Monday’s procedure of stretching my wee shoot to help alleviate symptoms of Overactive Bladder (OAB) went well. The technical name for this procedure is ‘Urethral Dilatation’. No slicing, dicing, or removal of anything involved. Just go up my pee shoot, stretch it like an elastic band and then let it ping back into shape. Bish…
I’m having surgery today. Yet, I’m not worried about the procedure itself; I’m worried about the anaesthetic.
Here, I explain why …
I rather stupidly thought I’d gotten away with it. ‘It’ being our trip away to see friends. Tut tut. Silly me.
We’re just back from a trip away to see one of my oldest and bestest mates and her family. Sounds fun and pretty normal right? Wrong.
I mean, yes it’s definitely fun – it was the most I’ve laughed in ages. But no, this is not normal for us.
Chronic illness can be a massive threat to our identity. So, what happens when everything that makes you ‘you’ goes missing?
… You channel your inner lizard.
Chronic illness and happiness. Here I discuss how Severe ME and POTS has influenced the joy in my life now my health has improved.
M.E ‘warriors’. The term grates on me on a visceral level, and makes me wanna scream until I puke. But, why is that?
Plastic plates. Who would have thought they could be a useful piece of equipment for anything other than camping and small children? Certainly not me. Well, not me before M.E.
… Nowadays however, I think they’re bloomin’ fantastic!
If you went walking up on the Yorkshire moors today, you might have stumbled across a body. Twice. A motionless, random body … just laying there like a corpse.
Unless you blatantly ‘look’ disabled, then Disabled Parking Permits are both a blessing and a curse.
The blessings are obvious. So here, I discuss the curses.