"Parting is such sweet sorrow..."

wrote some famous geezer once upon a time...

...and how right he is. Sorrow rises up to meet me. This is potentially the last time I will see Mr F, my lovely gynae consultant unless by some quirk of kismet we meet in Qatar! He is leaving me for the desert!

My follow up appointment has a sense of an ending, it is a closing of a chapter as I continue to heal yet I have been through such an intense process with this exceptional man, the connection is inevitable. 

Don't all women fall in love with their gynaecologist?!

So I leave the hospital with renewed hope that my body, now rid from endometriosis and the organ that produced it, is finally going to allow me to be as free & vibrant as my thoughts. Yet the loss prompted by this change overwhelms me and I spend the evening silently weeping; perhaps this surfacing melancholy is a sort of relief overflow from the effects of surgery and the energetic links that are created.

My osteo recently remarked that it is as if all my whole life has been leading up to this point, the start of wellness and a clearing of karma through intense pain and suffering. The shamanic tradition marks this as the 'wounded healer' archetype, and through experiencing this descent into the abyss of illness the young initiate will re-emerge into the world with vital information to share with others. 

"So, I thank you Mr F with all my heart for your commitment to me over the past two years, you have touched me way beyond the physical and above all you were the one that really heard me. I will never forget that."

And who could have predicted that my final gynaecology appointment would involve the mention of camels! 

Perhaps Mr F will be true to his word and bring me back a camel from Qatar.......however, I'll settle for diamonds!

Here is a photo of me on 'Skyjuice' the camel in Jordan.

Butterflies and the process of transformation

Butterflies teach us how to transform...

We can learn from creatures that transform drastically throughout their life cycle and a prime example of this is the butterfly. I have always been drawn to their subtle complexity, a life lived in apparent frailty but disguising great strength. I meet the owner of the Butterfly House and he shows me a Gold Rim Swallowtail caterpillar, it it black and bulbous with red spikes, and secretes a wax-like substance when under threat! I am reminded of the way my body oozed and expelled liquids post-op, something no-one ever discusses in conversation. The processes we go through when healing can be regarded as disgusting or they can be looked upon as a necessary part of transformation. As a butterfly.

The chrysalises hang apparently dormant in their cupboard at the back of the Butterfly House, they dance as if celebrating their imminent emergence into a new life. I spoke to many women before I had my hysterectomy and heard their experience of it, all of them said they didn't regret it and it was the best thing they'd ever done. I maintain that view also regardless of the complications that arose during my surgery and the pain I endured. I am grateful to those professionals who helped me to combat endometriosis, a debilitating and life-changing disease. I felt hysterectomy was the only option left to me if I was to lead a happy and fulfilling life.

I will leave you with a photo of the Tree Nymph butterfly, a gloriously large creature that flies as if it is tissue paper swimming on the breeze.

Channelling the Fire Goddess...

We seek that which is lacking within us...

This is something I have learned in my experience so far and the synchronicity of healing and the paths we are steered upon. I had been buzzing about like a headless mosquito for too long, ignoring the pools of sustenance that lay before me; my life as a writer was waiting dormant in those pools until I had the courage to immerse.

My passion has always been reading and writing, I live for it so this period of convalescence has allowed me to be still like a great lake, breathing and adapting to its change of season. Summer has supported me well this year, the element of fire has complemented my earthly grounding, the irony of a cut ureter marking the water element in my chart and the gentle breeze of words rustling through my head as I read and read and read.

I keep getting hot flashes that rise up through my upper body and head, it could be the hormonal surges but may also be my body cleansing itself. It is not unpleasant and I prefer to call it 'channelling the fire goddess' - a much more positive take on the menopausal bad press of 'hot flushes'.

I have used sage tablets to calm the fiery goddess from getting out of control. Sage comes from the word salvere which means to be saved. So to all you glorious women out there who are channelling the fire goddess I wish you the silvery cool leaves of sage.

Doing too much...

Pain in the neck?

My neck and shoulder ache is in response to my body getting back into alignment after so much contraction and concentration on my pelvic area. I can only describe this as a feeling of being pulled in at the middle by a tight elastic belt, it is uncomfortable and needs gentle easing rather than a sharp pull which would only snap. After all the pain I have endured over the years with endometriosis I find that the worst feeling is having pain in the neck or head area and being unable to get comfortable or think straight. 

When I do eventually get to sleep I sink so deeply that when I wake I feel paralysed by my inactive muscles as if they have petrified like a fossil. My dreams are crazy-vivid, full of people demanding me to be in control, to make decisions. In one I call an ambulance for a man who has a wooden stake through his right femur, it's dark and the door to the house is extraordinarily narrow. Then the ambulance drives past, missing the address and gets waylaid assisting a bunch of drunk men, I'm frantically trying to get their attention to assist a much more worthy patient and to hurry.

I have been having Cranial Osteopathy and my Osteo feels I'm doing too much, straining my body with too much action, yet I feel so lazy for sitting still, for gentle movement. This is a western trait in the glorification of  busy, why do we reward the process of accumulation, achievement by the amount we have amassed and how much we fit in to our daily lives. The aggrandisement of frantic living is definitely not for me, so just as well I live in a sleepy part of the countryside and can sink into the gentle pace that is so much more beneficial.

I need to reign it in and rest, rest, rest. 

Sleep Deprivation

A woman without sleep is a shell...

You can tell a person who does not sleep well, their eyes are glazed and they have a demeanor that leaks energy, that is because sleep is so important, there are myriad studies on the benefits of sleep, especially following an illness or in my case, surgery.

Having been what I term a 'good' sleeper most of my life, I find lack of sleep or poor quality sleep most frustrating, affecting not only my physical body but my mental faculties and most importantly for those around me, my mood. The restrictions of abdominal surgery mean that certain positions are uncomfortable, and lying on my back is not my preferred position for sleeping; I am a curled cat, a foetal sleeper. I miss sleeping on my side.

Now, I am 7 weeks post-op but I've only really been active over the past two weeks and only pain-free for 1 week following the removal of the stent from my ureter.

My strategies for getting to sleep include the following (no sheep were involved in the counting):

• Listening to mantras
• Breathing slowly and deeply
• Counting down from 100
• Listing all the states of the USA in alphabetical order
• Numbering the alphabet e.g. Z=26
• Trying to remember the Capital Cities of Europe
• Pulling my hair out!
• Trying to lie really, really still

'You are the doctor too...'

Have you got that jittery feeling?

Yeah, me too! Time has passed by so quickly over July and August perhaps because I'm willing my body to heal and function better than before I went in for my op. Yesterday proved how time is still needed and healing processes cannot be rushed even when  your head is telling you, 'get on with it'. I still feel a long way off from 'normal'.

Yesterday I took a trip out to a garden centre, ate lunch on a particularly uncomfortable chair, walked around a bit and felt bone tired and in need of rest after. I felt my demons surfacing, the usual self-loathing for not being as healthy as I want to be but a pep-talk by my partner helped. I am the only one putting pressure on me, no-one else is. I've allowed myself so far to surrender to the process and it really helps having a philosophical outlook. Talking really does help sometimes or you just let all the monsters sabotage your own unique way of approaching what your body is telling you.

If you start all actions with creativity then you will succeed. I start with nothing but that, it is a burning hole in me, the fuel that expunges the words from my soul. The poet, Rainer Maria Rilke, speaks to Franz Kappus about such a feeling advising him to:

"...remember that sickness is the means by which an organism frees itself of foreign matter; so one must just help it to be sick, to have its whole sickness and break out with it;...you must be patient as a sick man and confident as a convalescent;...you are the doctor too, who has to watch over himself. But there are many days when the doctor can do nothing but wait."

So I wait...settling into my solitude...

Don't over do it...

That's all I have to say on the matter....

Appearances can be deceptive when you are healing. I look well but I know my insides have a long way to go before they are fully healed. It is 5 weeks since the hysterectomy and I still have the stent inside me which is not pleasant, so there is still shock and trauma held at a deep level.

It is dry yet breezy today and if I'd have been well I would've been at our local village's Harvest Home celebration. This is a rural event upheld in small communities around the area I live in, dating back over 100 years. The usual characters all partake in these events including a big meal of local meats, salads and trifles followed by speeches then later an afternoon tea, games and a live band in the evening. All held in a large marquee in the middle of a field. 

I can almost smell the chunks of fresh bread, cubes of cheese, pickles and condiments mixed with the soft, country smell of the grass underfoot. Flowers dotted along the long trestle tables and the bustle of the feast as people consume jugs of ale and cider.

But as I said, there is no way my body could cope with that so I rest. And wait.

Holistic Treatments to help after hysterectomy...

Choose a holistic treatment to aid your recovery...

If you feel anything like me after having surgery you will want tender, loving care and not a full on massage which can probably be detrimental anyway if you are still bruised inside and sore outside too.

Some gentle treatments that can really help include reflexology and you can find one near to you via:

Association of Reflexologists

I am lucky enough to know therapists in my area who practice many different types of therapy so have found homeopathy, reflexology, cranial osteopathy and acupuncture all widely available and very effective at getting me back on track.

My homeopath has prescribed me:

Staphysagria - for post-surgical pain. read about it

Arnica - for bruising and trauma. read about it

Thuja - a fascinating remedy that taps into the divine feminine - read about it

Today I had my first cranial osteopathic treatment with one of the best practitioners I know. This is not to be confused with conventional click and clunk osteopathy that realigns the bones and joints and ligaments but a more gentle intuitive type of therapy. I have found it most effective in dealing with the excruciating symptoms of endometriosis in the past, especially chronic pelvic and back pain. If you are responsive to subtle, gentle approaches I'd really recommend finding a good cranial osteo and have some treatments. I find myself just wanting to sleep very deeply afterwards which seems to be my body's way of realigning itself, like a mini-hibernation.

Here is a link to my fabulous osteo

Be kind to yourself - treat yourself as you would a thing that you love most

POCT or Post-Op Commentary Talking

Talking to yourself is absolutely normal....

Today has been a real test of my energy level management - I love my friends but have found that talking and being present with them has left me floored for some time afterwards. I feel it's the actual process of concentration and being alert, plus being limited at movement prevents me to get up and play hostess.

My rational mind tells me I mustn't over-do it or I could set my self back so I talk to myself - a skill I learned on a workshop once called commentary-driving, only I call this Post-Op Commentary Talking. 

It goes something like this:

"I am now going to gently ease myself out of this chair and stand up. Now I am mindfully going to walk to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water. Oh look, there is a pair of shoes that have been carelessly left in the middle of the room but because I cannot bend down I will not attempt to move them but register that they are in my pathway causing me to navigate around them and not trip up and land flat on my face..."

Talking of limitations, obviously I'm aware that I can't hang out of upstairs windows to wash off the seagull shit so I ask my extremely keen to please partner to do it, as it is impeding my view of the clouds! (Actually he wasn't that keen - who would be?)

Going off on a tangent, can I recommend fruit to you. It's blooming marvellous considering nearly two weeks ago I was almost passing out on the toilet with 8/10 pain, this has reduced to 3/10 discomfort so 'well done body' - remember with POCT you can actually tell your body how well it's doing at healing.

Now for a fruit salad...

Aren't showers blooming marvellous...

I feel clean clean clean clean.....

Hooray, hooray the catheter came out today nearly three weeks since surgery. Goodbye plastic friend who gathered my urine day in day out, I will not miss you one bit.

I cannot tell you how much freedom I feel and it really wasn't that painful (men make a bit of a fuss apparently due to the longer length - these were the nurses words not mine). I quaffed a jug of cold water and managed to pee exceptionally clear urine - twice - had an ultrasound and was told there was a little teaspoon left in there but it all looked fine.

The nurse also kindly looked at my scar which was clean and hadn't bled for 4 days so advised to leave the dressing off. So I did. Thanks nurse. What I didn't envisage was needing a wee so quickly after leaving the hospital so spend most of the journey home in agonies and had to rush (well shuffle at a quicker pace) up the stairs as soon as I got home.

Joy of joys I love to shower, it is so refreshing to feel clean running water wash away all the detritus associated with recovery.

The weather has been hot and dry so I can lounge around drying naturally and letting my body use the balmy air to soothe it. Summer is my favourite season, the light and heat a natural remedy. My pet cat is being careful and affectionate, using his innate intelligence to sense that something is not quite right with me.

Checking the wound

I have come to terms with changing my own dressings and taken control...

I feel well in my head, I'm eating nutritious food, drinking lots of water, the pain of bowel movements is getting less and less each day although probably still 6/10 pain factor which is not something I want to get used to.

So the latest challenge is my abdominal scar bleed which happened Friday night and following a check-up at A&E I had the option of changing my dressings at home or waiting to see the doctor/nurse. I wouldn't mind coping with these sorts of changes if I actually knew what to expect or how to respond. So far I've had no follow up since my discharge from hospital and feel quite narked at not even getting a phone call. When I had my laparoscopy last year somebody phoned a few days after I was home to check how I was and this is far more extensive surgery.

Yesterday I woke at 4.30am to the dawn chorus so lay about ruminating my dreams - I was in Venice in a piazza with my parents and I divert to a path to meet a friend who is with 5 kids, two are hers and three of them are ugly and blind and I'm unsure why they are meeting me here when I just want to sight-see!

 I change my blood soaked dressing laying out the gauze swabs and adhesive dressings alongside the saline solution (made from Cornish sea salt and hot water!) I used to faint at the sight of my own blood but this just makes me feel like I have a job to do, licking my wounds I suppose. There is a little gap in the incision where the dark blood is oozing out but it doesn't look infected and I have embraced my body's cleansing function with stoicism. I need to find out how long it will bleed, if this is normal and don't seem to get any definite answers from the GP or the consultant's secretary who says I must get a referral from my GP to see him. To be honest I don't have the energy to push for appointments so I don't.

Later in the day I feel a loss of faith in my healing ability, yet I'm hard on myself more than others, I've never felt so bashed about in my life. I'm trying to be more objective and less self-focused.

Cloud scrying is a good way of getting out of your body, if there are clouds you can see from where you are. It is a way of finding shapes or images in the clouds, I saw a bearded Neptune and a lemur! My brain is working well then!

Anybody out there???

How many women feel abandoned after hysterectomy...here are some support options where you can join forums and chat to other women who share their experiences:

The Hysterectomy Association

Endometriosis UK

Hyster Sisters

Panic! My incision started bleeding 2 weeks post-op

If it's going to happen it will happen on the busiest Friday of the year at 5pm......

I was daring to feel more positive about my body on its road to recovery, moving about more but not overexerting, resting a lot and eating sensibly. With support from my mum during the day I was really lucky, she had gone home and I pottered into the kitchen when I felt something dripping down my leg, looked down and saw blood - aaaarrrrghh!!!!

This is quite a shocking thing to happen when you think you're all glued up and told that nothing can drop out, but the blood was coming from my incision and had soaked through my dressing, saturating it and then when I stood up....drip drip drip....horror movie or what???

So my initial reaction was, 'ok I'm not going to die' so I shuffled back to the sofa and called my partner and my mum. Then I called 111, the NHS helpline and a nurse asked me several questions to ascertain what was going on. As the doctors surgery was shut for the weekend (this still makes me laugh as people get ill on a Saturday and Sunday too) I was advised to get to my nearest A&E or call an ambulance. So holding a towel against my belly I was driven to the A&E department where I hoped to get some treatment and also to find out why this had happened two weeks after my surgery. I have great respect for the medical profession but follow-up care is sadly lacking in the overstretched NHS.

After being poked, told that the gorier the better for one A&E nurse(!) and talked about while still in the room, I had my blood taken then waited 3 hours in a room with the door closed (and no call button) before having more dressings put on my seeping wound and told to come back tomorrow if it had soaked through. Apparently, a bit of blood can be trapped after surgery and needs to come out somehow, with me it chose to come out on a Friday evening. 

It was not an experience I ever want to repeat, not only was I told that someone would see me 'in a minute' (they didn't), they didn't let my partner and mum know I was waiting in the room alone and being an impatient patient I shuffled off the bed holding my belly like a pregnant woman (ironic as post-hysterectomy!) walked past at least 10 members of staff looking like death warmed up, and into a packed waiting room. I reckon if I was auditioning for a zombie movie I would get the star zombie role handed to me there and then!

I turned to mum on the way home in the car and said, if I need my dressing changed tomorrow I'm doing it, never, ever take me back there! I know I sound ungrateful but with the correct information and reassurance I would have been able to cope with what was happening to my poor healing body. If someone had said to me, it's just a part of the process, just allow it to drain and keep it clean, then I could have approached it with a better frame of mind. It's just as well I'm extremely positive and able to cope with these setbacks.

Almost everything hurts except my fingers...

I am acutely aware of all of my bodily functions right now....never ever take them for granted...

It is useful to remember that even though everything hurts it is hurting for a reason, to make you be still and heal.

It started with a cyst...

I'm reminiscing about the initial diagnosis and urging all women out there to not be fobbed off by their GP, you know your body and if it doesn't feel right get it checked out....

It started with a cyst, on my right ovary, called an endometrioma. Following what was probably years of mis-diagnosis I had endured frequent comments from various GP's (both male and female) saying:

"every woman gets heavy painful periods from time to time"

"it's just something women have to put up with"

"backache is a normal part of life - nearly everyone has an episode of pain once during their lifetime"

"have you tried taking painkillers?" ???????????????

"I'm going to prescribe you....mefenemic acid....the pill.....the depo injection.. the mirena coil is a great preventative measure...how about a hot water bottle...!!!!!!!blah blah blah"

I lost count of how many days I had off school due to heavy periods, leaking blood everywhere, feeling as if my insides were going to explode, bending in half and crawling on the floor with excruciating pain, fainting and feeling lethargic most of the time. Not to mention my studies being affected by lack of concentration and my mental state being eroded by beliefs that it was "all in my head" and something all women have to endure for most of their life. When I tentatively discussed this with my peers they looked at me blankly as if I was exaggerating about the pain so in the end I just said nothing.

I missed social events and work commitments for fear of needing a toilet in case I was bleeding heavily, or not feeling well enough with such low energy I just wanted to lie down. When you live with something for so long it becomes a part of you and you begin to accept it as normal, yet the messiness, the inconvenience and embarrassment of having to make excuses not to do something is NOT normal.

It was only due to a very diligent and compassionate doctor who actually listened to me and suspected I might have a cyst that I was sent me for routine scan. I was not expecting anything to show up so was surprised when the nurse said you have what looks like a cyst on your right ovary, we'll send details of an appointment...then came the first diagnosis of endometriosis at the age of 37....

So I have no regrets about the decision I made to have surgery to remove those parts that caused me nothing but trouble. I only wish it was a more straightforward operation without the added complication of having a cut ureter and endometriosis.

It's all about me, actually!

Getting well after surgery is a personal thing, some like company and lots of fuss while others (like me) prefer to quietly sit like a wounded cub licking her wounds....

The World Cup Final, not that I care in the slightest but some people do especially if they are Argentinian or German football fans. I wake from such a heavy dream filled sleep leaving my body set in concrete and aching in my abdomen, a dense kind of pain as if I'm drowning within myself.

Mornings are always so testing. I get up slow as a sloth and manage to empty my bowels without too much prolonged agony. I feel better after washing like a deranged bashed up old hag leaning on the sink and sponging my body.

The catheter sits like a plastic leech on my leg, now I'm producing warm elderflower cordial and find pleasure in categorizing my wee into various liquid refreshments as it is on display; rose wine, weak ribena, scrumpy medium cider, peach squash, lemon liqueur.

I enforce my boundaries to refrain from visitors which includes pretty much everyone except my mum. This is my surrender moment, a time to heal and I'm not going anywhere so there is no point in resisting it. 

If you resist what your body needs, your body will stop you and make you surrender in no uncertain terms. Be kind. Treat yourself as you would a dear friend.

I have found my diary or blog a preferred way of expressing all these inner feelings, a cathartic release of sorts. Naturally you will have friends who want to see you bearing gifts and tidings of goodwill but it's not about them. It's about you. If you don't feel up to visitors make that clear and tell them you're not ready. There's plenty of time to convalesce when you can enjoy their visits especially if they are offering you specific support. Fetching a few shopping items for you, making a bit of lunch, doing a bit of vacuuming or ironing can all help. 

You need to empower your inner manager and prioritize what it is you need right now.

My main reason for not seeing too many friends in the first week home was because they make me laugh.

"Laughing really hurts after abdominal surgery - stay miserable a little bit longer!"

Bowel issues

Oh dear, my healthy appetite plus iron tablets plus abdominal surgery plus inactivity has led to this no laughing matter...let's talk constipation....

When you have not had a bowel motion for four days then seriously consider all forms of laxative or an enema. When I had endometriosis on my bowel I experienced severe pain but that was nothing compared to post-op  bowel blockage pain - it really, really, really hurts.

I have been drinking plenty of water, eating veg and fruit, natural foods etc but the effects of the iron tablets, codeine and surgery have bunged me up like a cork on a bottle that has been at sea for decades and nothing short of dynamite will ease its constricted state to release its contents. On that oceanic theme, I can tell you not to be regular makes me crabby  - it may sound strange to you but I can almost cope with all the other failings of my poor body when I've had a good shit!

Other things to consider while we're getting down and dirty:

• The catheter is my friend (at least at night time) - I've been sleeping like a log (not sure who first came up with that analogy as logs are the least likely things to sleep having all manner of insects crawling about inside them), so deep in fact that when I wake I feel strange and heavy (perhaps that's where the log theme comes in). For example, last night I weed 1000ml into my night bag so thank god I didn't have to get up and down to the loo.
• Feeling lethargic, breathless and broken from hours of surgery plus drugs plus a drain in my side, plus a catheter, plus a couple of canulas (one of which decided to eject itself from my vein thus depriving me of morphine), then my body being pricked for blood, injected with anti-coagulant, quaffing pills like a raver at a festival....
• Two bags of someone else's blood later and I'm told I'll feel like a new woman (that's infinitely better than being told I'll feel like an old woman or a used woman for that matter.)
• Poo Poo Poo Poo Poo - my specialist subject. Ask me anything about it - don't be shy, it's got to come out in the open sooner or later.

About a Ureter

Until now I hadn't given my 'ureters' a passing thought.....now they are very much in my lexicon....

Ureters are the ducts that allow the flow of urine from the kidneys to the bladder, humans have two, I have a poorly right ureter as it was accidentally cut during surgery to remove my right fallopian tube and ovary. I was told there was some scarring possibly from the previous operation to remove an endometrioma, or caused by the endometriosis, which resulted in these parts of my body being stuck together like glue.

Being a fan of woo-woo and looking at all possible connections as to why this should be an issue for me, I turn to the queen of woo-woo, Louise Hay, who looks at the emotional connections we have with our physical body. Here is what I found:

Damage to ureter:

Fear of relationships / low self image

The bladder is about holding on, held anxiety. Holding on to old ideas. 

Fears of letting go.

Doesn't that pretty much sum up most of us if we live in the real world!

Then I'm told that the bladder asks us to be present. I'm all for that at the moment - what else can I do? I can't even walk to the bathroom without shuffling along and feeling like an old crone.

Oh, and each time new space comes into my life, something happens (what does that mean?) I suppose it means that when you have to sit still or lie still in my case at the moment, you are in a kind of enforced state of mindfulness, you have to listen to your body or it shouts back at you to STOP MOVING.

So here are some affirmations to combat this added challenge to my situation:

"I am strong and powerful and I have the knowledge and ability to handle everything in my life."

"I release all restrictions, and I am free to be me"

"I release the pattern in my consciousness that created this condition. I am willing to change. I love and approve of myself."

Last day in hospital

Goodbye Room 25, I have written you a poem....

Seagulls patrol like marine creatures

Standing sentinel on roof tops twitching like robots

Lifting their wings like fins in a sea of expectancy

To catch the breeze. I lay stranded, a beached balloon

In a shroud,  pinned down by tubes and bags.

Clock-watching is my new hobby, 'time' they say,

'take it'. Two weeks, six weeks, one year. 

Me here, waiting for time to heal, listening to

the rattle of cups moving faster than I can.

The sky today is dusted with the promise of home.

I can hear it in my thoughts now the morphine

drip of the past has slipped from my vein to

leave a purple kiss on my wrist. My body

covered in the surgeons fingerprints, a dot-dot- dot,

dash-dash-dash of morse code on my skin.

I whisper thanks for the blood, the veins it has come from

to meet me here in this bed, in room twenty-five.

---

My last day in hospital so I haul myself into the walk in shower and sit on a chair to cleanse my body as best I can. These things take so much longer than usual. I decided to stay another night as I need to be more mobile if I'm to get home, walk up and down stairs and get myself to the bathroom. So I walk out of the room I've been in for 5 days, feel completely knackered, come back, sit down, watch TV, get up, have more blood taken to see that I'm ok after the transfusion, empty my catheter bag, sit down.

My friend visits me in hospital and I try to explain to her all that has gone on, I feel really tired when she leaves which apparently is normal. Anyway, I motivate myself to walk to the day room and back which is quite a long way down the corridor, I feel really hungry today. I am better when lying flat as when I sit I can feel my insides pulling and aching.

I dream of a delicious platter of organic salad: tomatoes; cucumber; sprouted seeds; grated carrot; rocket; black and green olives; red pimento peppers; feta cheese cubes; chives and olive oil. Mmmmmmmmm!

Imprisoned by my body

I feel yukky.....

Three days post-op and the dawning realisation that I am actually quite poorly has set in and my mind has decided to tell me that I actually feel really ill.

I feel imprisoned by my own body and it's attachments. The fucking drain, a subject of much discussion by the visiting team of urologists and gynaecologists is talked about, looked at and I'm told it can be removed but it hasn't. It sits in my side congealing making me feel sick, I'm surprised vampires aren't swarming around the ward - I'm easy pickings right now.

This catheter is hindering my already limited movement, on the plus side it is useful to not have to get up and down to have a wee. I feel sick today. It could be the thought of having to have a blood transfusion - do something new everyday - ok I'll have two big bags of someone elses blood please!

Oh and I feel dirty and smelly and can't do much about it other than sponge myself while sitting. My head aches, my neck is stiff from all this laying about. There is no striking pain but I feel grotty as if I've been put in a room with no air, had my insides ripped out, been drugged, and not washed for a week - I think that is pretty much what has happened.

Ok, enough of this negativity although I am justified to feel a little bit sorry for myself considering all the problems I've encountered with this hysterectomy.

THEN SOMETHING MARVELLOUS HAPPENED.....

I had a blood transfusion! If you can imagine filling up a car with petrol or a glass with some delicious nutritious juice or one of those charts you see on game shows where the tube gets filled up the more noise you make....that is what having a blood transfusion feels like.

Almost instantly my colour came back into my cheeks and I could feel my energy renewing. 

THANK YOU SO MUCH BLOOD DONORS OF THE WORLD - I REALLY, REALLY APPRECIATE YOU.

If you ever want to give blood (and you will definitely help people who are in need of it like me) then contact the NHS blood and transplant service.