I Cannot Let Myself Go Down That Path

Today my story is featured on ABC News Radio and News Online which both go national across Australia. This is my second time being interviewed by Giselle Watakama and she really makes it easy. She also has a magic way of pulling the secret stuff out of me. The stuff I try to cover up from the public, the people I know and often from my loved ones. She even manages to capture the quaver in my voice, because dammit I cannot hide that. Would if I could, truly.

I do not want my son or my lover to see me panting as my body tries to fill my ostomy bag. Panting as if I am birthing a hippopotamus. Because that is what it feels like. Pure agony for at least thirty minutes, often two hours  and exhaustion afterwards. And then there is the small matter of getting a bag to fit on my ostomy now. The mesh has sucked an area a bit like an inverted teacup beside my stoma. Right where the mesh is. And it is next to impossible to get a seal. So out of the myriad modern devices designed to make life easier for the modern ostomy I am left with an older version which does not seal and also the filter does not function well. Requiring me to ask friends if I stink. Because these days all I smell is poo.

Things are not all bad. As everyone knows I do not like to give in. And I am very stubborn and determined. And I like to advocate to help others who are injured and to try to stop others from becoming injured. While in hospital last week I met a really impressive Colo Rectal surgeon, Dr Peter Pockney who also teaches surgery at Newcastle University. And he is a member of my surgeon, Dr Brian Draganic’s team Newcastle Colorectal. I was impressed with his intelligent way of communicating. Dr Draganic also is very down to earth. I am hoping at some stage to talk to them about starting a mesh clinic up here at John Hunter Hospital. Or a Hernia Mesh Clinic as RPA has the Pelvic one. These two surgeons did not place my mesh. Presently I have started a support group on Facebook for Hernia Mesh injured. It is called Australian Hernia Mesh Support Group. We are gaining more members due to the radio interview on ABC today which is wonderful. People who do not usually use Facebook so I have given then my name and mailing address instead.

Some of the timeline of the article was a little bit out. So much for Giselle to sort through. Basically I had the mesh inserted in 2015, three years after my ostomy was formed. The photo above was taken after I got home from the mesh repair. Not knowing then I had a mesh infection, which is NOT considered to be a good thing in mesh circles.

So for most of early 2015 I was in and out of John Hunter with bowel obstructions. I was given emergency surgery in August 2015 for a Parastomal Hernia  and mesh was inserted. I have been much worse since, though not to the point of vomiting faeces but that is because I am so vigilant to not let the obstructions get to that point. But she is right. I do fear choking on faeces, because I did, for many many hours and even The NG  tube could not suck it all away. It was the only time in my life I wanted to run away and die somewhere where nobody could find me. Well I did once after I started looking after my demented parents in 2013 but I had just left my nasty husband and walked into the hell of Alzheimer’s. With a new stoma and a then undiagnosed Hernia.

So basically Giselle let me talk, and tried to make sense of what I said, with no medical training and my tendency to ramble she did a great job! What was even better for us Mesh campaigners and advocates was the info she came up with. We need these skills!  Basically the College of Surgeons are concerned about this Hernia mesh issue. It is so good to know that.

‘Anyway the article is here. I will leave you to read it, to absorb it, and to try to know that my life might sound awful but I do see the bigger picture. In my case I do not have Alzheimer’s. Whew. And I can still laugh at myself. My son is wonderful,  as are my friends. And I have a magical lover/partner who does not notice my bag, thinks I am brave and encourages me to not see myself as disabled. It is only when I try to walk that I feel disabled, and it is only brief. Cause I cannot let myself go down that path.

Finally I would like to thank the lovely Rosie and Marion of John Hunter’s new Acute Surgical Ward. Talk about wonderful nurses. Beyond wonderful. And then there was the delightful Rory, the resident from Belfast. And the canular technician called in who finally got a vein. Am covered in bruises. Little love bites to remind me of my stay.

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I Never Want To Feel Like This Again

Today was the fourth anniversary of my mum’s death. It is always a very hard day for me. I was so unprepared for her death. So unprepared for her new life. I needed more time. And today time is all I had. And memories. And photos. And more time. Sharing photos and those memories to Facebook. My friends doing their best from a distance to make me feel better. I have the best friends. The best network. The absolute best son in the world. And a wonderful partner.

However my partner was unable to be with me today, even for a short time, as he had a previous commitment to a weekend birthday bash. A sleepover one filled with all sorts of people, interesting and average and quite a mix of ages. And some of his family.

Usually we communicate throughout the day fairly regularly. And we say good morning and goodnight by telephone, a prolonged goodnight, over three hours last Friday night. Perhaps I should be happy with the time we do have together, such as last weekend where we had a fabulous, romantic weekend away together.

But I am cursed with wanting more. I did not have enough time with my mum, I am conscious of time and how things can change in an instant. I want more. I want to meet all his kids, his grandkids, his friends. Have heard so much of them but they seem to be denied to me, for now anyway.

Earlier today I was interviewed by ABC Newcastle about my Hernia Mesh. I have been in hospital again this week and it was stressed to me that I should really come in with all my bowel obstructions. I hate it though as they seriously cannot get my veins and then there is the dreaded NG tube. So I treat myself at home, always ready to go to hospital quickly if the pain worsens or if I start vomiting. As it did in 2015. It is serious and not to be messed with.

The reporter was fantastic. I have met her before. We did this over the phone as she wants to get this report to go National ASAP. We had a good talk then she did the thing where she said she wanted to know how it really affected my life. So I told her. She is excellent in getting to the absolute heart of the subject.

And it is one of the reasons why this thing about time is so important to me. To grab life now, because I do not know if this will kill me one day. I really don’t. And before then I want to see all my friends and meet my lover’s family. And not feel like the other woman. Because that is how I have felt all weekend. As if I am someone who cannot meet most of  his family. Must not let his family know we are together. That his obligation to this female friend exceeds his obligation to me.

It might seem stupid to him but it is how I feel, and how most women in my position would feel I believe. I have given myself heart and soul to this man, and maybe that was wrong. Anyone who cannot be there or even find the time on such a day as this to let me know he is thinking of me, of my son, may not be worth my love. I have a lot of thinking to do and we need to talk. I never want to feel like this again. I need that to be very clear.

Resigned, Not Panicked

Today I went to the local Dental Clinic to have my mouth assessed for dentures. It is a difficult place for me to get to. The local bus that connects has a forty minute wait so I walked up to the shops via Belmont Citi Centre where I had a very nice coffee. Then I popped into two charity shops, scoring three gorgeous jackets for myself and a gorgeous dress too. I made it to the bus stop as the bus pulled up and it was a pleasant trip around the lake to the Dental Clinic.

However getting off the bus was problematic as it was not accessible so did not have a ramp and the driver pulled up right on the road. I tried about three times to get off then climbed down backwards, hoping my good leg would reach the higher curb.

Then began the walk down the really uneven unkempt sidewalk to the Clinic. I asked for a glass of water as soon as I got there as was feeling a bit rattled and the lovely Sarah got me one straightaway.

Then the male dental assistant…a first for me… called me in. I was sitting sipping water and quite well dressed and well presented if I do say so myself, wearing an art deco styled tunic in greens with black leggings and a bottle green tshirt under the tunic. Black sandals and an off white lace cardi coat completed the outfit. So it is always a surprise for medical staff and others when they see me get up and attempt to walk.

This lovely male dental assistant took my handbag and everything off me to assist me immediately he saw me hobbling. He commented that was some incapacity and was it recent. So I explained the mesh implant and how it had entrapped my nerves causing Drop Foot and other issues. Angharad the dentist and the lovely chap were pretty stunned.

My mouth is looking pretty good apparently. Apart from a chunk of bone Angharad picked out after numbing that side of my face with gel. She then arranged for me to see a Dental Technician to have two dentures fitted, one top and one bottom. And also a referall to Sydney Dental Hospital for implants.

I then started to make my way back to the bus stop to return home and found I was having a lot of trouble moving my left leg. It is the one with the drop foot but this was more the whole leg would not work which is the Cervical Stenosis at its worst. Lesson learned, too many dental appointments not good for me and I need to get a taxi or a lift back.

For some reason it reminded me of when my dad and I were in Swansea after seeing his GP and having a coffee in Cozzies. We waited outside Cozzies for over two hours for a taxi. I called and called and not one of them would come down from Belmont to Swansea. I was getting frantic as I could not leave dad alone as he had no road sense due to dementia but I could feel my Colostomy Bag filling up. I was really horrified when it burst open. I rang one final time and let Newcastle Taxis have it, telling them I had a demented man sitting waiting beside me near the Pacific Highway and I had just burst my Colostomy Bag.

Of course dad was horrified by my bag bursting. He said I could go find a toilet but I could not leave him and I could not take him into the disabled toilets nearby as he would be even more horrified if he saw my stoma and what I had to do to clean up the mess.

Luckily a lovely taxi driver who works out of Belmont took pity on me then and was there very quickly and drove us the short distance to Cave’s Beach. He ignored the awful smell and apologised and gave us his card so we could call him directly in future.

Today I waited outside Belmont Citi Centre and again there were no taxis as it was changeover time and the few cabs there were usually picked up schoolchildren from various places. I decided to try to walk home but needed to rest. The looks from people had been horrified as they saw me dragging myself across the carpark.

So as I sat I reflected on the fact that this time I was resigned, not panicked as I had been five years ago about getting home. This time I did not have a demented dad relying on me for everything and who was unable to get the bus or walk up the two hills.

This time I only had myself to deal with. However my precious son came and met me at the Centre. Looking very concerned at my face. He does not have to look at my legs or tummy, he can read everything on my face. I so very much wish he did not know how to. But he has been exposed to so much pain and suffering since we have been up here that he just gets it. And how proud I am of him, the way he went and bought me an iced coffee to sip while he popped to the post office. Knowing that when he came back we would be able to get home without a taxi as there are lots of benches on the way home to rest upon. Which is what we did, he had brought my walking stick with him and I walked on the grass verge and it was a lot easier than the pavement.

Am resting now, thankful for the lesson my body gave me. And eternally grateful to have such a wonderful son.

Timing Is Everything

In July 2015 I bought a small unassuming cabin with a nice sized garden. The place is Land Lease in that I pay for the use of the land and utilities. This is becoming a popular thing with Baby Boomers who need money for their retirement, or like me have little money after bitter silver divorces. The actual park has masses of huge trees and flowering shrubs which are home to an abundance of bird life. It is a short walk to the lake and near to shops and transport.

I was really excited to move in, apart from being heartbroken that I had to leave the family Burmese cat behind. Chanti and I were devoted to each other, as she was to the whole family. Except we had a special bond due to C and G going overseas and Chanti and I really bonding while being alone together. I truly believe she healed me of some of the dreadful pain I felt after my mother’s death in mid 2014. She is an old cat and never jumped onto anyone’s lap, however the day I was leaving she came running down the hallway and leapt onto my tummy and snuggled close. It was harder than leaving my son, because I knew he had wanted his own place since he was 18, and now he was finally getting it.

I ordered my lounge furniture to be made in teal chenille which would take up to three months, and settled in as well as I could with everything else that had been delivered. G drove the removal truck and with C they moved my boxes that had been in storage since April 2013. I had not brought a lot with me from Sydney, mostly my quilts and my art and quilting books, unfinished quilts and my two favourite tea sets of mixed china. Bedlinen, duvets, blankets, towels, cushions and throws needed to be bought up here as well as dinner sets etc. I was basically starting again, I wanted to leave the near thirty years with my ex totally behind me.

My son stayed in Wallsend, his fiancé in Sydney came up weekends and they visited on Saturdays at first to help me get settled. The garden was neat but not really to my taste so I tidied it while I worked out what I was going to do with it. I found it hard at first to adjust to being alone after living with families and my own family for over forty years but I adjusted and enjoyed the time alone to read and watch DVDs and Netflix etc.

However all of 2015 I had been in and out of hospital with bowel obstructions due to a Parastomal Hernia. Luckily one Saturday in late August my son and his fiancé were there when I had a really bad one. Due to nearly dying and needing months to recover physically and psychologically from the surgery I did not return to my home until November. The garden was in a shocking state and there were so many deliveries from eBay and various stores as I ordered most of my household goods online. Luckily the Park staff once they found out I had nearly died opened up for me so the deliveries could go straight inside.

Eventually I had the place absolutely as I wanted it, a spare room for my son or friends to stay in, which they did. My dad visited with a nurse regularly for tea, weekly in fact. Meanwhile my son had a dreadful experience with a home invasion in his place, people were badly injured who got in the way of the assailants. He came to stay with me until he got up the courage to go back but we were both concerned for his safety. Then he broke up with his fiancé early 2016, Chanti the Burmese went back to Sydney with G and eventually C gave into my nagging and the detectives suggestions that he move out of Public Housing and in with me.

Easter Monday 2016 he moved in with the delightful Robinson movers who service Lake Macquarie. The owner had not realised it was Easter Monday so his lovely wife helped him. They did such a great job, very friendly and professional. When they finished here they took his furniture which would not fit and his excess boxes etc and put them into a Storage Facility for him. C was pleased to be in my bedroom as he had a double bed he wanted to eventually have in there. I moved into the spare room which had recently had the floor replaced and wooden laminate put down after a nasty episode of water leakage all over the carpet under the window. I also pulled up all the lino in the kitchen and bathroom and found a layer of stagnant water there. Once it was cleaned out though the floor was sound and no mould was found. I managed with the horrid old adhesive lino as I knew water could not get under that and damage the walls.

We really enjoyed being back together again, though it was an adjustment for both of us we always get on well and work as a team. Around the same time I got stuck into the garden, holding the left side of my tummy firmly as I did so. I cut back really hard the Lily Pily and had my handyman Alan remove some horrid old Azaleas. There were several good plants that I also cut back and I planted a few Buddleja Davidiis. Removed a lot of horrid cobbling which was not working as a path as it was covered by the Lily Pily. A lovely dad and his two girls came and dug them up for me and removed them. For free! Then the long experiment with what would work as a ground cover started. The ground was shocking, I loaded the soil with Blood and Bone regularly. Tried white ground cover magnolias, mass planted. They died. Then white daisies, also mass planted, all but one died. The most success I had was with ground cover nasturtiums, with sugar cane mulch to germinate them.

So after much rearranging and selling of furniture C and I have blended our things to create a cozy though tiny home. Having our own home has made me feel rooted to the community, helped me destress when things with my dad and his care home became so very difficult. Shutting the door, getting a cup of tea and putting my feet up in our home, because it is very much my son’s and mine now, is so therapeutic. After two years of turmoil and the torture for so many years before that, this is my haven, my peaceful place and I love inviting special friends into it. One regret I have is that I broke off contact with someone after I nearly died, that I did not trust that he would want to be my friend through this. However we have reconnected now and are very close. He is the one of the many voices, and I love him so much and trust him. We are so very good together. Sometimes timing is everything, as we both know so well.

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