The final countdown!

Anyone who went to school in the early 90’s will remember that song – it was usually playing when your high school sports team was taking to the floor!

So I have a little experiment for all of you to try – it can definitely be done at home. First of all I want you to go to your liquor cabinet and mix yourself several of your favorite cocktails and drink those down. Enough so that you’re a little bit happy and unsteady on your feet but not so many that you fall down or puke or anything.

Next go into the kitchen and get a Ziploc bag and a bottle of water. Now open the Ziploc bag and hold it around pelvis level and then in a seated position try to pour the water into the bag without getting it all over yourself and without dropping the bag. You have just tried to empty your ostomy pouch when you’re partying.

I attended the St. Paul Rodeo Beer Fest on the Saturday of the long weekend. Got a little tipsy and posed in a group photo with a bunch of Philipinos…don’t know who they are and I am sure I will only ever see that photo through the magic of social media if ever. Also got the idea for the experiment and a blog post.

But I’m not done there! I have received the go ahead from both my surgeon and my doctor to get the reconnect surgery. I had an appointment with my surgeon and asked him straight up – “so do you install some PVC pipe in there with a little plumbers tape and glue?”

I don’t think my surgeon thinks I’m as funny as I think I am. For those of you who want to know – they staple you together.

The official date of the surgery – September 27. I’m officially done work September 23. I’m officially no longer dreading that weekend because I don’t have to do the prep for it. I don’t have to drink the nasty stuff that makes you empty your insides like an atomic bomb has gone off in your tummy. I don’t have to have only clear fluids for 2 days and survive on jell-o. Just no eating or drinking after midnight the night before.

Last time I had 47 staples but I was 120 pounds soaking wet at that time 3 years ago…I’m more than that now. So will I need more staples to close me up? Probably. The surgery cannot be done laproscopically (I never know how to spell that word) because they need room to root around in there.

I haven’t had to go number 2 in the traditional sense in 3 years. I am telling you that first time will not be comfortable let alone trying to do that with a cut open stomach that is healing. I got some great advice from my sister in law though – a cup of coffee and a good book!

Stay tuned – my pre operation appointment is September 20 – last time I had some doctor I couldn’t understand (see post from several years ago). It will be good to compare this visit with last time!

Chuck goes to New Orleans

Chuck may as well be a super hero. I like to imagine that the pouch is more of a cape and that he goes around doing things that no one expected he would be able to do.

Go to the West Edmonton Mall Water Park? YES! While there did he face down big waves and plummet down scary waterslides that give whole new meaning to the word wedgie? YES! (Let's just say I'm very thankful for Chuck as one particular slide was enough to make you almost eat your shorts and I'm sure for those people who have to use that part of their anatomy any trip to the bathroom was probably painful.)

So what is the latest that Chuck did? Well Chuck and I went to New Orleans to help do Katrina relief.

Let me back up a little - I work for Boardwalk and right here and right now I'm going to lay down what is so awesome about working for this company. Several times a year our CEO spends a boat load of money and takes around 40 people to go do volunteer work. They used to go to Tijuana and work with YWAM (Youth With a Mission) but with the unrest in Mexico right now the new location this time was New Orleans.

So off we went to high humidity, crazy high heat, no local bathrooms and a room mate I've never met before for the whole weekend. There were long flights, foods we don't usually eat and hard physical labour which was tough on my precious computer typing fingers that don't usually see any kind of real work.

I think it is safe to say that the world has mostly forgotten about New Orleans. Hurricane Katrina seems like a lifetime ago and how could a city in the USA possibly need help 6 years later? When you drive down the street everything seems okay at first glance but then you notice most of the houses look like this one - broken windows, chains on doors and no one living there.

The build team I was on was doing mudding and taping in a house that belonged to a man named Milton. Milton is in his 80's and had to go to work to start paying rent so he could live in New Orleans - even though he's owned a house for almost 50 years. Right now that house is in the process of finally being fixed up - 6 years after the fact. This is a picture of Milton sitting with us on Saturday - he came for a visit to say thank you to the volunteers for working on his house. I'm surprised the picture turned out - it's hard to take a picture when your eyes are full of tears.

He used his cane to point to where the water rose on the house - it went right up past those stairs you see on the right and stayed that way for 2 weeks.

Imagine a community where your whole family lives close by. Both sets of grandparents are near and it's not unusual for your kids to be able to walk to several homes belonging to aunts and uncles. The tight-knit community became a huge liability during the flood - everyone lost everything and no one had anyone to turn to and live with during the rebuild.

On top of that the housing that was liveable now is renting at a premium price because of the lack of supply.

In comes the St. Bernard Project - the group that we helped out with. They do mold remediation and rebuild the homes from the bare studs. To say that it touches a persons heart would be an understatement. We heard from one woman (a deputy sheriff) that they were finding bodies in homes even 2 years ago - when your whole family is wiped out no one thinks to go looking for you.

Chuck did amazing even though the humidity was so crazy that I probably could have wrung water out of my clothes every night. I did change him on the Sunday but that was more for my own comfort and not because he really needed it.

He did great on all the flights - even flying through the night on the Friday. And I can safely say that without having gone through the surgery there was no way I would have been able to participate in this amazing weekend. There was no washroom facilities at the home - we had to make van trips to the local McDonalds. Luckily I had the best van driver of the group and that meant washroom breaks whenever our team needed.

I can say this - even if the only thing that had come from the past weekend was meeting my Edmonton team members and spending time with my co-workers from across the country I still would have called it a huge success. Helping out a family or two in need was icing on the cake really - or maybe it was the other way around.

Hmm...maybe I should get someone to draw Chuck in a comic book - he could be OSTOMY MAN!!! Even if I am never able to get the surgery reversal and even if I'm never independently wealthy and even if I never live anywhere other than my own little house, I am so blessed. The city of New Orleans is in my prayers and if you ever think that maybe you'd like to do the travel/volunteer option I totally recommend a trip to New Orleans and volunteering for the St. Bernard Project.

Validation is sweet

I am late updating my blog. I had thought that after my scope I would be blogging right away about going in for my new surgery, how much time I'd be off work recovering and wondering if they would be double sets of train track scars on my tummy or just one set...

Alas surgery is not in the cards for me right now. Apparently I'm still very ill. That little tiny piece of colon that is just floating around in there like one of those inflatable highway signs is very inflamed.

And here I am, after being open and honest about symptoms and pooping and bum scopes...and I hate to even write about what is happening now. I am on some new medicine to go along with my biweekly shot to the gut...I now have to use...suppositories.

I don't know why after everything I've been through and everyone who has seen me from the inside out and all that I've shared with everyone out there in Internet-land why suppositories is something that is really bugging me but there you have it. And these aren't little either. At least I don't think they are. I've never had to take suppositories for anything before - but these seem like one small step down from a tank shell being shoved into uncomfortable places before bed each night. By the way - small note of warning to anyone who may in the future need to use them - make sure your fingernails are not long or sharp or jagged in any way. Ugh.

Anyway, on to the stuff that doesn't make me want to crawl in a dark hole and never come out.

I was confused as to how my little bit of insides could still be so sick. I take my medicine, I have no pain and no fevers (fevers being one of the keys to any kind of internal infection or illness that you may not be otherwise aware of) - nothing. I feel great. In fact I feel amazing and my quality of life has been better than I had even hoped for.

I mentioned to my surgeon at my follow-up that I was confused as to how I could supposedly still be so sick but feel so good. He just shrugged and said that if I was hooked up I wouldn't be feeling good but right now as this little piece of insides is decorative only I wasn't being affected. I take his word for it but still something tells me that I should at least know that I was ill.

I had an appointment with my gastro this morning and I HAVE HIM STUMPED! Thank you!!! I feel great, my blood work is normal, he doesn't understand how my insides are still so sick either. I'm sure most people don't look at having your specialist tell you he's not sure what is going on as a good thing, but it made me feel better to know that I wasn't weird for feeling like something isn't quite right.

I have another scope scheduled for June - 3 months after being on the new medication and continuing on with my injections.

On a side note - just got back from sunny southern California. It was beautiful weather, great fun and Chuck did really excellent. I will put in one word of complaint. LAX SUCKS. And on top of that the screeners at LAX that I had to deal with were not the sharpest tacks.

I had to go through one of the new full body scanners. No big deal, they're coming on line everywhere and I knew right away I'd get asked about my ostomy. The female doing the scanning asked me what that was and I said "I have an ostomy". Then right in front of the whole world at security she asked me to lift up my shirt.

My answer was "No...I will be happy to show you anything you want in private but I will not lift up my shirt here."

You would have thought that I had opened up my pouch right there and smacked her full in the face with a big ol' handful of poop. She was stunned. Then she asked me if I wanted a private screening, I said yes.

Then it took 5 minutes and another 6 security people before a manager finally came over and said with as much sense as I heard through the whole ordeal "So if she wants a screening in private take her to the private room and screen her."

With the way they were running around I thought the private room was in the basement of the airport or something but no, it was less than 10 feet away. So dimbulb 1 and her partner take me to the private room. I lift up my shirt and they both proceed to ask me what it was they were looking at. Drawing on a huge amount of patience I explained that I had surgery and now my insides had a different exit hole...even after all that still complete blanks.

At this point I'm starting to get aggravated but it's airport security and I'm no dumb bunny so I just wait patiently while they stare at each other and then again at me. Finally one of them says "well we'll just swab her hands for drugs".

They do the swab and one girl runs out of the room with the little paper thingy while the other guards the door in case I decide to make a break for it in my socks...and finally the first one comes back and says I'm free to go.

I am so happy that the Ostomy Association of Alberta (at least Edmonton) are working hard to educate security officials about ostomies and what to expect. I have no problems with them asking to see, or checking me for illegal items - I know people think of all kinds of crazy ways to smuggle illegal items over the border. My problem is when they look at me like I'm some kind of alien. These people work in a very busy airport and ostomies are not some weird 1 in a million thing.

My sister in law says that them asking me to show my tummy in the middle of security is the equivalent of asking one of them to take out one of their tampons in front of everyone. The mental image cracks me up and I'm sure if I had said anything like this out loud I'd still be in security at LAX.

Drumroll please....

As of April 29, 2011 I will have had Chuck for 2 years. He is a good guy, he can get a little annoying but who doesn't when you spend 24-7 with them. Still I feel like maybe it's time for something new.

So...I spoke with my specialist and my surgeon and we're working on setting the date to put my insides back together!

I had a visit with my surgeon on Monday of this past week to talk about the surgery. He assured me that as long as the little tiny piece of colon area that they left inside is healthy they'll be able to sew it up and I should be able to live ostomy free for a while. I say for a while because with Crohn's disease it's never a guarantee that you won't suddenly flare up and become incredibly ill so you take every healthy day with a lot of gratitude.

Then he said, so we'll have you come in for a scope. To be very precise a "flexible sigmoidoscopy". I looked at him and thought "Can't you just ask me to bend over and shine a flashlight up there? There can't be that much to look at!"

My scope was set for this past Thursday afternoon. Usually preparation for the scope is the worst thing ever. You don't really eat for a couple of days, you drink stuff that I would compare to motor oil if I knew what motor oil tastes like and then you strap yourself to your toilet for 2 days. You show up at the hospital weak, tired, hungry and cold - not to mention sometimes nervous and a bit cranky.

But as my insides are not actually hooked up to anything I had no prep to do. WOO!

Get to the hospital and the nurses weren't the most friendly I've ever dealt with there. They asked me a load of questions that were ridiculous if any of them had even bothered to glance at my intake papers.

"Have you done your preparation?" "Have you had this procedure before?" "Have you had any surgeries?" As my friend pointed out it's like they read off a laminated template and cannot deviate. I told the nurse I might as well have a parking stall there. I mean really, my back end could double as a teaching hospital at this point.

Then my surgeon's nurse comes and wheels me into the room. He was waiting for me. We chatted, I'm sure I was witty. Everyone is witty when they have a few cc's of Pentathol running through the veins.

"Joseline, your gastro Dr. Todoruk is here in the hospital today and I'd like to call him in for the scope so we're both looking at the same time."

To which I said

"You know what - you invite everyone you want. This could be a party!"

"Okay Joseline we're about to get started..."

"Hey, if I shine a light in a tube it just lights up the tube, but if I shine a light in a funnel the light shoots out everywhere. So...if you put that light in me and I'm not really hooked up to anything am I going to glow like one of those glow worm toys?"

"Okay Joseline, time to go to sleep..."

I did not actually go to sleep, I was mostly awake however definitely in a different dimension for the procedure. You lay on your left hand side and the TV they're all looking at is also right in front of you.

Now in my drugged stupor I was watching as something the size of a large lobster claw was pushed around and took "biopsies" of my remaining colon piece. It is very disturbing to watch something that large move around on your insides while at the same time feel the corresponding uncomfortableness.

When I mentioned it in recovery my nurse there, who was for the record about a million times nicer and cheerier than any of the nurses pre-appointment, laughed and said the TV is super magnified and the pinchers I saw are actually about the size of the tip of a pen.

I'll take her word for it only because I wasn't hemorrhaging when I finally came out of it all the way.

So now it's the hurry up and wait game. If the biopsies show that my colon that is left is diseased then it is no surgery for me. If it shows that it's healthy, then sometime in March when I get back from vacation they'll wheel me in. (A little later than the THIS TUESDAY they offered me...)

The only downside is that this surgery will not be laproscopic. Apparently when you're doing the equivalent of attaching two plumbing pipes with reducers and glue you need more room to work. So I can once again look forward to 40 or 50 staples down the middle. They will use my existing scar if at all possible which should mean that I have a double set of railroad tracks when they're done and I probably will have an even tinier bellybutton than what I came out with the first time.

Keep your fingers crossed for me, will blog more after my next surgeons appointment!

Back to the Beginning

I suppose I started this blog when I was at the height of my illness…I couldn’t see myself getting much sicker and it was time for surgery. So by then I was tiny, frail, throwing up, spending much of my time in the bathroom and living on enough pills to probably medicate a small country.

It would be a good thing to go back, a lot of my family and friends knew I was “sick” in a vague sense of the word but really had no idea how it came about, symptoms, what happens at the doctor visits and all that. So let’s dedicate today’s update (and I’m sorry I haven’t been updating as often as I should be) to the past.

I grew up in Southern Alberta and at the age of 19 moved 12 hours away to the Peace Country in Alberta to work as a journalist in a small newspaper. When I say Falher or Donnelly people don’t usually know where that is so let’s just say Northern Alberta. On my own for the first time, in a fabulously hideous furnished apartment in a building that used to be a convent. In fact there were still several nuns living there, but I’m getting off track.

About a year into the job I was stressed, unhappy with work, my publisher was awful to me and I was too young and green to know how to handle it properly. If I had the same treatment today I would definitely quit, hire a lawyer and sue his sorry butt.

It all started with a bad case of diarrhea. As a young adult living on your own of course you eat and drink copious amounts of things you probably shouldn’t. Add to all of that the fact that I’ve loved food from a very young age and have the chubby photos to prove it and I had no cause for concern at first. “Was it the night of partying and then the pizza from who knows when or could it have been the greasy burger and fries and potato chips followed by more partying?” I think this is a conversation most “party age” young adults have with themselves while they’re hanging out in the bathroom at some point or another.

But then the diarrhea wouldn’t go away. I would go to the bathroom on average of 12 or 15 times a day. And food started coming out whole. DON’T PRETEND! I know you all take a gander before a flush. And believe me – you notice when whole bits of food are floating around in there. I’m not talking when you can be sure you’ve had corn and you see it…I’m talking I had a salad and so whole pieces of lettuce are floating around. Okay enough of that, I’m making myself turn a little green.

Finally after about a month of this and starting to lose weight I bit the bullet and made an appointment to see a doctor. I sit down across from him in his office and my opening line is “I go to the bathroom a lot.” Opening the conversation with my doctor was absolutely the hardest thing – no one wants to talk about bums, bathroom habits and poop. Not even with professionals. The doctor booked me a test at the hospital with another local doctor and we went on from there. I continued pooping and then on test day I was wheeled in.

I would like to go on record here and say NEVER get a colonoscopy without sedation. I know they say it’s a routine operation and it’s no big deal and you don’t need it. Bull Pickles! The only people who say this are the sadistic doctors shoving miles of tubing into places that you didn’t know went that deep and the nurses who run the air machine. Because even though the tube is in there, they have to pump in a bunch of air at the same time to “inflate” things to make the view on the camera better. The air machine sounds like a jack hammer and when you’re already sick it’s a nightmare situation. The doctor performing the test was just a general doctor. Not a specialist (another thing I should have fought against but you live and learn) and he asked me in rapid fire a series of questions including things like “do you have bowel movements more than 5 times a day?” “do you see whole chunks of food?” “do you see mucus and/or blood?” and so on. I answered yes to every single question. At the end of the test (it felt like 40 minutes but it was probably only 10 or 15) the doctor told me “you are a mess” and left the room. Leaving the nurse to mop up the tears and get me back into the room to recover.

Oh and how joyous is this? My boyfriend at the time was in the room waiting for me, cause you’re not allowed to drive after the procedure, and at that point with him standing over my hospital bed the nurse announces “you’ve got a lot of air that we’ve pumped in there, it’s very important that you let it out naturally so don’t be afraid to just let it rip.” Kill me…I wish the nasty hospital sheets could have smothered me.

About a week later the family doctor I had initially seen called me to his office and told me it looked like I had a case of ulcerative colitis and immediately prescribed me horse sedatives. Okay I’m exaggerating – I was taking Sulphasalazine – giant yellow pills which is from the family of Sulpha drugs – roughly translated into real English meaning drinking so much water you could drown and turning purple in direct sunlight. Seriously.

I took these pills for my whole prescription and was feeling better. Here comes giant mistake # 2 (right after not demanding to see a specialist) after I was done my prescription I didn’t go see the doctor again to get a refill and did not continue on with proper health care.

Well, I think I’ve exhausted all of you enough for today. Stay tuned for the next update – when I finally got a clue!

CHUCK of the NORTH!

"Watch your head on the rifle."

Those aren't words you expect to hear on vacation but I'll get to that a bit later.

This year for our vacation we decided to forego the traditional Hawaii/USA somewhere warm and fabulous and spend our 7th anniversary with good friends of ours in Wha'Ti, NWT.

Wha'Ti is a 40 minute flight Northwest of Yellowknife and it was an adventure just to get there.

On this map Wha'Ti is the yellow dot location.

First we packed up our stuff and a full case of food, George Foreman Grill, and coffee as requested - by the way cashiers look at you weird when they ring through nothing but giant tins of Tim Horton's coffee, dehydrated onions and vanilla. Then we hopped our WestJet flight to Yellowknife and landed at what was probably one of the smallest airports we've ever been in. There's certainly no question about where your luggage will be because there is only one luggage carousel.

Then we had a bite to eat at the Bush Pilot Cafeteria and took a $5 taxi ride to the Air Tindi terminal. There we met Marvin. Paul and I headed into the hanger and Marvin was working the counter. I gave him my name and said we had reservations...he then ran through my credit card and we plopped our luggage on a scale and that was it. No ID, no security checks, no scanning our bags - and also no realizing that Paul and I were traveling together but we got that sorted out. Turns out Marvin is more than front counter man, he also helps direct the planes in and hauls the luggage around in little carts.

Our Air Tindi plane was the smallest plane Paul has ever been on and 2nd smallest for me - 2nd only because I've flown in a tiny 2-seater plane before. It also looked like it was from before the war and there is no barrier between you and the pilots and the instruments. They hand you ear plugs as you get on and there is certainly no way the seat cushions are floatation devices as it's pretty much a thin piece of material over metal - which by the way fold down when they have less passengers so they can haul more cargo.

And you should have seen the cargo! Honestly I wouldn't have been surprised if a live chicken and a goat were on board. There were loads and loads of bins stuffed with everything from kids soccer balls, clothing bags and even several birthday cakes. And probably the weirdest thing - the "must have" item when flying into Wha'Ti is KENTUCKY FRIED CHICKEN! Several of the locals were flying with us and they all had giant bags of KFC which stank up the Air Tindi terminal and the flight for the whole 40 minutes. Paul says the smell has actually turned him off KFC for the next year probably.

Okay so back to the plane. We were flying along and I was in the front row - prime position to see all the instruments and I noticed a sign above the pilots head. The sign said the plane was only approved for regular flying and that no aerobatics, loops, roll overs or other types of flying were approved. Thank goodness for that. There is also no such thing as a washroom, no stewards/stewardess and no water or anything like that. In fact the pilot did a quick safety routine, probably the fastest I've ever heard. Pointed out the exit doors and said "if it gets too cold or too hot just tap me on the shoulder."

We landed in Wha'Ti and wouldn't you know it - turns out that is in fact the smallest airport we've ever been in. It's a community of about 500 people and the airport is a trailer. When they unload your luggage it comes out the gates and sits in the parking lot waiting for people to grab it - and be warned you better be on the ball and getting your luggage because if someone decides they like your suitcase better than you do it might disappear. When you go to leave your luggage is weighed on an old meat scale.

The area of Wha'Ti used to be known as Lac La Martre or Martin Lake. The scenery and landscape are stunning. On our first full day there we went to have a hot dog roast at the scenic waterfalls just a 1/2 hour out of town but you can't go out in the bush without a firearm because you really are "in the wild". Just a day or so previous to our visit there had been some wolves at the falls.

We rode in the RCMP truck and at one point had to pass Levi - the 1 year old - through the prisoner window to the front seat as we were a bit cramped in the back. That's where the whole "don't hit your head on the rifle!" came from.

We had an amazing visit with our friends, went on a great adventure and wouldn't you know it - the weather in Wha'Ti was way nicer than it was here in Edmonton! I actually got a bit of a tan.

After a few days we headed home, spent a delightful 3 hour delay in the Yellowknife airport (trust me when I say you don't want to be delayed in Yellowknife EVER!) and made it home safe and sound. It was a great trip and one I'm sure we'll be talking about for the next year. Chuck did amazingly well but we're lucky it wasn't a winter trip because I don't think I could have gotten a special parka for him.

I could go on and on about the old couple who got into a screaming match in the Air Tindi hangar because she was drunk and couldn't fly or about the bushman or how Paul preferred to pee on trees outside because we had to conserve water during our visit and he can't use the toilet without flushing...but you'd get bored with all of that!

I feel like a NINJA!

I was tossing around the idea of getting a second tattoo - I already have a tramp stamp (a tattoo on my lower back). It's my name in Korean and I love it. I had always wanted a tattoo but struggled with where to put it and what to put there and didn't actually make a decision until I was 25 years old.

The other day Paul and I were chatting about a mutual acquaintance who had to go in for a colonoscopy - routine check up kind of thing.

Now in my 11 plus years of illness I have had a LOT of colonoscopies, sigmoidoscopies, throat scopes, barium swallows you name it. And I'm sure I'm not completely out of the woods yet - but one thing I do know. Unless I decide to get plumbing reattached I will never ever have to get a colonoscopy again!

I mean, a doctor would be able to see everything he needed with a bright flashlight. And then it hit me, if I were to get another tattoo I would get it on my butt and it would look like this:

So - onto my posting about my newest piece of ostomy equipment.

Now that I'm working out five days a week and the weather is getting warmer and I like to swim - I was searching the Internet for some kind of ostomy belt that would not stretch and would allow me to do all the things I want to be able to do but provide more security than the thin fabric belts you can buy at medical supply stores.

TA DA! Announcing the STEALTH BELT.

The stealth belt was developed by a guy in the states who had surgery much like myself and then found that he couldn't participate in his favorite water sports due to the limitation of the thin cloth belt we were just talking about.

So now this guy hand makes these awesome belts out of swimsuit material and you can order them from him on E-Bay. My $85 CAD purchase has arrived and although I haven't swam with it I can say that I'm feeling much more secure when playing baseball or going to the gym. the belt doesn't stretch, it's very comfortable and it covers my ostomy so well that if my shirt pulls up a little bit while I'm doing these physical activities all people see is a band of black fabric. Freakin' genius.

I still haven't figured out how to roll up my pouch and have it secured in a little zippered pocket - I think it's because I haven't gone swimming yet and so I haven't been wearing my short swimming pouches which would probably fit better.

And stealth belt just makes me feel all secret agent! Like a ninja only better cause I don't need bathroom breaks!

It's also a god send in terms of privacy. If my swimsuit or shirt pulls up it isn't immediately noticeable that I am wearing some kind of medical device.

On a side note we just had air conditioning installed in the house. During the cool winter months I was getting five or six days of wear out of my equipment easily. We had a sudden heat wave here a couple of weeks ago with temperatures reaching the 30's for one day and blam - none of my appliances are really interested in sticking to my sweaty tummy at night. So we sucked it up and had central air conditioning installed. I'm hoping it helps me get better wear out of my equipment since I won't be as hot at night and therefore not as sweaty and also not tossing around as much. Plus it's just awesome to have air conditioning in the house but I could honestly say we probably would have put it off for another year if it weren't for these ostomy flanges and the issues they were causing in the heat.

So since my summer will continue on in a wonderfully normal fashion I have decided my next blog posts (probably this coming weekend) will be a quick traipse through when I first got sick, diagnosis and all that fun stuff. It's all fine to say look at me - I had surgery! But I know a lot of people may be wondering how I got here. And if you're not interested...well read my blog anyway darn it.