It’s official… I’m crap!

So, today is generally a good day.  I’ve got a band in the house later on today, I’m off to the mother land tomorrow to see a prog-rock band and with my best friends. 

Shame an absolute pillock has to go and ruin it.  

A local news website (I’m being nice.  Other people class it as a gossip mongering site) reported that ‘Three Asian Men’ were attempting to get girls into a car.  Nothing on where – or any confirmation from the police – just some letters reportedly sent to three schools in the borough.  I stated that the headline was misleading and *could* incite racial hatred as with the Woolwich murder recently, there has been a lot of hate crime against muslim and Asian people.  

The journalist who wrote it took offence, put words into mouth and became rather rude and insultive.  He actually claimed I called him a racist.  Which I didn’t.  I stated that the headline could incite racial hatred.  Which clearly, it could.  

He then went on to block me from the page and then send me personal messages telling me that I’m a crap writer, a silly little girl, have no grasp of grammar and basically a non-entity and that I deserved all the crap I was getting from the ignorant, xenophobic, sycophantic folk who thought it’s right to target the whole of the local Asian community based on a rumour. 

What a nice, professional chap he is.  

 

Whits End?

It’s the Whitsun Half Term Holidays in Fakerville at the moment and all hell seems to breaking loose in the house.

After what was a beautiful weekend, with the sun shining and lots of walking and spending lovely time with the monsters, friends and hubby everything else seems to have gone down hill.  The sun’s disappeared behind a bank of clouds which seems to be impenetrable – apart from drizzling rain.  We’re stuck in the house, my stomach’s hurting and we’re all a little bored.  Even though we’ve crafted, played games, watched the whole four Spy Kids films in a row – just today – it feels like time has stood still.

So, on Sunday we went to a last minute party of one of the hubby’s friends little girls.  Although the monsters barely remember her, they had a nice time running around chasing balloons and dancing to crappy pop music.  Even the slightly scary and stupidly bossy magician caught their attention (even though the adults saw through each and every trick).  We then went on a bit of a mad drive and discovered a pretty lake not far from us, which would be perfect to walk around – although we didn’t walk around it then as we had to pick up the hubby’s niece.  When we got home, the sun was shining that bright still, we decided to take the monsters (and honorary monster) to the park.  And then for a walk in the stunning countryside which surrounds our little suburban village.  It was amazing.  So much so, the next day we walked over five kilometers to a country park and hill in a neighbouring village and back again.     All the while, my stomach was killing me – but it didn’t matter.
The exercise  fresh air and being with my beautiful family got me through it.  Well, that and the fact that it would be getting me bang into training for my bright idea of walking from Skegness to Cleethorpes to raise money for Endometriosis UK...  40 miles in total.  Along the coast road.  Because it will be a challenge and it will probably hurt – but it will hopefully raise a lot of money and awareness for Endo and it’s many, many sufferers.

Anyway, the last two days have dragged – even though the monsters best friend was here all day yesterday – because the sun’s gone and we’ve not really left the house.  Plus, I’m on countdown until the weekend – when I finally get to the mother land and dress as an angry teddy bear for my mad prog-rock concert.  Counting down always makes time stand still.

Either way, monsters and I are all waiting for the end of the Whit holidays – them so they’re not so bored and can be with their friends again, me for a lot of ear-bleeding level noise.

If you would like to sponsor me on my mad walk – or even find out more information about it – please visit my Just Giving page.  

Monster free!

So, last night the male shaped monster had his first ever sleep over at someone’s house who isn’t a relative.  I was concerned about how he’d cope, as let’s face it, he’s not normally great away from us.  Luckily, the female shaped monster was also sleeping over at the same house – so he settled.  He also absolutely adores the children he was staying with.  And I mean, practically worships them.  One of them used to be in his class at school before he moved to the Special Language Resource school and he’d been really, really missing her.  So, of course in his way, he completely proved me to be a worrying twit for no reason whatsoever and had a ball.
He fell asleep at 5pm tonight.  Haha.

Anyway, both of the monsters are sleeping at Grandparents tonight – female with the MiL and male with my mum.  Woohoo!  Two night’s child free.  Any normal woman in her 30’s would be either grabbing a bottle of chilled white or rose or getting her glad rags on and heading out to town.  On at least of the child free nights anyway.  Not me.  No.  Last night I spent writing and talking to friends for so long I didn’t realise it had got dark.  Tonight, I’ve thrown up so badly the sick missed the toilet bowl and splashed onto my combat trousers.  Nice.  I’m currently feeling that woozy and sick again, I’m writing to take my mind off it.  Not that it’s working too well – but it’s better than sitting feeling sorry for myself and doing nothing else.  I’m also listening to my mixtape that I did earlier.  Full of lovely 90’s indie music and a couple of unsigned bands thrown in.  Taking me back to my mis-spent youth.  I wish.

Next weekend is the big weekend back in the motherland for the prog-rock concert.  Spending all pretty much all Friday and Saturday drinking.  Woohoo!  Except, I’m worried that my stomach’s going to go off on one.  I think I’m due my period (the throwing up and general aches and pains of the last couple of days are quite a good indicator) and am sincerely hoping the adrenaline of a lot of live music is gonna get me through it.  One thing I know I won’t be doing – and that’s getting too close to the front and getting a pair of cracked ribs – like I did last time.  Oh – that and inadvertently showing my bare backside to the lead singer as I was hauled over the barrier.  Either way, there’s going to be three ‘angry teddy bears’ wandering around the motherland next Saturday.  Or rather three weird women in brown dresses with bear ears on.  All in the name of fancy dress and er, weirdness.

One thing I’m gonna say – is that I’m truly shocked and humbled at how well the ‘Ode to End-Woe’ poem went down.  So, big thank you to anyone who read it, shared it and liked it.  Thank you.

Ode to End-woe.

I am in no way, shape or form a poet – but this escaped out of me one day when I was pretty fed up and in quite a lot of pain and as a result on some strong medication…  Not that I’m saying strong medication is needed for creativity…  It just gives me a motor mouth.

 

Endo, endo, go away.

Don’t come back another day.

I’m sick and tired of being in pain

Yet you won’t stop flaring up again.

I’m fed up of being bloated no matter how little I consume

Enraged at always being ill and tired and running on fumes.

My body doesn’t like being pumped up full of drugs

It would rather be de-toxed and full of lovely stuff

I want to stay up at night and watch TV

Not curled up, drugged up and fast asleep.

It’s sad that a hot water bottle has become my best friend

As its heat soothes and warms my stomach no end

I’d like to be able to go out to a party

And wear nice clothes and pretend to be flirty

And not have to hide my bloated belly

And make excuses like I’ve not turned off the telly

Endo, endo – go away.

And please, don’t come back, another day.

 

 

 

Hand – slapped.

I know, I know, I’ve been away for weeks again from my self imposed writing task.  I’ve been busy though!  And ill.

The male shaped monsters none-party-party went down really well, with the added bonus of the monsters all being whisked away to friends and grandparents houses.  Hurrah!  I got discharged from physio – no more crutches which was a relief but I didn’t get my horn removed.  No, the surgeon decided that it was too close to my eye.  Although, if he’d have come into the blooming room in the first place to check it out on my first appointment a hell of a lot of mess would have been saved.  Hmph.  Had my final zoladex injection – which the nurse still wasn’t happy about – and she bought my appointment forward to see the consultant by two weeks.  I know it doesn’t sound much – but in the world of women’s hormones, two weeks can be the equivalent of a lifetime.   I also had an ultra-sound scan of my pelvis where the sonographer asked me if I would like to stay in as she was concerned.  She said there was free fluid in my pelvis, which could have meant a number of things.  I decided to go home as I would have been more comfortable at home and had pre-arrangements with my friends.

Then, two weeks ago, the pain started getting pretty much unbearable.  I’d been helping my crazy fancy dress lady friend out over the May Day bank holiday weekend – and probably did far too much far too soon.  I relapsed in a bad way.  By the Thursday morning I was crying in agony – which isn’t really like me.  I’ve talked before about how strong a pain threshold women with Endo have but this was like nothing I’d had for a hell of a long time.  Hubby whisked me to hospital (he rang the gynea ward first and they advised Accident and Emergency) where I was shot up with Morphine pretty much immediately.  I was taken up to a ward and spent the whole weekend there. They started treating me for PID (Pelvic Inflammatory Disease) which has been caused by the coil going rogue (I always knew that sodding thing wasn’t working for me).  Well, PID can be a STI as well but as I haven’t had sex with my husband since January because it hurt so much let alone anyone else, they pretty much ruled that one out.

The only thing which really upset me though was the way the hospital handled it.  They told me they were treating me for an infection they believed the coil had caused – but didn’t bother telling me what infection.  It was only when I received my discharge letters that I realised what the two week course of antibiotics was for.  I went into a slight melt-down.  My sister had PID and when she was 21 had a full hysterectomy.  So, now there’s me thinking ‘shiiiiiittt, I could be bloody infertile now’ and no one to tell me otherwise apart from a group of Endo-sisters on Facebook.

Now, the Endo-sisterhood is a wonderful group of women who have all got endo – or are in the process of being diagnosed or having it ruled out.  We all have different stages of endo – some more severe than others and some are incredibly sadly, infertile.  The whole point of the group though was to offer support and make friendships with fellow sufferers.  Feel their happiness and feel their pain.  Not to get all competitive about who’s in more pain than who or who’s symptoms are worse than someone elses.  And certainly not the place where I’d expect the little green eyed monster and sheer insensitivity to dribble out.  Fair enough, there’s like, a thousand hormonal women in the group and things, sometimes are gonna get a little tetchy.  But they’re also all adults and should know that if seeing about one lady with this illness is able to have a baby, then we should all share in her joy!   One woman completely baffled me by saying not only should women in the ‘support’ group not talk about difficulties and complications of pregnancy but neither should women talk about abuse.  It’s a group which can be about sex.  It’s about women’s  re-productive organs for goddesses sake.  For some women (like me) sex, abuse and endo are all related.  At one point I was paranoid that the PID I’m being treated for now was because of the abuse I received from my father and had laid dormant for years.  I shudder to think that someone in the group that’s supposed to offer support would think that I was being insensitive to them by asking if it could be.  Heaven forbid a post about my abuse causing me more illness would offend someone who doesn’t even know me!  As you can imagine, I’m pretty pissed off about their attitude.  The place is a support group about endo and endo related issues.  At the moment the illness I’m being treated for is hand in hand with my Endo and so therefore would have had a place to ask about it – but no more – for fear of upsetting someone with her head so far up her own arse she’s caught a cold.

It just got to me so much – especially as then another lady started claiming she was being bullied – even though her abhorrent comments and attitude to other members of the group – of course made her above reproach.  She actually implied that when I had the pretty serious complication of not being able to pee while I was pregnant with the female shaped monster – that if I’d have asked if anyone else had had to self catheterise – I would have being moaning.  Get the fuck off, you intolerant, selfish, small minded, jealous cow.  Asking a question about pregnancy isn’t moaning.  Neither is stating you have swollen ankles, pre-eclampsia or morning sickness.  It’s being open and sharing and asking for support.  If you can’t open your heart enough to do that then you’re a pretty miserable person who only deserves pity.

Anyway, ranting over for one night.  I’m gonna post a poem I wrote about endo later in a short while.  Please, don’t laugh at it!