HERE YEEEE HERE YEEEE! The Gallbladder has fought it’s last round, sang it’s last song and … I can’t think or any other irrelevant analogies to misuse so i’ll wind it in by just confirming that the gall bladder and all of it’s toxic stones have now been evicted.

5 days ago the wonders that be at Homerton University Hospital stabbed me up 4 more times and whipped the little fucker right out. My torso looks not too dissimilar to a game of Kerplunk now its home to 11 incisions but hey, it was necessary.

Image result for kerplunk

I was greeted at hospital by a team of nurses that each weirdly resembled a member of The N.W.A and I couldn’t have felt more secure and looked after. Fuckin’ ace bitches every one of them. ❤

Image result for N.W.A gif

They even ‘raised the roof’ when I finally managed to part with a piss after 2673838 million attempts post surgery, a sure clear sign I was fit and well enough to go home.

Image result for raise the roof gif

As elated as I am knowing that cretin gall bladder will never cause me strife again I can’t help but feel so very sad I’m under strict instruction to stay out of the gym for 6 whole weeks. No lifting, no intense exercise and NO core stability class. The last one I am not so sad about.

I was also told AFTER surgery that I will now be susceptible to hernias (that’s fine, I can avoid this if I follow the post op advice) BUT.. what I cannot avoid is a life long battle with intense bouts of ultimate diarrhoea. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH Eh? Y THO?

As a predominantly constipated individual i’m looking on the bright side and figuring that this may even out the solid shit with the sloppy shit and settle on a an equilibrium of just standard normal shit.

Feel free to piss on my chips and tell me this is bull shit but it’s a theory i’m running with until proven otherwise. Otherwise being yesterday when I experienced my first ’bout’ … that was the first time though, i’m not taking that as a given for future reference.

Let me just bury my big head right back in the sand on this matter.

Image result for burying head in sand gif

But again, FUCK ALL THAT. The pain is over, the attacks are no more and even though i’m only 5 days post op I feel an overwhelming relief that this 8 month ‘agony phase’ is now over and done with. 6 weeks recoup is a small price to pay. A life time of turbo shits is a small price to pay.  A stab wound straight through my mother fuckin belly button is a small price to pay.


BTW, this 1 incision makes me feel queasy. All the others are sweet, legit, perfect… all stab wounds but NOT THROUGH MY BELLY BUTTON.

The belly button is the gate way to your soul, if this unravels then as far as I’ve been told SINCE BIRTH your entire body and all of its contents will just fall out of your skin.

I’ve always had an ‘inny’ belly button which means I’ve always liked to put things inside it as a little secret space no one could ever find but me. I held coins in it as a child, crayons and even chocolate at one point. Very messy, I don’t recommend it.

So it unsettled me that this sacred haven that has stopped me falling apart for 33 years has now been penetrated by my sisters in The N.W.A, sorry NHS.

I forgive them of course, but always give a sister a heads up when you’re gonna go messing with her coin holder. It’s just manners bro.





The Gall Sadder Blues

So it seems quite a lot has happened since my post last week where life was nothing but sweet peach ready to be devoured.

This week, all hell broke loose INSIDE OF ME.

Image result for exorcist gif

If you’re a regz reader you will no doubt be totally familiar with my ‘Acid Re-flux’ woes.

Having never experienced re-flux prior to my surgery I took it as gospel when the DR diagnosed me that it was pretty common to feel like the pits of hell were imploding within my body.

Why would I question that intense body cramps, spewing up blood and generally clinging on to dear life wasn’t just totally common when several DR’s and dietitians have told me it’s part of the process.

I’d cut out the caffeine and the bread and most gluten. I’d made it my routine to walk off all foods consumed each time I put one bite in my mouth box. I’d followed all the rules.

Why the fuck is this still an issue?

Monday last week agony struck. Luckily for me I have really fuckin understanding bosses who’ve let me work from home to allow me to sit in a hot bath whilst I work or pace the living room to try and ease the cramps.

By Wednesday shit had gone turbo. After hours of cramps, tears, sick and more blood my DR sent me straight to A&E where I was admitted pretty much on arrival.

Image result for vomiting blood gif

My first night in hospital I was woken at approximately 3am by the feeling of something very hard and cold sneaking into my ear.

I opened my eyes confused. A man stood hovering over me with 2 swabs in 1 hand and a thermometer in the other. He took my temperature clumsily and opened his first swab.

I asked several times what this was for and was met with a very muffled response before I felt my corneas burning from my skull with the brightest flash light beaming directly into my face.

I prepared myself for death. The grim reaper had come to collect me.

Image result for grim reaper gif

I heard the muffled voice again.. ‘swab nose, swab groin.. do it now’.

First off, this Grim Reaper is a bit pushy and secondly his annunciation is really getting on my tits.

I sat up in bed.

‘What’s happening here man?’

The light above my bed came on.

The night nurse guy waved the swabs in my face and turned around with his back to me.


I swabbed. He turned around. I see the second swab aiming for my face. The swabbed hit my nose. He shouted ‘NOSE RING’ I flinched. He kept repeating swab.

Related image

I’m so fuckin confused. He turned his back to me again. I was asking questions but he just ignored me repeatedly. He turns back to me. The torch is back in my face.


He’s lip reading me in the pitch black.

He runs away never to be seen again with groin swabs.

2 days of nil by mouth and 2 days of clear liquids (water) several blood tests, several piss tests, 1 endoscopy, 1 abdomen X-Ray and 1 ultrasound I was finally diagnosed with Gall Stones and also an acute obstruction in my sleeved stomach.


Like, legit I mean it when I say YAS. Some people panic, worry when they receive news something is wrong and another operation, potential two operations are on the cards but I’m fuckin elated man.


What was the alternative, burry my head in the ‘acid re-flux’ sand fo’lyf and carry on les miserables in pure agony every other day. Naaaaaah mate, Allow that.

Once again the NHS have been good to me. Yes, it’s a slow process but see how fuckin fast you work with one set of hands and 18 patients on your ward. What do you want, a fuckin Octopus?

Image result for octopus gif

There was one, okay two slight mishaps where the surgeon got me confused with Lisa in the bed next door and tried to wheel me off to have my gallbladder removed. In hind sight, I wish he did now. Could have saved me 4-6 weeks waiting for my operation.

The other incident was pretty traumatic. A nurse came to my cubicle, drew the curtains and sat me down for a serious conversation.

‘So, Miss O’Hara. When were you first diagnosed with Diabetes?’


Nurse, looks through her notes confused

‘Oh Sorry Miss O’Hara, have you got diabetes?’

‘You’ve taken nearly all the blood in my body over the last few days, you tell me’

‘No you’re fine Miss O’Hara, good bye’

Image result for evil nurse gif

Surrreeeeee that made me feel so great, especially when a second nurse came and asked for my insulin instructions later in the day. I was getting paranoid man. Do I have diabetes?

Surly after losing nearly 8 stone that should be the least of my issues at this point.

Turns out I 100% do NOT have diabetes.

My life now is heading back to basics. Back to soft foods, soups, baby food and as little fat as possible.

The aim is to keep the pain to a minimum as much as humanly possible until surgery and life can then resume back to normal.

If that means sloppy shit for another 6 weeks then so be it.


Easier said than done? Watch this space.

‘Cock Blocked By My Own Belly’ Worst Confession Ever? YAS.

I promise I won’t bore you this week with my never ending acid woes bar the one very quick update that they are now referring me for potential Gall Bladder dramz. Fuck it, if it is my Gall Bladder causing so much beef they can just whip the fucker out and have done with it, right?

I’m like 100% chill about this. Let’s move on.

Image result for i'm fine gif

In other news I darted over the 7 stone LOST mile stone and have now exactly 2stone 13lbs left to lose to hit my target weight.

By Christmas (IF) I continue the way I have so far I should be bang on time to recreate the Mean Girls classic hit ‘Jingle Bell Rock’ in my soon to be purchased ‘Slutty Santa’ outfit.

Image result for mean girls jingle bell rock gif

If all does not go to plan and instead I decide to blend up 294632032936749030 selection boxes and nail it in pints as opposed to my trusty Slender Blend I shall follow my option 2 route straight to Primark for a big fat Santa Onesy and spend the festive holidays with my belly hanging out like Waynetta Slob.

Image result for fat drunk santa gif

In fairness neither of these two options sound up my street but it’s nice to have goals, gets me?

Speaking of goals, well more of a Bulls Eye target really… How much better is sex when your belly is out of the way? Legit man. I had no idea for so long I was being cock blocked by my own jelly.

Yes, I am aware this is ‘TMI’ but for all you post op readers out there, don’t pretend you haven’t been thinking the exact same thing as me you animals.


Image result for cock blocked gif

On a more wholesome note, can someone please for the love of god tell me when I’m going to be able to shit again like a real person? I’m guessing it’s not OK to still rely on Laxatives once a week before I start walking like the hunchback of Notre Dame.

Something’s got to give man, the struggle is very very real.

As always the positives out way the negatives. Yes my glasses are now far too big for my face but the silver lining is that I now have an excuse to buy new ones.

Yes my hair is still falling out but on a plus side it means Leigh doesn’t peck my head when I drop £160 at the hairdressers instead of free styling my head off at home like a boss man.

Yes I can never pooh but on the plus side I NEVER POOH.

Like, ever.