Labelling My Condition – Endometriosis

A personal statement, in regards to my general health

Labelling My Condition – Endometriosis

Pre operation and post operation.

Shortly afterwards I was placed on a drip.

The start of this week has been the roughest I’ve faced in this recent chapter of my life. Aiming to remove a benign lump in my uterus, in theatre consultants discovered extensive Endometriosis tissue, the removal of which left me in a world of pain, unable to stomach food and doped up on a cocktail of morphine and other drugs. 

I have so much respect for the tremendous staff at BMI Droitwich Hospital for their expertise and care. Those who wiped away my tears, sat with me through the night when I was at my worst and made me laugh when I needed it most. Aside from now walking around like an old woman (blame the stiches) I’m equally lucky to have an incredibly supportive family who’ve been nursing me back to health since my hospital discharge.

A final point for all my women in arms; DON’T suffer in silence, DON’T take no for an answer and DON’T ever ignore your body. Endometriosis is notorious for being side-lined by health professionals; don’t be a muppet like me, too scared to rock the boat.

After years of suffering, I finally have a diagnosis. Here’s to a future where I can label my condition, access support groups and, now, better understand myself.

With love xx

Edit: I’ve been overwhelmed with positive well-wishers and messages. Thank you. I’m heavily contemplating writing a separate blog post on how I got to this point. Not necessarily a mini-saga (“it all started when I was 12 years old…”) but a piece covering the last few months. Despite all the pain, there have been a couple of lighter moments that it would be equally nice to share. Stay tuned. x

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Mr Blobby’s Take on Mental Health

With everything else going on at the moment, there are a lot of people also talking about mental health (and for good reason, like so many it’s a topic close to my heart).

The way I see mental health, it’s a lot like Mr Blobby’s house. Now, bear with me on this…

(By the way, if you don’t know who Mr Blobby is, he/it was my life in the 1990s and the single weirdest thing to happen to British TV, as demonstrated by Jack Whitehall.)

(My understanding is that to anyone who didn’t grow up with this character it’s the scariest thing you’ll ever come across.)

What’s Mr Blobby got to do with mental health?

The outer bubble

When it comes to how you look and act (especially on the internet), to most of the world you’re like an episode of Noel’s House Party, living this amazing life that people absolutely envy you for. Grand houses, upbeat music, laughing along the way; you’re living the dream!

The secondary bubble

Your friends and family meanwhile, they know you better than that. The flashy estate on TV, that doesn’t exist, that isn’t the real Crinkly Bottom. No, the real CB is somewhere in Somerset, remind me again Noel…?

Gotcha, near Chard.

Those close to you, they see you as being more like Mr Blobby’s house ‘Dunblobbin’. This unique and random construction that is completely random and, to be honest, a bit bizarre. But, they know you’re owning your take on weird and that’s why they love you so.

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The inner bubble

But sometimes, it’s really not okay.

Really, things are like Dunblobbin after it was rediscovered in 2014, almost two decades after the park closed…

I.e. in your own head, things are a mess

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And deep inside, you don’t even recognise the things you see and feel. And it’s not quirky or unique, it’s scary.

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Guess what? Sometimes life is tough.

And I’m not saying that in a ‘they’ve run out of avocados at the supermarket’ kinda way, I mean it’s tough, as in a real challenge.

A short while ago I went through a rocky patch when event after event hit my life like a kick to the shins. While writing was great for getting out the anger (maybe one day I’ll publish the drafts), it wasn’t helping me get out of the rut.

The game changer came when one of my good friends sent me several texts:

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Admittedly she’d had a little to drink at the time, but it actually made a massive difference in my mood.

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I always harp on about lollipop moments, the idea of recognising someone for the things they don’t see, that I’d never thought about receiving it in return.

(Video for context.)

I realised that while I loved writing, sitting alone in my house and getting pent up over the things I couldn’t change would get me nowhere. So I started going out more, re-engaging with people I hadn’t seen in years. And God did I feel better for it.

There are still things I’d like to change and nothing is ever stable; like all humans I have my good and my bad days. But I just wanted to say that to anyone not feeling entirely themselves that it’s okay. Things can get better.

Never underestimate the power of friendship…and Mr Blobby.

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Nb – for anyone interested, here is a great mini-documentary video charting the rise and fall of the Crinkley Bottom theme park.

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Update: This post was originally drafted in January 2020, prior to the mass spread of Covid-19 across Europe. Author fully endorses staying safe and being considerate of others in the prevent of further spread. Be kind.

STOP BUYING ALL THE TOILET ROLL!

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