Having spent a week in Spain, you'd think I'd have a quiet week last week?
Or not. Mon I went to work as usual, Tuesday I worked a half day from home over the course of the day because I had a check up with my surgeon. I have some "issues" still which I don't really want to broadcast but they have been contributing to my general unhappiness. Things may, or may not improve. He did make me feel a bit better by telling me I wasn't having a DRE (oh goody) but he did give me a bulky brown envelope.......containing some consent forms and the dreaded Picolax (bleugh). Yep it's disappearing camera time again! On the 4th of September after 24 hours of a very limited light diet and another of clear fluids only I get to be sedated again. This will be the first time I've actually had a full colonoscopy. Until now, I've only had the lower part of my colon, or where it used to be, examined. This time he's going to check the rest of it too for any precancerous cells, polyps etc and whip anything out if it's there.
Wednesday, back at work again and then a physio appointment on Thursday morning, followed by a trip to Lincoln for a tattoo. I always wanted to have some sort of commemorative tattoo to mark getting through the battery of tests and treatments, poison and surgery. Originally I was going to have the Beating Bowel Cancer logo somewhere where I could see it as a reminder, but really - how could I forget. In the end I decided to have something decorative over the most visible part of the 10" scar which runs from above my navel down well below my bikini line! I know butterflies and the whole rebirth theme is a little trite but they are pretty. I'm really pleased with it, the scar just disappears now, with just the small one from the ileostomy reversal still quite red. I may get some extension done in a few months time when that scar has gone white, but for now I don't look at at it and think "Oh look that's where Mr A ripped me apart and had a good rummage for a few hours". I think "Oooo pretty!". I didn't notice anyone staring at my scars on the beach in Spain when I was in my bikini (something I'd never do in England) but now I can bear my midriff with a little more pride. Lord only knows what Mr A is going to say when he sees it - I fear he'll tell me off because his stitching WAS amazing and for a scar it was bloody minimal, but I hope he'll understand.
It's just starting to peel a little now, but I'm putting Bepanthen cream on it twice a day and, like the others I have, you can't tell it's new. I went to a place recommended by two friends who have been there a few times already so I knew it was clean and safe and they know what they're doing. I saw the tattooist and the senior blokey (who is booked up until Christmas and a grandfather so has many years experience and a lot of happy returning customers).
I watched my big sister get married on Friday, to a man in a skirt. No, only joking, it was a kilt - he is Scottish after all! She looked beautiful, as did everyone else in the wedding party especially the bridesmaids (my nieces and her best friend's daughter) and it was a lovely day. They are a lovely couple and they are obviously very happy together, no one could escape noticing. The speeches were quite moving too, especially the groom's words about them being a family and how important it was that the children were also happy. When the two girls also made a little speech I was really struggling to hold back some tears. I have to say, I really don't usually like weddings. Possibly because after my own marriage which ended over a decade ago I just can't imagine being in that situation. Watching my previously shy, slightly inhibited sister throwing some shapes on the dancefloor with her new husband as though no-one was watching was an eye opener. It just proved to me how right they are for each other. It was also the loneliest moment I've had for a long time in a room full of people. I was sat alone, although I was related to people in the room, none of us are close because my mother moved me away from them before I started school and it's just not the same. I'm pleased to say I managed to stay until 10pm (and the buffet for yet more yummy food) before the drive back to feed Alfie and Skittles. I had another bag to pack for a weekend in London on Saturday.
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