Butterflies and other things

My mind has been in a fog since leaving hospital and possibly even before my hospital stay to a certain extent.

Everyday life I can cope with but anything requiring concentration or exercising my brain has become beyond me. Simple technology that I have done many times before has become overwhelming. I’m not enjoying this phase in my life. I hope it doesn’t last too much longer.

One thing I am enjoying is watching the wildlife from our window. Yesterday early evening we had a visit from a very large hedgehog. He came and had a long drink from the dogs bowl before wandering off again.

This morning, I am enjoying watching the red admiral butterflies feeding on the buddleia flowers. Basking in the sunshine after all the recent rain. I did a Google search to confirm what I thought I knew. Butterflies flap their wings whilst stationary to keep their muscles warm. I noticed one of the suggested search questions was to my surprise. (I would never thought to ask this).

Do butterflies fart?

Apparently yes they do. All creatures fart. That’s reassuring to know. Maybe I don’t need to feel embarrassed when it happens to me. It also says that Monarch butterflies are the kings of farting.

We have been trying to find a new gardener to replace my friend’s husband who has been working on mum’s garden for a number of years. He has had to stop for a number of reasons. Not least that he has moved to another part of the country.

With all the rain and sun we have had in recent weeks the garden has gone beserk. Mum did find a gardener. He came one Saturday morning for a few hours. He made a plan for what would need doing the next time. It has now been 5 or 6 weeks since he was here. The garden is growing at a far faster rate than most years. After an initial email apologising for not turning up (we don’t have a phone number). He hasn’t responded to any further messages.

Last week I was given a recommendation by a friend. I contacted the new possible gardener who said he could come on Sunday to have a look. Sunday Evening he apologised for not arriving but would come on Monday after 5pm.

By 6.30 still no sign so I contacted him. He again apologised. He could come today. I have rescheduled him for Friday as today and tomorrow our road is supposed to be closed for resurfacing work. Guess what the resurfacing isn’t happening. It might be tomorrow though!

I will believe it when I see it.

Not here yet

i have lost track of how long I have been home from hospital. I still don’t feel like I am back in the he here and now yet.

Not only do I still lack energy but mentally I don’t feel as though I am back yet. There is so much I want to do but I don’t feel that my brain is in gear. I can read or knit or watch TV. I can cook simple meals and do a bit of cleaning. Anything that takes brain power just isn’t happening.

I have been having more than my usual amount of down days. I know that I will get through this. After all I am a weeble. You can knock me down but I will get right back up. It’s just that these days it seems to be taking longer to get back to my sunny disposition.

Maybe that’s because I’m getting older but maybe it’s because I feel like the knocks are becoming more frequent. I don’t know and I don’t like it.

Once, twice three times a doctor.

This morning my day started with a very long chat with my sister in law. We keep up with what each other is doing via Facebook buts it’s been ages since we had one of our long phone chats.

Not long after that my phone rang. It was the hospital. (Not the one I usually go to). They have got the results of my latest blood tests. I am now booked in for a telephone appointment on Tuesday afternoon.

Half an hour later another phone call from the hospital. This was a wrong number as I am not and never have been called Mary.

I have been feeling out of sorts today. I have had some news that although not altogether unexpected still shook me up a bit. I felt the need for cake. So before putting out my books I went to the shop. I was wandering around at a slow plod when my phone went off again.

This time it was the doctor I spoke to 2 weeks ago. She apologised that everything wasn’t progressing as fast as she had hoped. My latest blood test shows that my iron level is steady. Still very low due to iron deficiency.

She has prescribed iron tablets but I’m not to start them until I have had my telephone consultation with the hospital. Depending on how they want to proceed the iron tablets might be a no no. She says my vitamin b12 is ok, on the low end of the range but not too low.

At the moment everything hinges on this telephone call on Tuesday. I want to get this sorted out but I’m worried about what it will lead to.

I’m not looking too far into the future just taking it one step at a time.

I had been hoping to write something light hearted today as my last few posts have been a bit depressing. Maybe tomorrow I will have something happier to post.

Alcohol and the family

A couple of days ago I noticed that someone had been having a good look around this blog. Whether it was someone I know or not I don’t know. That someone had looked at lots of posts including one called where has my dad gone.

As i scrolled through the list of posts looked at I knew what most of them were about but this one puzzled me. My dad died in 1995. So it couldn’t be about him. This particular post was written back in 2015.

Reading it again it took me a little while to remember it. I was describing a visit to one of my sons in London. On the way to the flat he shared with his now wife and another couple. They stopped at a local shop. Whilst they were inside (I was waiting outside with my youngest son). A drunk was ejected from the store.

When my other son came out he asked “where has my dad gone?” I knew instinctively what he was on about. Growing up with an alcoholic father had an impact on my boys. This particular son could do a very accurate impression of his dad when he was drunk.

When my two eldest sons were going off to university within a week of each other I wanted to take my boys out for a drink. All four of them chose non alcoholic drinks even though two were old enough to drink and one was 17.

All four boys are now adults (2 are fathers) they do all drink now but only moderately. As a young adult my eldest son used to be the designated driver when out with mates. My second son was usually the one taking care of his drunken mates. Although I have heard a few tales of his drunkenness. My younger two are not keen on alcohol.

Talking about it earlier my mother commented that when she came to our house once when eldest was about 8 or 9 he told her. ” If you have come to see my part time father, he’s at the pub”. It is sad that from a very young age he knew the telephone number of the pub off by heart. ( Before mobile phones).

As a family our lives revolved around the pub even if we were not in one. If we went anywhere at the weekends we had to be back before the pub opened. My husband couldn’t cope with getting there after the door was unlocked. During the day his friends would come and go but he would still be there.

He would frequently phone home to say he would be back in half an hour. Other times he wanted me to fetch him. When I did (with boys in tow) he would need to finish his drink. I always refused to have a drink. Sometimes it would take several hours before he managed to leave. Often I just left him there and went home.

My boys grew up knowing that their father was very good at making promises. Not good at keeping them. They learnt never to expect him to keep a promise. He would buy them play station games or football shirts to make up for not being there. I lost count of the birthdays he missed because he was five minutes away in the pub. I don’t know where he got the money for his guilt gifts. We never had enough money for the bills.

I learnt over the years that everything was an excuse to drink. Bad day at work, good day at work, hot day, wet day. Money worries or me being annoyed with him.

After I divorced him he was upset that he didn’t want to be a weekend father. I said that would be an improvement. He would arrange to see the boys. Not do much the eldest as he was off leading his own life. Frequently he would either cancel seeing them or he wanted them to lend him money for cigarettes or beer or both. When they did see him I would drop them off. Happy to have some me time. It never lasted. I think 2 hours was the longest before I got the plea from them to pick them up.

I am happy to say that he gave up drinking about 4 or maybe it’s 5 years ago now. He is better for it. He is trying hard to rebuild his relationship with his sons and have a good relationship with our grandchildren.

Since i moved back here to live with my mother I see him regularly. He has been a great help to both of us in the last couple of years. I wouldn’t go back to him but we are at least friends now.

Funny old day

The sun has been shining and there is a feel of spring in the air. The first of my seedlings are sprouting. The magnolia is coming out in bloom.

I didn’t get around to topping up the bird food until lunchtime. I have given the squirrels a new conundrum. This time it’s three pots one inside the next. Only one squirrel has been interested. He knocked it over and devoured the nuts from the smallest pot. That’s all he managed. Mind you he was chased away by a local cat. I’ve not seen that before.

I’ve been out with more Avon books. That’s all my regular customers now so next week I shall start canvassing for new customers.

I was feeling a bit down this afternoon. No particular reason I just didn’t feel myself. I am surprised that I was feeling this way. The sunny day combined with the obvious signs of spring would normally make me feel good.

My Decision

This is a piece I wrote back in 2008

It has been a couple of years now and I don’t have any regrets. Some time ago, I think it was the middle of last summer my mother asked the question.

‘If you had known how hard it was going to be would you still have done it?’

I consider this carefully before replying. I am not sure why as I knew the answer, there was never any doubt in my mind.

‘Yes most definitely, it was the best thing I could have done.’

Indeed it was the only thing I could have done. I had given it my best shot. 19 years of my life I had given to that man. But the day had come when I realised that enough was enough. He couldn’t understand it when I told him I didn’t want to continue living with him. He couldn’t work out what was wrong with me. We had a good marriage didn’t we, we never argued did we?

He was right in a way, as until the last few months we had very rarely had a row. Firstly he was never around to have a row with as he was always either at work, pub or asleep. (the perfect marriage in some ways).

Secondly we never rowed because, when he was around he made me feel so useless and weak that I never dared to argue with him and on the occasions when I tried to vent my anger on him he would turn it around to be my fault. Like the many Saturday mornings when he came home from shopping. (I wasn’t allowed to shop I spent too much, whereas he always bought bargains – you know the deals where if you buy this you get that free or the end of date things). We had a freezer full of things we would never use and a fridge full of things that had to be eaten in one day but nothing for the rest of the week.

He often came in with a mood on, this would make me grumpy, (no one likes to be moaned at for no reason). Because I was now grumpy he would complain about my mood and stomp off to the pub.

During all these years he would tell me that I was

‘fat, ugly, useless with a brain like a sieve’

Now after so many years of being told this it becomes hard to believe otherwise. I believe that if you get married you should try to make the marriage work. I was not going to give up easily. I had to try to make it work. Besides I had nowhere to go and 4 children to consider. Because I had done such a good job of trying to make our marriage work he had no idea that it wasn’t working. The end of our marriage came as a big shock to him. For me it never really was a marriage. I had never been in love with him. We had never courted as such, just fell into a relationship as when we met we were both getting over broken hearts and needed someone to turn to. If I hadn’t got pregnant the marriage would never have happened.

Now, though we are divorced and I have never been happier. Financially we were never really solvent as a couple. Does anyone know a solvent alcoholic? But we did have two wages coming in, his full time wage and my part time wage (part time!! I worked longer hours than he did for half the money).

Now it is just me and the boys, I am the only one bringing any money into the home. It has been a struggle and there are days when we have to keep our coats on because it’s too darn cold and I don’t have any spare cash to buy gas. (Yes I have had to get a key meter for both the gas and electricity). There are days when we have just 2 slices of bread and no milk. But we manage, I have not killed any of them off yet.

Are we better off now? Financially no we are worse off but I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, it isn’t going to be like this forever and now that I have a full time job that I enjoy things can only get better.

However we as a family unit are much happier. Gone are the days of dreading the door opening, wondering if he is in one of his soppy drunk moods or in a nasty bad tempered mood that has everyone either cowering behind a cushion or hiding away in the bedrooms. Gone are the days where everyone had to be silent or risk his bellow of

‘Stop that noise’ or ‘be quiet’

In the past two years there has very rarely been a cross word spoken between any of the five of us. It took me a few months to realise that he was never going to be here again chastising me for staying up late or reading when I should be doing something else. I can have friends here if I choose. (visitors were forbidden when he was here).

Our house rings with the sound of music (not always to my taste, teenagers!!) and laughter where before there was only silence broken by shouts of ‘silence’.

There is an air of confidence about us all that was not there before. I have learnt that I am worth so much more than I ever knew. I am happy, I laugh, I joke, I feel sexy, I feel worthy, I have finally come to love the person I am.

Lucky or not so lucky

I’ve noticed recently that quite a few of my friends have been mentioning the pain of living with endometriosis

Common signs and symptoms of endometriosis include:

  1. Painful periods (dysmenorrhea). Pelvic pain and cramping may begin before and extend several days into a menstrual period. …
  2. Pain with intercourse. …
  3. Pain with bowel movements or urination. …
  4. Excessive bleeding. …
  5. Infertility. …
  6. Other signs and symptoms.

When I was a teenager I was one of the last of my friends to start my periods. At the time I was ashamed but looking back I was lucky. Once my periods began so did the suffering. Pain like nothing I had ever experienced in my short life. It would begin on day one and continue until the bleeding stopped on day 9 or 10. Most of my friends were regular and knew exactly when to expect their period to begin. I didn’t realise for some time that other girls didn’t experience the same problems I did. I was very irregular so didn’t know from one day to the next when I would have a flood. I often finished a lesson and stood up to discover that both my skirt and the chair were covered in blood.

My periods were generally over a week long and sometimes I would start one only a week or two after the previous one but at other times I could go upto 2 months between. I would need to take pain relief and would spend hours curled up with a hot water bottle clutched to my abdomen.

When I was about 15 or 16 (so long ago now that I don’t remember exactly) my mother took me to see my dr. He told me that I would grow out of this and everything would settle down by the time I was 17. It didn’t.

As the years went by I would like to say that I got used to this. I didn’t. My periods were always long, always heavy from start to finish and always painful.

In my mid twenties I had my first child and a couple of years later my second. Quickly followed by my third. It was after the birth of my third child that I went almost a year without having any periods. I got into a habit of marking on the calendar how many days passed between my periods. Eventually my Gynecologist did some tests and found that I had polycystic ovaries. My ovaries were not working as they should meaning that they didn’t release oestrogen as often as they should and therefore producing eggs. Many women with this problem have difficulty with conceiving.

I feel blessed that not only did I manage to have 3 healthy sons but also had a fourth son. I was given some treatment for this, but not until after my fourth and final son was born. Among the tests I had undergone I had a bone density test which showed that due to my lack of oestrogen over the years my bone density was not what it should be. I was put on the mini pill (even though I had been sterilized by this time). This was to boost my oestrogen levels as I was even in my mid 30s a prime candidate for Osteoporosis. I couldn’t start this medication until after I had stopped breast feeding my baby.

When I was 38 I was diagnosed with stage three cervical cancer. The treatment for this was intensive resulting in what they called a non surgical hysterectomy. At this point I went through early menopause. This was in itself a blessing for me as it meant the end of all those long, heavy and painful periods. It also meant no more babies but I had already finished having my family so that was fine by me.

I know that I am not the only female in my family to have problems with their reproductive system. My daughter in law is currently in hospital having had emergency surgery for an ectopic pregnancy. She has also had two miscarriages in recent years. I myself had two miscarriages (before and after my first son). Two of my sisters in law also had problems.

My daughter in law is very passionate about supporting Tommys Charity for stillbirth and neonatal births. We both believe that the loss of a child at whichever stage shouldn’t be swept under the carpet. Women (and men) should be able to express their loss without it being a taboo topic. I also believe that other “womens problems” are not spoken about enough. Just because these problems are relating to womens reproductive system doesn’t make them shameful. They are not something that should only be spoken about in a whisper hidden from everyone.

I am unlucky that I suffered right from the beginning with endometriosis. I am lucky that this problem was cut short by my cancer treatment. I am unlucky that I had cancer. I am unlucky that I had polycystic ovaries. I am lucky that I had 4 healthy sons. My life has been one big rollercoaster of being unlucky but balancing it out with good luck.

My quiet world

I was in my mid twenties when I first realised properly, what I had always known. I am partially deaf. As a young child I remember several late night visits to the Dr with ear problems. At primary school we had regular hearing checks. We would sit in a quiet room wearing headphones with the instruction to tap the box when we heard the beep. For some reason nobody picked up that I was tapping the box randomly just because I hadn’t heard a beep for a while.

In my mid twenties I was working on a cash desk in a cash and carry store. I realised that it depended where in the line I was working as to whether I could hear our supervisors. I also noticed that I could hear better from my left ear than my right one when using the telephone.

I had a hearing test and was told that unlike the majority of people with a hearing loss I was losing the lower tone spectrum where for most people it is the higher pitch. There is an operation that could be performed but the difference it would make would be minimal so at that time not worth going through, however at some point in the future if the change in my hearing was so that it became more beneficial I could have it done.

In my early 30s after having my youngest son I noticed that my hearing had got worse. Where most new mothers don’t want visitors knocking loudly on their door for fear of disturbing the baby, I had a note telling them to knock loudly. I was often surprised when one of the family rushed to the door when I hadn’t heard it. I had another hearing test. My hearing had deteriorated and now both ears were of a similar level. I would get a hearing aid but needed to decide which ear I wanted to be fitted for. I chose my right ear (I’m not entirely sure why but it seemed logical to me at the time).

Wow! I could hear the trains from our house, I hadn’t known that, or that our cooker made a noise when in use. I wore my hearing aid to work. Ouch my world suddenly became noisy, I could hear every printer, fax machine etc.

In my 40s I had yet another hearing test and this time got a hearing aid for each ear. This helped but it wasn’t really helping me to hear people. It was more a case of amplifying everything. I couldn’t wear them in the company of a group of children. Being involved in a local youth football club I was often in a sports hall with a group of enthusiastic children. Because I have no problems hearing high pitch it would become painful for me.

By now I had learnt that most children and the majority of women (so long as they spoke normally and didn’t whisper) were fine for me. However I have a problem if people are facing away or speaking from another room. Men who have lower tone voices and or have their hand over or near their mouths I have no chance.

I don’t watch a lot of tv, or rather I only half watch it because I struggle to hear what is going on. I miss the punchline on jokes. I guess I probably only hear about a third (if I’m lucky). It’s almost like watching silent movies with the odd words thrown in. Even talking to my own family especially my sons is a struggle. It is not unknown for me to think the topic of conversation is completely different to the actual topic.

Sometimes my problem isn’t the volume, I can hear people talking but it sounds to me like a foreign language. I have to listen out for clues but by the time I have figured it out the conversation has moved on to something else.

Contraction words are a big problem for me. I never know if someone could or couldn’t, would or wouldn’t etc. This is why I prefer to communicate via the written word rather than the spoken word. This has also caused a problem in my creative writing. I find it very difficult to write as people speak because I feel a need to make every word clear just as I would when I speak. Which I know is not natural for most people.

Through out my life I have been asked “what was that?” or “did you hear that?” Very often I didn’t hear anything. I am sure that for everyone who can hear properly it must be difficult to understand what it’s like to be in my world. I often get asked why don’t I wear my hearing aids more often. They don’t actually help. If I wear them I still can’t understand what people are saying but when I take them off I notice that the world has gone quieter. They make the world around me noisier but rarely make it easy to hear the spoken word.

My husband often said he would get an old fashioned hearing horn to shout into my ear. Not very helpful.

I want to ask my GP to arrange another hearing test for me(its been about 7 years since my last one) but feel that with everything else going on at the moment it wouldn’t be a priority for the NHS. I manage my life reasonably well in my semi silent world, it would just be nice to hear everything going on around me.

The Refuge is not just a refuge

A friend of mine is raising money for a very good cause. The Womens Refuge. Of course I have donated to this. I don’t know where our local Refuge is and that is how it should be. However I have had help and support from one of their Out Reach staff. Back in 2006/7 I was going through a very difficult divorce. We were both living in the same house. I had 4 teenage sons (3 & a pre-teen). I had nowhere to go and couldn’t leave my boys behind.

I had reason to go to the police on a number of occasions. We were registered as a family at risk. Social Services were meant to help my youngest son especially but that didn’t happen. Instead I was given an out reach worker from the Womens Refuge Service. The lady assigned to me was both lovely and supportive. She gave me emotional and practical support even going with me to court.

At the best of times The Refuge doesn’t have enough resources or accommodation to help every woman who need it. During the current pandemic it has been in the news countless times that women at risk at in even greater risk during this time.

I am proud that Avon (for whom I am a Sales Leader) are supporting the Refuge organisation and have donated to the cause.

Refuge

I bet most people are not aware that Avon support this great cause along with other womens causes like Breast Cancer.

I was talking to my friend about the Refuge and how they helped me. She has also gone through a rough time and I sent her a copy of an article I wrote back in about 2008 or 2009. I sent her a copy of it as I thought it might resonate with her. She said she read it twice and thought I should publish it. My intention when writing it was to be honest about my situation but at the same time keeping it light hearted. Do you think I managed that?

MY DECISION

It has been a couple of years now and I don’t have any regrets. Some time ago, I think it was the middle of last summer my mother asked the question.

‘If you had known how hard it was going to be would you still have done it?’

I consider this carefully before replying. I am not sure why as I knew the answer, there was never any doubt in my mind.

‘Yes most definitely, it was the best thing I could have done.’

Indeed it was the only thing I could have done. I had given it my best shot. 19 years of my life I had given to that man. But the day had come when I realised that enough was enough. He couldn’t understand it when I told him I didn’t want to continue living with him. He couldn’t work out what was wrong with me. We had a good marriage didn’t we, we never argued did we?

He was right in a way, as until the last few months we had very rarely had a row. Firstly he was never around to have a row with as he was always either at work, pub or asleep. (the perfect marriage in some ways).

Secondly we never rowed because, when he was around he made me feel so useless and weak that I never dared to argue with him and on the occasions when I tried to vent my anger on him he would turn it around to be my fault. Like the many Saturday mornings when he came home from shopping. (I wasn’t allowed to shop I spent too much, whereas he always bought bargains – you know the deals where if you buy this you get that free or the end of date things). We had a freezer full of things we would never use and a fridge full of things that had to be eaten in one day but nothing for the rest of the week.

He often came in with a mood on, this would make me grumpy, (no one likes to be moaned at for no reason). Because I was now grumpy he would complain about my mood and stomp off to the pub.

During all these years he would tell me that I was

‘fat, ugly, useless with a brain like a sieve’

Now after so many years of being told this it becomes hard to believe otherwise. I believe that if you get married you should try to make the marriage work. I was not going to give up easily. I had to try to make it work. Besides I had nowhere to go and 4 children to consider. Because I had done such a good job of trying to make our marriage work he had no idea that it wasn’t working. The end of our marriage came as a big shock to him. For me it never really was a marriage. I had never been in love with him. We had never courted as such, just fell into a relationship as when we met we were both getting over broken hearts and needed someone to turn to. If I hadn’t got pregnant the marriage would never have happened.

Now, though we are divorced and I have never been happier. Financially we were never really solvent as a couple. Does anyone know a solvent alcoholic? But we did have two wages coming in, his full time wage and my part time wage (part time!! I worked longer hours than he did for half the money).

Now it is just me and the boys, I am the only one bringing any money into the home. It has been a struggle and there are days when we have to keep our coats on because it’s too darn cold and I don’t have any spare cash to buy gas. (Yes I have had to get a key meter for both the gas and electricity). There are days when we have just 2 slices of bread and no milk. But we manage, I have not killed any of them off yet.

Are we better off now? Financially no we are worse off but I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, it isn’t going to be like this forever and now that I have a full time job that I enjoy things can only get better.

However we as a family unit are much happier. Gone are the days of dreading the door opening, wondering if he is in one of his soppy drunk moods or in a nasty bad tempered mood that has everyone either cowering behind a cushion or hiding away in the bedrooms. Gone are the days where everyone had to be silent or risk his bellow of

‘Stop that noise’ or ‘be quiet’

In the past two years there has very rarely been a cross word spoke between any of the five of us. It took me a few months to realise that he was never going to be here again chastising me for staying up late or reading when I should be doing something else. I can have friends here if I choose. (visitors were forbidden when he was here).

Our house rings with the sound of music (not always to my taste, teenagers!!) and laughter where before there was only silence broken by shouts of ‘silence’.

There is an air of confidence about us all that was not there before. I have learnt that I am worth so much more than I ever knew. I am happy, I laugh, I joke, I feel sexy, I feel worthy, I have finally come to love the person I am.

 

I might add that all these years later this husband doesn’t drink any more. He has become a different man. Not everything has changed but we have managed to become friends since the arrival of our first grandchild.

Dark cloud on a sunny day

I’m looking out onto a sunny day and not feeling the joy this would usually bring. Anyone who knows me would say that I am a naturally happy and positive person. Throughout my life I have suffered from depression although not so much in recent years. I have mostly managed to keep it at bay.

I think my whole life has been one long struggle. Poverty, living with not one but two alcoholic husbands. (yes I know one is unfortunate, two is foolish).

18 years ago I was starting the journey into treatment for stage 3 cancer. I was given the all clear in September 2001 a few days before 19/11. it was still another couple of months before I returned to my part time work. It took time to build back the strength to do more than just the basic requirements of family life. I remember very clearly the words of my Macmillan nurse telling me that a very few people have long term bowel/bladder problems following the treatment I had undergone.

I think that after all these years it is safe to say that I am one of these few people. I wasn’t aware until two years ago when I was so ill that I was literally housebound in agony with no appetite. My cancer treatment had made me prone to kidney infections. I had suffered repeated bouts of flu like symptoms, pain in every part of my body and a shivering fever. What scared me the most was the drastic weight loss and the frequent passing of blood in my urine. After many blood tests, ultra sound scans, CT scan it was decided that the cause of all these symptoms was a severe kidney infection.  A course of strong antibiotics and forcing myself to eat again I began to get better. The next year and a half I have managed to stay reasonably healthy.

The last few weeks I have felt unwell, I was getting those flu like symptoms again. I have been struggling to force myself to eat for a few weeks and the blood in my urine has increased from being once or twice a week to multiple times a day.  I never know when the blood will come but I always know when it does because passing water becomes very painful. (it makes me want to cry). I don’t have thrush or cystitis both very unpleasant but luckily not problems that I have had to deal with for years. However as I sit here now I have a pain in my urethera. I don’t know how to describe it other than a feeling that I have a holly leaf wedged inside me. I have been to see the Dr, I don’t have an infection at the moment. The flu symptoms have subsided. On Friday I had to take a day off work as I had a severe stomach upset which left me on the loo for hours. When not on the loo I was sleeping.

I was trying to force myself to eat to get back my energy but scared to eat because my bowels were playing up. Ever since my cancer treatment I have suffered with bowel problems. I can never be confident that my bowels won’t erupt with little or no notice. It makes being out of the house very dangerous for me. Yes I really chose the right job for me. Being in my car for hours on end delivering parcels. There have been days when I have had to make a mad dash home for the loo. I don’t always make it.  It has been bad enough for all these years but now that I my bladder problems have increased over recent years it is getting me down. Following a recent urodynamics test (which wasn’t very successful) the registrar tells me that my bladder has damage from my radiotherapy back in 2001. Cheers I had worked that out.

This has been my life for so many years now that I don’t remember what it was like to have normal toilet functions. I find it both physically and mentally distressing every time I need the toilet. It must be wonderful not to have any worries or distress when sitting on the toilet. I just don’t remember.

All this added to my recent bout of being unwell has led me into a dark place. I don’t usually allow myself to wallow for long but this time I feel myself being dragged under. I know I have things to do and people to talk to but it all seems as though my life is too much effort. I have my estranged husband calling me with messages saying that he needs my help. I can’t help him I have my own demons to deal with. If it wasn’t for my four sons and their growing families/partnerships I just wouldn’t bother getting up each day. I just want to give in to oblivion. I know I won’t, I have my grandson and another grandchild on the way to think about.  If I am honest though I am fed up with my life.

To make life even better within minutes of posting this I fell. I missed the bottom step of our stairs, flinging myself and my laundry into a heap on the floor. Surprisingly my ankles were fine. However I did have incredible pain in my feet. I later discovered the my left big toe is bruised and I had some painful swelling on the side of my right foot. Having wrapped my foot in a towel and some frozen sweetcorn, the swelling subsided. Now three days later my right foot is only painful when knocked but my left big toe is still painful but I am able to walk on it fairly well now.

I have just been reading about PRD Pelvic Radiation Disease Pelvic Radiation Disease

This is new information for me. I had no idea that what I have been dealing with for the last 17 years is a common condition for those of us who have had radiation treatment for Cervical Cancer. Had I known about this sooner I would have made more noise about it with my GP. Instead I have lived with it believing that nothing could be done.  Over the last couple of years I have had various tests and screenings for my bladder problems but never for my bowel problems.

Yes, I am grateful for the treatment that I had which has enabled me to  continue with my life and watch my sons grow up. However I would certainly say that these apparently not so rare side effects of radiation treatment have affected my quality of life.