Surgery

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I’ve alluded to a tough week, and this is never a blog where I shy away from being honest about my personal life, so I feel like I should just share this before I go back to talking about cheeseburgers and nail varnish. Those of you who were readers through the woes of Rubbishtober 2012 will know that life as I knew it took a nose dive lat year, as I was diagnosed with a whopping ovarian cyst, which proceeded to rupture and I needed emergency surgery to remove. As far as I was concerned, and to be honest the doctors led me to believe, that would be that. Surgery, cyst removed, life as normal. Sadly thought it hasn’t quite worked out like that. I have never been quite right since my operation and haven’t been able to shake a niggly feeling that something still wasn’t 100%. After various checks, tests and me sulking until they sent me for another scan (which is so unpleasant I wouldn’t be begging for it if I wasn’t really worried) and last week I found out that I have not one, but two cysts, on the same place they removed the last one. Well, my mum always said I wasn’t one to do things by halves.

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Anyway, it turns out the surgeons didn’t remove all the endometriosis in my last operation. This is a decision apparently they may have made to try and protect my healthy ovary by not getting too close to it with the surgical tools… However this wasn’t something I’d been told at any point in the 6 months since my surgery, so safe to say, it was pretty devastating. I’d been led to believe everything had been well and truly removed. In a way it was a relief to have some answers to my ongoing wishywashy health vibes, but in another I feel really let down and out of control of my own body. The good news is that the cysts aren’t currently big enough to need surgery again, so I get a break from operations for  little longer. In fact there is a chance it might not grow and I can just live with it (like a really unwanted body-pet). However in a year I go back for a scan and if it’s even grown by a cm, I’ll be back under the knife. So for now, I’m focussing on the positives and all the amazing things I need to fill my life with in the next year just in case I do have another bad patch. I’ve not been able to wear mascara since this happened because it’s made me turn into a weeping willow and has been a real brain battle to get my head around. But so that’s the crummy bit…

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The good bit is how INCREDIBLE my friends and family and of course, Nick the wonder boy, have been. They rode every roller-coaster bump of last October with me and so instantly felt the shock and disappointment of this news too. I’ve been so touched by how supportive and wonderful everyone I’ve confided in so far has been, when I haven’t really been much fun to be around. Craig was immediately on hand with an M&S picnic in Regents Park, as some situations only pink gin & tonic in a can can fix. We sat gritting out teeth and “enjoying the sun” (it was about 15 degrees!) for as long as we could muster before skulking to the nearest Starbucks for a hot chocolate to thaw out. Typical British summer antics! My beautiful Kate literally landed from her holiday in Mallorca and slept for approximately one hour, before rushing to London still in her holiday clothes, to whisk me for a stealthy brunch and much needed vent. My mum was an absolutely champ, taking a dash across London from Paddington to Kings Cross to spend a couple of hours watching the new Kings Cross development being built before taking a train back to Yorkshire. & I can’t even begin to list the millions of thoughtful things Nick has done, precious glimmery sparkly moments to make it impossible to be glum; one of them might have included an AMAZING dance to the entire 3 minutes of Aretha Franklins RESPECT (shhh!). That and chocolate moustaches. Safe to say I have had a much needed word with myself and remembered how lucky I am, whatever happens with my health in the future.

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The BIGGEST thing Nick did for me to put a crocodile grin back on my misery guts face was… he has successfully broken my The National curse! Out of the blue a few weeks ago, they added a random July London date in. From the second I heard the news, I knew I just HAD to be there. Intimate venue, walking distance from my house, super SOON! We embarked on an early morning stroll to work where we sat at our respective office computers frantically pressing f5 f5 f5 on the Roundhouse website. Tickets went live at 9am and predictably with The National, the internet broke! The Roundhouse website wasn’t structured to cope with such a vast quantity of hits and before long the site was down, the phoneline was cutting us off and breaking the curse was looking more and more unlikely as I was cheerily informed I was number 3947 in the queue for tickets… Just as we were cursing ourself for not showing up in person to the box office (the old school method is always the best way!) Nick said those glorious words “I’ve got them”! With some serious hacking prowess he managed to avoid any queues and glide through the crumbling website, to bag us a pair of level one tickets so I can scamper to the front and gaze up at The National. I am welling up just listening to them and imagining seeing them live, so imagine what kind of hysterical creature I’ll be on the night? That’s if I get there though… I’m still imagining a piano will fall our of the sky on me as I walk to the gig doors! Lets hope there really s nothing stopping me this time.

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Anyway sunny sparkly service as usual resumes, but now you know why I had a fortnight of sad facing about the place. Like a Skeleton Key will be a little quiet this week, as I fly to Cannes later today and am work work working all week, my schedule barely leaves time for a pan au chocolat or napping, let alone blogging sadly! I’m really curious to experience Cannes and will definitely be back with a vengeance next week to let you know how it was.

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Rubbishtober

Today I was lazily browsing my inbox when I spotted a boring looking wordpress admin email creeping around under nice messages from friends and Amazon. I’m glad I opened it because it was a massively overdue reminder to cough up the $ to own my little slice of the internet, my likeaskeletonkey domain. Having paid up, it was a harsh reminder that perhaps I should add something a little shiny and new over here and get my moneys worth!

I guess I have never really settled myself on what my blog is exactly. It started off as a fashion blog until I got camera shy. Then it turned into a higgeldypiggely list of film & bookworm reviews. Then it just turned into a mix of all of these things with a few rants about Yorkshire Tea, Grandparents & Kindles vs Books chucked in. Funnily enough, my most viewed post EVER is this little nugget about The Tragic Demise of the Point Horror as it still racks up a good 100 hits a week; maybe I should accept my niche? The one thing I haven’t ever done is get particularly personal on here, despite the fact every element of my life has changed unrecognisably since I started writing here and now. So forgive me for skirting over the gory details but I do have to get a little bit personal to get past the last month… and onto writing about cheeseburgers and ghost stories and big collars again.

In mid September London had a day of fake-summer. I trotted into town and got my hair done, happily reuniting myself with my fringezille before Autumn crept in. I came home, and my boyfriend took this photograph of me in his garden, and at the time I had no idea I’d look back after a month of  lost-life and think it was the last time I was truly happy and healthy. The following Monday I went to the doctors for a standard check-up, and made an off-the-cuff comment about some pain that had been niggling me, which I followed up with but I’ve googled it and I know its absolutely normal and nothing to worry about. It turns out, it was something to worry about after all. I had a week of blood tests, other tests and aLOT of people using the C word that no one ever wants to be told is what they are beetling around looking for in your previously pretty healthy body. Fortunately it wasn’t that, but I was eventually diagnosed with a cyst that had been quietly growing inside me for long enough to be the size of a satsuma, caused by endometriosis.

And then it ruptured (make a promise to me right now, NEVER google ruptured cyst however curious you may be, as I can never unsee the horror) causing internal bleeding and me to be unable to do anything for 3 weeks except stay as still & horizontal as possible until my surgery date. I’d never had surgery or anaesthetic before, in fact all my knowledge of that area came purely from the boardgame Operation (I honestly occasionally ponder whether humans actually have a breadbox?) so it was pretty scary. The operation itself went smoothly, but everything else didn’t. From lost notes, to lost scans, to general confusion, to crumbling falling down hospitals, to low blood pressure, to blood clots, I collected quite a lot of harrowing medical memories… but all that matters really is that I’m feeling healthier now than I have for years, which makes them all worthwhile.

I think the reason I wanted to record something about this here, is that I have learnt a huge lesson which I think it’s important enough to share on the internet. Listen to your BODY. If I’m honest I had known something wasn’t quite right for ages, and if I hadn’t had a very thorough doctor it’s unlikely I’d have been diagnosed yet. Spending 6 weeks incapable of going into work, socialising, and my only trips out being to the hospital… it’s made me have such a new perspective on what is important in life and your health is something that you should be prepared to do anything to protect. My body may now be a little franken-girl-y but I’m determined to appreciate it every day and be far more attentive to any questionable goings-on in future.

I also need to use the most public place I can to thank my world-greatest boyfriend (who deserves an entire blog post in itself), parents, family and amazing friends; who barely gave me opportunity to feel glum as they ensured I was constantly bombarded with reassurance, cards, love and best wishes. Oh and even a homemade pork pie!

I had my operation in St Bart’s hospital, which it the oldest hospital in London. It was founded in 1123 and is also the oldest hospital in the whole of the United Kingdom to still exist on it’s original site, having survived the Great Fire of London and the Blitz. St Bart’s also has a museum, which I’m very much looking forward to visiting in order to spend time in the grounds as a curious guest and not a squirming-in-pain patient. A final fact that heartened me to the hospital is that Bart’s is  the location for the first ever meeting of Sherlock Holmes & Dr Watson in A Study in Scarlet. Given it’s rich historical and cultural offerings, I can’t resist sharing my own personal addition! Following my surgery, I was taking my sweet time recovering from the whole ordeal, so was admitted to a cardiac ward overnight. The ward was in one of the oldest sections of the hospital with vast windows, church bell chimes every hour and trees tapping the walls with bony autumn fingers. I’d already slept for 5 hours when I woke up at midnight and could tell the anaesthetic had mostly left my system as I could now easily snaffle two shortbreads and a cup of sugary tea, that the nurse stealth-snuck to my bed whilst the rest of the ward slept. When I fell back to ‘sleep’ I had the most paranormal experience of my entire life!

For the rest of the night various medical staff came to visit me in my bed, it felt relentless. Constantly checking my pulse, temperature, tucking me in, bringing blankets, and most frequently – gathering at the end of my bed and staring at me, occasionally whispering to each other. But these were no ordinary modern-day doctors and nurses. They were all dressed in old fashioned medical dress from various eras. I wouldn’t bet that I had the imagination or knowledge to invent these in my (at the time) drug-addled mind, and there were so many different faces and uniforms and hats and even the equipment had transformed into archaic looking items. Make of it what you will, but I was so relieved for my night in the past to be over once the sun came up. I’m looking forward to scouring the portraits that cover the museum walls and seeing if I recognise any familiar faces…

During my time in my ‘bedroom prison’ I did sneak out occasionally to breathe in a bit of Autumn, and to be honest I probably saw more than if I’d been crouched over my desk in the office. Safe to say I can’t wait to get back out there and into the world again, and enjoy what November has to offer (and hopefully blog a little more about it), as October 2012 will forever be written off as rubbishtober.                                                            .

  

  

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