are back from holiday in a couple of weeks. Her name will be changed to Sophie so we’ll have to start calling her that. 

After Grandma had been taken home from church and we’d had lunch, Mommy and I went to the Cats Protection Garden Party and took some cakes for them to sell. We saw Jen and Lee, bought some cake, jam and raffle tickets, but couldn’t stay long because it was roasting and I needed to get back to feed the kittens. 

For the rest of the afternoon, I’ve been photographing the kittens for the website, filling in my Anthony Nolan expenses forms and composing an email to Mark Tami about mental health post-transplant. I will update my blog, I swear. 

The 18th of July.

More writing. I think this must be how actual writers feel, doing essentially nothing but. I didn’t get any done this morning because there wasn’t really time before I had to go out. I had my breakfast and coffee, fed the kittens (who are much friendlier now we’ve taken the cage down), then it was time to go to the gym. 

I was meeting with Vlad because now I’ve had this news about my spine, I don’t think it is wise for me to be putting any extra strain on it until I have seen the surgeon, know what’s going on and what we’re going to do about it. Mr. Harland might say it’s fine to exercise, or tell me what I can and cannot do, which would be great and I’d go back immediately, but it hurt every time I worked out and so for now, I will not be gymming. He asked how my diet had been, which I think is funny because I will not be changing that for anyone. It’s taken my entire life for me to cultivate a relatively normal relationship with food, and any obsessive monitoring of what or how much I eat will only end badly. Sorry but not sorry. 

After lunch: writing/blogging. I’ve written up two out of three, with the second one scheduled to be published tomorrow morning, and I’m going to try to do the third one this evening, because tomorrow I’ll have another one to do!

The weather is too warm. I cannot go outside because it just feels too close. The air feels heavy. Sleeping tonight will be a challenge. Daddy’s just got in from work and I remember just how gross the train home can be in this kind of heat so I do not envy him at all.