There isn’t really much to tell you about and as predicted my posts are a bit here and there as some are for different things and blah blah blah. Anyway, I thought I’d quickly do an update on what’s going on: Nothing…
…Unless you wanna know about my fun trips rollin’ down some very pot holed and bumpy park roads on a wheelchair or the infamous game of ‘poo roulette’ that me and john continue to fail at (If you didn’t know what poo roulette is, it’s for people with IBD or other similar ‘incontinent’ issues where you basically gotta take the chance of pushing a painful fart out and hoping it isn’t a shit. It could be a fart and it could be diarrhoea – it’s the risk you take for the game.) Also, lil tip to spell diarrhoea correctly, not that you would be spelling It a lot… unless you’re a fellow spoonie and then this one’s for you! Dash in a rush, run home or else accident. There you go there’s an easy way to remember how to spell it, courtesy of Mr king from Year 9 science class.
Anyway, as far as recovery goes its not been too bad, each day is getting better and I’m healing slowly. But I guess my ‘I can’t do anything please do it for me’ façade wore off when someone mentioned the spoons, there was no way, belly cut open or not I was missing out of yet another month of cheap alcohol. I’d had to be teetotal for long enough through the two pregnancies I was not letting anything get in the way of a cheeky 2 for 12 pitcher this time. So yeah, dosed up on tramadol I stopped playing the patient and well…got a little bit drunk/high/ don’t mix tramadol and vodka (guaranteed fail at poo roulette). Surprisingly my stomach handled it very well, but then again, it’s probably evolved to become alcohol’s prime habitat. However, all jokes aside it really did cheer me up (not just the alcohol) just being able to leave the house and do something normal and fun again with the people I love without feeling like I am their dying grandmother who needs looking after and constant supervision. Although the next idea wasn’t such a great one. A curry. Having not eaten a substantial meal (AND STILL NOT LOST WEIGHT HFJDIGVFDBJDS) and y’know standard British thing for a pint in the spoons and a curry I thought why not. Well big mistake, yet another poo roulette fail.
Since then I have recovered well, instead of before where I would be shitting and throwing up for days continuously, post-curry it was only the next morning I was able to sit up and have a cup of tea and feel fine again. Along with my fast flare recoveries I’ve been feeling a lot more awake and less of that ‘hungover’ fatigue so fingers crossed I am free of a flare at the moment. Me and john plan on going swimming at the weekend to strengthen my abdomen a little and get my body back into a little exercise – not that I plan on doing any exercise any time soon, so it should be a good way of testing out our matching shark attack scars on terrified children in the pool ready for Crete in a months time.
On the house note, the bloody estate agent in charge of exchanging the keys has decided to go on holiday, (how dare she) so we have two more weeks to wait until completion. Although because I ‘accidentally’ booked a holiday whilst high on tramadol without reading the actual itinerary or price we will now be moving in without any furniture and living on a mattress on the floor. But it’s okay because I have my fancy matt black cutlery and Oliver Bonas styled bowls. Yeah, a little tip when booking a holiday – always actually read the terms and conditions of what your booking entails. Dickhead Chloe was far too miserable being stuck in bed mixed with tramadol mixed with the prospect of a holiday, decided not to do that and booked a holiday to what people have described as ‘hell on earth’ from an airport miles away from where we live. When I came to cancel the booking which I had not even noticed had doubled in price because dickhead Chloe thought per person was actually the entire total, we were rejected unless we paid flights and booking fee which was pretty much half the holiday anyway – which I cannot dispute, was in the terms and conditions I so excitably ignored in the first place. To cut a long story short we have decided we are going on the holiday and have explored the part of the island we are visiting online for places to visit if the hotel does turn out to be what ‘Vincent, 32, Business Arts manager from Chelsea’ says it is on trip advisor (Says it all – Zero credibility). As long as there’s the sun, the sea, good food and it’s not fucking Birmingham, I’m a happy bunny.
In the meantime, I have an exciting post coming soon with an exclusive interview with Lauren Wood, Author of the debut novel ‘Heir’ and I’ll just be here looking at all the new furniture I can’t afford and binge-watching Netflix as usual.