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.

‘SWAB GROIN’

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.

OMG HE’S DEAF.

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.

YAS.

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.

THIS MEANS I CAN BE CURED

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?’

‘I HAVE 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.

I WILL NOT BE DEFEATED BY A FUCKIN STONE.

Easier said than done? Watch this space.

A&E = Acid & Excrement, In My Case.

So lots of fun things have been happening this last week.

Spent an ultimate LOL night at the hospital thanks to this acid reflux business that now seems ever present in my day to day life.

Normally an attack will last approximately 20 minutes. I pace around, guzzle Lansoprazole with Gaviscon and maybe stew in a hot bath for an hour or so whilst my muscles start to relax.

NORMALLY.

This time was a right hoot, 4 solid hours of torment. Pure agony. Now, I pride myself on having a pretty solid pain threshold. I once fell out of a shower cubicle and broke my leg before managing to get a flight from Switzerland dragging my club foot along for the ride. IM SO HARD.

But this, this was bull shit man. I tried to walk the pain off and almost fainted outside my flat before vomiting multiples times. And yes, Gaviscon does taste worse coming up than it does going down.

In A&E I was pushed through quite quickly which confirmed my initial thoughts, I was about to die.

FAREWELL CRUEL WORLD.

Image result for dying gif

I had bloods taken, piss samples taken, pooh samples taken, abdominal x-rays, chest x-rays and an ECG for good measure.

I spent the foreseeable on a drip of meds to dull the pain and keep me alive. Slight Exaggeration.

After being told, in layman’s terms that there is not set cure, only prevention I am now banned from Caffeine and a multitude of other lifelong fave’s to keep the acid at bay.

Does this technique of cutting out every bit of happiness from my life work? Not always.

A cracker sent me to hell and back the other day. A fucking lowlife cracker.

Aside from that fresh hell I’m 2 lbs off a 7 Stone weight loss. I’m happy with that. Dead happy.

face

I’m happy my skin is not dripping off like water. Happy my tits don’t touch my legs when I sit down. Happy I’m not bald. Happy I’m healthier. Happy I’m not dead via internal Acid Gang warfare.

Things could be worse.

I’ve bought my first 10kg Kettlebell this week and I feel like I potentially could be in the next series of Gladiators and of course after much deliberation I have decided my gladiator name would be…. Lathargica.

Image result for lazy superhero gif

Maybe that’s because it’s Monday and I’m tired but it’d a fo’sho front runner so thus far.

Laters. x

Happiest Fatty in Homerton… STILL (Tough Crowd)

I had my 2nd group session of post fatty chat at the hospital yesterday.

You remember the first session where I seemed to be the only one not crying into my protein shake about how I was now unable to chow down on a family sized chocolate bar, it was embarrassing man.

Image result for family sized chocolate

This one was slightly better, less tears.

It was amazing to see these people 3 months down the line. They all looked, well, smaller. I now understand people’s reactions when they see me for the first time since the operation as i have always assumed It’s just polite to tell someone they look like they’ve lost weight after they’ve had an operation to cut their belly off. And as I don’t see the results in myself it was reassuring to see them in others.

We went around the group and each spoke briefly about our new eating habits.

Image result for food addicts group

So Sandra, how’re you getting on’… Sandra looks up from her Turkey slices wrapped in cling film now sweating in her clammy grip.

Well, the thing is I’m still really struggling to eat full meals. I still get very upset at dinner time when him indoors and the kids sit down to a roast and I’m left there watching and well, it just really gets to me’

Everyone nodded in agreement. How dare those bastards sit and eat their tea in front of us well we sit here like a shaking shitting Donkey from an NSPCC advert?

I watched from the back left hand corner of the room trying not to laugh and shout at them all. ‘BUT YOU’RE NOT STARVING ARE YOU, SANDRA. YOU CAN EAT. YOU COULD EAT WITH THEM YOU SILLY COW BUT YOU JUST LOVE MOANING DON’T YOU. YOU FUCKIN GREMLIN’

Look, I fuckin get it man. It’s hard at times. Can be frustrating. But come on, get a grip. If I can sit and eat a roast with my friends and family why can’t they?

Yes, my roast is minuscule in comparison to the others but who cares, it tastes ace and is great protein if you make a few adjustments. A little bit of chicken, a sprout and maybe a tater if I’m feeling fruity. I can enjoy that just as much as you can scran your roast like a bossman. What’s the beef?. mmmmmmm BEEF.

Image result for bloody beef gif

It just felt to me like I was hearing a lot of excuses. Whinging for no real reason. Only me and 2 others had even started going to the gym yet. The other 7 still didn’t feel ready, was too tired.

Image result for roll your eyes gif

I’m over these people man. These are the one’s that will be blending up Mars Bars and chugging them down convincing themselves it’s a treat day every other day and end up having another surgery 4 years down the line. What a fuckin shame.

MOVING ON

I went on to have my own personal one on one with my dietitian. I’ve lost 56% of my excess body weight so far. Sounds good yeah?

But it did get me thinking. If I’ve lost 56% of my EXCESS body weight and still have another 44%, what the fuck do they class my target weight as?

Image result for emaciated

I’m 5’9 and 33 years old and looking forward to be a happy healthy 11 / 12 stone. By their math it looks like I’ll have to be about 2 stone before I’m no longer classed as overweight. Liberty bro. Pure. Liberty.

So, what to do about this. The plan of action is keep my own personal target in mind. When i reach that target, reevaluate the situation. If I look like road kill and my skin is blowing in the wind behind me, i’ll know it;s time to stop.

Image result for loose skin blowing in the wind gif

Gluten Is The Putin Of The Food World

The course of true love doth never run smoothly.

You know what else doesn’t run smoothly? Cutting your belly off and expecting zero repercussions.

I was informed several times that Post Op it was very common to gain intolerance to certain foods / ingredients that had previously never been an issue.

Did I listen, NO. Why would I?

After all. I AM BEOWOLF.

Image result for beowulf

That, or just really great at recovering from mega surgery. Like, things have been going swell so far bar the hair falling out sitchu. Lezzbeonest even that is having zero effect on my daily morale at present.

But then this mother fucker pipes up. GLUTEN.

I’ve always been of the mind-set that Gluten Intolerance is just a state of mind. A ‘Niche’, ‘Fad’ and a money making scheme to overcharge the public for really shit bread.

Image result for gluten free meme

Alas for the first time in my entire life I fear that I may actually be wrong.

I know, I KNOW. I couldn’t believe it either but hey I’m big enough to admit it. It happens to the best of us. I’ve gone 33 years without being wrong once. My time was well overdue.

GLUTAN IS THINE ENEMY.

Image result for blood of thine enemies

But this is all very confusing man, so out of the blue. Has this happened to anyone else post op? nearly 3 months post op?

I was absolutely fine up until 10 days ago. I ate a thumb sized piece of this warm, delicious Turkish bread. It was taunting me. I needed to swallow it.

1 hour later the pain that tore through me was unreal. Through my stomach up into my shoulders and back. My muscles were tight and I couldn’t take in deep breaths properly until the pain subsided exactly 8 minutes later.

A few days later I ate one singular piece of Gnocchi. 1 teeny tiny bite of pleasure. AGONY ENSUED.

This time I recognised the paid immediately and counted down the 8 minutes as I paced the hall way looking like The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

Image result for hunchback of notre dame

Everything hurts after these ‘attacks’. It leaves my ribs tender and my body very achy. GRIM.

A tidal wave of agony is how I described this to the dietitian and I was NOT being dramatic.

Image result for dramatic

They didn’t seem too overly concerned with my situation. I should have taken a bite of that butty she was keeping for her dinner (lunch) and locked her in the room with me for an hour until the symptoms kicked in and THEN she would admit me to ICU no doubt. Probably. Maybe.

On Monday I decided to make Leigh a treat for his dinner (tea). Not having a mega appetite myself I forget that he’s probably being slowly malnourished as close to all carbs have been removed from his diet and he now lives off lettuce wraps and omelettes.

I knew it was bad when he woke me up the other night ordering Steak in his sleep. I knew it was time to feed the beast.

I made him one of his favourites. Roasted Chicken & Stuffin’ Butties. He was delighted.

Image result for chicken stuffing sandwich

The Stuffin tempted me. I had a mouthful. Once again, I was to pay the price. This time Leigh was there to witness my agony. He wasn’t empathetic, this is Leigh were talking about.

He told me to have a pooh. I AM FOREVER CONSTIPATED. Of course I have considered having a pooh. It’s all I fuckin think about. SHIT. LITERAL SHIT.

Image result for shit

So why has this appeared out of the blue? I’ve tried Gnocchi since my op and was fine, no reaction. Why now?

I tried a small piece of bread dipped in olive oil and balsamic previously, no reaction. Why now?

Last night I ate a few Skips, my favourite all time Crisp and the pain taunted me but didn’t go the full kit and caboodle so I can only assume whatever demon is out to get me was only a trace this time.

Has this happened to you? What do I do? Do I have to admit defeat? Admit this is a problem, a real problem? Admit that I AM GLUTEN INTOLERANT.

Fuck my life bro, what next I ask you? You’ll be telling me next that Vegans are real people too.

On that subject. Why don’t Vegetarians eat animals that have died of natural causes? Like, old age? Surly they’d want that?

PS. 77lbs down. YAS