Happy Holidays 2017

Christmas for me has always been a pot luck. Some Christmases I'm single, some coupled up, some were big family affairs, and others were just me and a partner having a quiet one.

Two Christmases ago I had to leave midway through celebrations at my parents house, because I was in so much pain from my endometriosis that I had to go and lay down. Last Christmas, I was happily snuggled away with Mr Tech, feeling like a million dollars.

This autumn/winter my right knee has decided to wave the white flag. It felt like my kneecap was trying to twist right off, and the skin was painful to touch. I managed to drag myself to a physio. (I often lack the mental energy to plan these things). Luckily, she was excellent. We talked through my hip dysplasia and my current issues. Somehow she convinced me to do some acupuncture on my knees right then and there, with no cuddly toy for me to hold!

Though not a cure, it definitely made a difference straight away. She also gave me some exercises to do at home. I will certainly attempt to remember to do them every day....

Tomorrow I will be at my parents house, being over-fed and generally treated like a tame house-cat. It's going to be awesome.

Whatever you're doing, and whatever you are going through, I want you to remember that you are not alone. Some Holidays will suck, and some will be great. Never be afraid to put yourself first, and do what you need to do.

Wishing you all the best

Lisa x

Hospital is the loneliest place

Between Christmas and New Year I spent 3 nights in hospital. I had gone in to see an out of hours doctor, and ended up being admitted (against my will). I had nothing with me, no pyjamas, no book, no contact lens solution. I cried.

Mum and dad were with me, and arranged for my sister to go to my flat and pick up a few things. It was weird to think of her going there without me.

I was moved into a private room, which was nice in the way of a really sterile hotel room, but I was pretty scared. I had insurance through my work, and was grateful to have it, and be out of the chaos of the shared wards. But once everyone left, and I'd finished my drip, and the nurse had given me a painful stomach injection, it was eerie.

It was surprisingly quiet, and I had a lot of thoughts and no one to talk them through with. I cried every night, sometimes for hours. Partly because of the pain, part loneliness, part fear of the future. There was still no diagnosis forthcoming.

When I was discharged, it was with mixed feelings. I wasn't any better, there was just nothing more they could do for me. My pain had levelled off, and I had been scanned, x-rayed, MRI'd and generally prodded about.

Back to the specialists I must go.