It's 14 weeks and 2 days since my ReBirthDay, and high time for an update. I've been dithering on this one; on the one hand, my short-term memory is really bad (anesthesia does that) and the import and trauma of the last few months has faded fast; on the other hand, my life is now feeling much more ordinary, so what's to tell and who would want to know?
Well, lots has happened, actually.
A few days after I came home, I shaved off all my hair (again). After several weeks of being unable to sufficiently attend to my psoriasis, and with hair falling out in clumps, it looked and felt awful and had to go. I am happy to report that the psoriasis is gone now, and my hair is growing in such that I actually have to check the mirror in the morning in case it's standing up on end.
Two months after my surgery, I celebrated with a Rebirthday party, complete with cake and candles, something I haven't had in more years than I can remember. We also had Mum's recipe pavolova, trifle, chips and dip, bread, BBQ, bangers, and beer. Well, not beer, I never did like beer. I did have a bit of wine though, and I may have got a little wobbly... We also had a brazier in the back yard, which I enjoyed long after everyone had left.
On the physical side, my healing is going well. I had a couple of doozy wounds which took quite some time to heal. My mid-line incision blew apart a couple of weeks after surgery and required weeks of "secondary intention" healing (from the bottom up). Quite a miracle to witness. Also, my "Barbie bum" has been taking it's time and is still on the mend. Needless to say, it's not smooth as I envisaged. I may have to come up with some other descriptor.
The other day I came up with a new moniker for my bowel. which I quite like; I have a semi-conlon! Lucy is continuing to talk sh*t and gasbag, as she is supposed to, and Yogi Berra is right up there with the best catchers in the world, also as expected. Stoma bag fashion is improving; Kat, my lovely stoma nurse, had me try out her first samples of black bags recently. This is a vast improvement on the "skin coloured" bags previously available. Fortunately, they work well for me (there are lots of different designs) and I am waiting on my first standing order. Luckily, all of my stoma supplies are fully funded thanks to the historical campaigning of my ostomate predecessors. (An ostomate is someone with a hole (stoma) somewhere on their belly to divert either number ones (urostomy) or number twos (either a colostomy or an ileostomy, depending on if it's the end of the colon or the ileum. Mine is a colostomy.)
Unfortunately, I am at the point where I probably ought to slow down on the eating thing; around two years ago, I weighed just 41 kilograms, and now I am up to 62 before breakfast... Whoa up Neddie, I've never done that without babies before! I was quite happy to get to 58, my teen weight. However, I'm not too bothered as I haven't really got serious about getting fit yet, I am holding back the reins until I am fully healed so I don't go messing things up. I have been getting into the garden and going for walks, but I'm not doing the mowing yet and resisting splitting the last of last season's firewood.
So, it's nearly the end of the year, and, for the first time in ages, I can contemplate a holiday...without having to download a loo app. I have a holiday partly planned; from Christmas until mid-January, I will be heading down South. If you live that way and haven't heard from me and would like to catch up, please do contact me, I have started planning my diary and I would love to fit in seeing as many folks as I can.
Thanks for reading this far, and thank you from the bottom of my heart for helping me get my life back.
I'll leave you with a photo from my rebirthday. My late friend, Lynley made the dress for me nearly three years ago, complete with tulle underskirt, and told me if it didn't fit then I should put on weight. Well, Lynley, I did, and it fit perfectly. (And yes, that's a parcel ribbon around my head.)
Arohanui!
