Updated Weightloss Photos

I've been blogging since January 2005. That's just incredible to me! I haven't written for large months at a time, but I regularly keep coming back to it… normally when I'm trying again in some way or other!!

But to have a history of more than 11 years of my life, my struggles and triumphs… well that's pretty good, even though I am still (currently) fat.

I have loved the journey, frustrating as it has been. I feel though, that the worst is now behind me and I am rapidly climbing out of the quagmire of fat and self loathing. I have never truly hated my body, I just hated everyone else on earth's perception of fat people. The assumptions that they jump to and all the derogation we face on a daily basis. It's disgusting and hideously judgmental.

Currently in the UK there are arguments being bandied about that the morbidly obese should not be allowed operations or procedures because of their overweight. Yes. True story. Apparently the reasoning behind this is that people who are obese have done it to themselves and are therefore not as deserving as someone who is of normal weight. Under the same category come alcoholics, smokers etc. What about Anorexics? I wonder if they will be denied medication and or operations? Doubtful. As a nation (world?), people consistently see people who starve themselves as sad and unhappy cases and want to nurture them back to health. They take a careful approach with emphasis of care and baby steps. If only the same were true of the health system for obese patients. In my opinion, both the obese and anorexics amongst us suffer from the same body dysmorphic tendencies, inner voices, punishment and emotional terror. The need to control what these problems stem from are also the same. Bullying is the same for both too. However, that's where the similarity ends. The way obese people are treated by professionals, with their lack of empathetic understanding, is simply a compounding and vicious situation. If only they would treat us the same, there would be immediately better outcomes.

Anyway, I'm in my happy place and although the end is still a long way off, it's weirdly in sight too.

Here's a little happy pic of me. I can practically see the soul light coming back into my eyes! 15kg - 35lbs down!

L/R Today 22nd October 2016 v Week before Bypass 30th August 2016 

I've also updated my Weightloss journey in photos (right had column), so feel free to see the current changing body of bunny if you dare. I look forward to the next 35lbs off!

Progress so far

Hi everyone, things are going well. I'm pretty much off the pappy soft food and onto a normal, but relatively wet diet. I am eating salad again thank goodness! I was craving this so badly. I even munched on a whole romaine lettuce head and then spat it out rather than swallow - it got THAT bad!

But things are fine. I can eat about 3/4 to a cup of food. As long as I keep the sugar way down, this can literally be anything. Again the confusing "protein" question rears its ugly head. This never meant much to me when I was banded as our guts were never rearranged, so never really got the whole high protein need fad. Since bypass however, I can defo see why its a necessity.

I am not following a diet of any kind apart from trying to get all my protein in. I have given myself a break on this for the last 5 weeks as it's too hard to get protein in when on a soft diet unless you drink those devastatingly foul protein shakes :( YUK!

But as I've been feeling better and eating more normally, I am trying to make sure that it's the first thing on the menu.

I am also not following a low carb diet. I know that a lot of people do, but it was not mentioned at my dieticians appointment and to be honest, was slightly discouraged. She said "You are not doing this to be on a 'diet' for the rest of your life are you". Made sense to me. She even used the 'air bunnies' lol! That said, when you are eating the amount of protein needed post op, it doesn't leave a lot of room for anything else, so carbs are not particularly high in any case.

So protein high, sugar low. That's my goal. It's working so far and I'm currently standing at just over 13kg loss (2 stone!!!). To say I'm thrilled is an understatement. Todays weight is 110.9kgs down from 124kg.

My favourite meal so far post op was this delicious Salmon salad:


Loved every bite and so did my new guts arrangement! I also found a sweet treat that doesn't kill me with sugar overload, or mad calories… Oppo Mint Chocolate swirl ice cream. I found it in the local Co-op convenience store randomly, but you can get it in Waitrose and Budgens too (UK stores). It was 80 calories for this bowl full!!! Can you believe it? I think in the US there is Halo Top which is a similar thing. This Oppo stuff is made with coconut oil, spirulina and raw cacao. Superfood goodness and tastes EPIC!
 

Been doing a bit of meal prepping too. I made a massive chilli con carne in the crock pot and made lots of little dishes and froze them so that I had something to eat whilst I was dying of pneumonia (yes, I have to say that I am still suffering from this and not entirely 100%!)



(Excuse the state of my kitchen - no housework has been done for over a month!! HAHA)

And on the hospital front, the clot is under control, but the pneumonia continues to be a pain in the back. Its still hideous. I keep taking the pain killers and hoping for the best though. I am back to work because I want to still own my house! It was getting freaking desperate after not working for 3 months. It's just not possible to sustain a £400 a week loss of wages for any more time without having to sell all I own, including our son and pets, and possibly my husband too!! Its bad. It's fab being self employed until you can't work, and this has stung me in the backside big time.

I also still have the remains of my war wounds… my operation and subsequent hospital stay bruises are nearly gone though and here they captured here for posterity 5 weeks and 3 days later. Yes, I like to keep my bruises a long time!



Also my instagram account byebyeband.hellobypass is up and running with my weightloss pics. Come check it out. I don't post much at the minute though. I am doing 3 posts every 3 weeks or so, so that I can look back and see the difference. I'm doing it in such a way that to view the change, it's best to look at the grid of photos rather than the individual shots. That way, I can just scroll to see me disappearing!

I'm fitting in clothes I haven't worn for a year and that makes me feel FAB!

3 weeks ago I was under the knife!

I can't believe it's been 3 weeks already. It feels like a lifetime, and no time at all.

I can see a difference in my face, and my watch needs a link out already! That's too crazy to believe actually.

I had a long pillow chat with my husband after we turned the lights off last night… me just worrying that this will fail or go wrong just like my band did. I know it's crazy but I had SO much trouble with that darned band that I just can't believe that it's all going to actually happen.

I have several goals.

I'm gunna write them down here just because I want to se them and then update when I complete them.

All my weight loss goals are based on previous weight loss efforts, or weights from the past that I want to see again and want to surpass. I might not be exactly correct, but it's what I can remember.


Start weight 124kgs - 7th September 2016

114kgs - What I weighed when I had my Lab Band 2007 - DONE ✅ 27th September 2016

112kgs - What I weighed when I went on the JVS radio show May 2012 - DONE ✅ 5th October 2016

110kgs - What I weighed at Christmas 2013 - DONE ✅ 15th October 2016

96.4kgs - What I weighed at Christmas 2012 - DONE✅ 23rd December 2016

93.2kgs - What I weighed at my LOWEST March 2013 - DONE ✅ 3rd February 2017

Now into the realms of fantasy…

85kgs - My weight when I met my husband aged 19 in 1996 - DONE ✅ 31st March 2017

80kgs - Very happy to reach here and remain stable. 

74kgs - My ultimate fantasy dream goal. What I weighed in Senior School.


So 50kgs is my ultimate weightloss goal. I was however, feeling very happy with myself when I was 93kgs. I felt the bees knees literally. Light as a feather in step and attitude, so that will be a great one to feel again. Overall though, I will be perfectly happy getting to 80kgs. I'm not living in a fantasy world and I know getting back to what I weighed in school will be very very outside edge of reality, but who knows. It's a challenge and a lot make it. Anything lower that 93kg will be amaze balls.

So there they are. Lets see how many I can tick off.

The deed is done! Goodbye band, Hello bypass!

So, it's goodbye to the band and hello to the Bypass!! 

(Instagram goodbyeband.hellobypass)

I had my Roux-en-Y Gastric Bypass on 7th September 2016 in Brugge, Belgium.

I went to Brugge with DH on 28th August, the week before surgery, to have a gastroscopy to make sure that everything was ok for the band to be removed and the bypass done at the same time. The gastroscopy was great and showed nothing untoward except a teeny tiny patch of pink from indigestion/acid reflux. It must have been small as, as far as I knew I'd never had acid reflux!

I was really worried about having a gastroscopy; I'd never had one before and I was petrified of choking or something similar. I had nothing to fear. It was all totally fine, minimally annoying and after about 30 minutes, like it never happened!

We spent the rest of the day chilling in Brugge having a beer and enjoying the food. It was our anniversary weekend too which made it even nicer, so apart from the gastroscopy, it was a really lovely day out. When you consider it also cost us £1000 less to go to Belgium and have it done too, I was even more pleased!! ;-)

Then I travelled back to Brugge on 5th September and checked into the hotel ready to have all my pre-op tests and my surgery.

All my pre-ops were done on 6th: ECG, Bloods & Barium Swallow. I then had a meeting with the Dietician who gave me my post operative guidelines. Basically it would be liquid for a day and then puree for 6 weeks. Not too bad really. I then had a meeting with Dr. Dillemans who looked over all my Pre-op tests including the gastroscopy. Usually its a 95% possibility of Band to Bypass in one operation, but after reviewing my images he said that I had a 98% chance of having it in one operation as my band was in a good position and there was no erosion or slippage.

I then went in to see his secretary and handed over my bag of cash!

We went back to the hotel and chilled for a bit and then later on went out for a slap up meal in the restaurant De Carre. That was the same restaurant that I had my last meal before my band too! It was divine!

On the 7th, I had to be at the hospital early at 6:30am. I was taken to my room at about 7:30am, initial ops were all completed by 8:00am and then the first problem occurred! I had a fever.

My temperature was 38.6 oC!! This is very high, but I wasn't feeling ill at all. I had no idea how I could have been totally fine beforehand, and now had a high fever. It sent the nurse into a bit of a panic and she called a doctor. Another nurse quickly took my blood to check my CRP level and white cells. This came back clear and of no note.

Then, Dr. Dillemans, in full scrubs, came up himself and checked me over. He made me cough and stuff and felt my skin and looked at me and decided that maybe I was just hot from the room (It was BAKING!) and the fact I had got some sun the day before. With the blood results negative for inflammation or infection they were going to go ahead.

It was a huge relief! I had insurance, so if they had had to cancel my operation, then it would not have been the end of the world. It would have just meant that I would have had to wait and that would have been seriously annoying as I had psyched myself up for it.

So they prepared me for surgery. I was probably the first to go down to surgery that day I think because they finished my obs and extra blood tests and stuff all by 8:45am and Dr Dillemans had been up too… but I went down to Surgery at about 9:00am!

My room was lovely by the way: Separate sinks, toilets and everything. Such a pleasure to know you don't need to permanently carry antibacterial wipes about with you like you do here in the UK. There was also only 2 beds in the room! Much better!! So sterile.

 


I came out of surgery into recovery. The operation itself took about 50 minutes altogether, but I was in recovery for a long time though and not back in my room until about 3:30pm. I slept and was super dopey for the entire evening, although I didn't have that much pain. I had a drain in my side, but it didn't cause me too much bother at all. I was just worried about pulling it out!




I managed to take a couple of after shots. I had a massive bruise and fat lip too, which I assume is from where I was intubated or where they inserted the large bore gastric tube to make my new stomach pouch. It really hurt!

I was also super hot. Literally burning up and was spraying myself with the remaining water in the Evian atomiser can. I had a flannel too that I wet and left on my head. It was ridiculous. The temperature didn't go down until the evening on day 2! However, I had nothing wrong with me at all. I felt 100% fine at all times and I didn't get sick even later on.

I found it really difficult to focus on anything over the next couple of days, which was different to when I had the band. I also found it hard to swallow cold or room temperature water; coffee was much easier. The sensation of drinking and eating afterwards was totally different to when the band was there. There was no resistance at all, just a full sensation. I was super careful while eating my first meal on day 2.

I had been nil by mouth for the entire day of surgery, just using the atomiser of Evian to spray into my mouth to wet it. It helped a lot although my mouth tasted like butt!

The next day I was water only until about 6pm when they gave me a yoghurt to eat. I managed half before I could not eat any more. Im not sure why I couldn't manage more… I think it was just because I felt a revulsion. I feel that now, its like a "Urgh, I don't want anything else" feeling rather than a full feeling. I have not been hungry at all since my surgery.

This yoghurt was particularly gross. It was plain, set and just yuk, but I ate it. I got my parents to buy some Petite Suisse from Aldi near the hotel for when I got out as they are low in fat and high in protein. 

My breakfast on day 3 was more usual, but not what i was expecting so early on. There was some toast, coffee and a yoghurt! It was impossible to eat that much. Just looking at it made my head swell. 

The toast was like a thick Melba toast. Very dry and crispy and therefore breaks down easily. There was margarine and cheese spread or jam to have with it. I went for cheese spread as I did want to risk dumping on the jam. The coffee was amazing but it took me so long to drink that it was cold by the time I'd finished. I have to eat and drink separately, so I made sure I got my caffeine buzz first!! 

I didn't even bother with the yoghurt. It was pointless even trying. 

The nurse came into the room about midday and took my drain out as there was no more effluent from it and removed it. JEEEZ that thing is LONG!! It was causing me no bother at all, but when it came out YOWCH! Mine was about 6 inches. I hadn't been in much pain at all, and I was absolutely amazed by this and at how easily, if tentatively, I could get up and all about. It was hard to get out of bed and stuff, but it wasn't that bad once I was up. It was a massive improvement on how I felt after the Lap Band surgery for sure… so to get this crazy pain after removing the drain?... I just wasn't expecting it. Thankfully it settled down after a few minutes and it didn't bother me again. 

The nurse put these bandages on and I was to leave them for 10 days. The drain was under the one on the far right and the old port scar was under the one next to that. The biggest tool they use goes through the one on the far right too, and both of those are quite big incisions.. just over and inch each. The others in the centre were painless and they are quite small: about 1/3rd of an inch in size. The one on the left is again quite big but not as big as those on the left. Its about an inch wide and although panels for a week or so, niggles occasionally now and then. 

About 1:30 on day 3 I was released, so I got a Taxi back to the hotel. Mum and Dad were waiting for me and had been enjoying the sunshine as Belgium had been enjoying a strange and fortuitous period of late summer. It was good that there was an outdoor pool and they used it every day. 

Everything went swimmingly. We left Belgium on the 11th September and I drove home. Yes, I drove! I was in great shape and in hardly any pain. It was fabulous. 

However, things were about to change. You might have been wondering why I hadn't written about this until now…well! 

We got home Sunday night and all was great. I went to bed and stayed there, and I stayed there all Monday too. Obviously I got up to mooch about and stuff, but just tried to relax and take it easy so that I recuperated nicely. But, I had a pain in my side. 

The pain was liken a stitch. It was in my lower left back. It was really sharp sometimes, but mostly it just caught me when I burped, moved, or breathed in too far. 

The pain of this stitch got worse and worse over the course of the day, and I though "here we go, here's the gas pain.. its all been too easy", because I'd had nothing at all, and it had been such a walk in the park. I jammed a pillow under my left elbow and tried not to move too much. 

When I came to lie down that evening though, it was agony. It took me ages to get comfy and sort out my position. Obviously at that time I couldn't lie on my side, but lying on my back was really awful, so I was sort of half sitting, half laying down. During the night I was awoken several times by massively sharp pains like I had been drawn through with a sword. It was the sharpest, longest pain I have ever experienced. It took your breath away, and you couldn't even breathe in as breathing in hurt too much. 

I couldn't cough, breath in, blow my nose, sniff, take an inhaler even though I was wheezy, move much or do anything. The only relief I had was when I was standing and panting like a dog. 

At 6am Tuesday I rang my surgeon in Belgium. He did some diagnostic tests over the phone and said that he suspected I had a Pulmonary Embolism or PE for short. He said I should get to the doctor immediately and they would check me out. So that's what I did. I went to the doctor and he did few things, listened to my breathing, chest, back, sides etc… Then he made me lie down to hear my bowel sounds and I nearly died. It was the most hideous pain ever. He didn't think there was too much wrong with me, and that I would be home and tucked up in bed again by tea time. How wrong was he!

He sent me into hospital for them to double check me over, but didn't think it was anything to worry about. Considering I'd gone form a 1/10 kind of pain to a 100/10 pain within 24hours I KNEW something was wrong! 

When I got to hospital I had a barrage of tests… D-Dimmer, CRP, Chest X-ray, ECG and eventually a CT scan. The D-Dimmer was raised indicating a PE, but so was the CRP (130 when normal range is less than 10!) so indicating an infection. 

My worst nightmare about getting a leak was freaking me out. I was literally climbing the walls of my mind and praying, a lot!

They told me I had a PE, but also that I had significant fluid on the lung and my lung had collapsed. This only briefly made me feel better because fluid on my lung and a PE could still mean I had a leak. Then one of the nurses freaked me out because the treatment for a PE is blood thinning, which breaks down scabs as well, and as I'd had surgery so recently they thought I might start bleeding from my incisions… Well that had me terrified! I was not so much worried about my incisions coming apart, because they could stitch them, but my 2 new internal anastomoses where they had joined my bowel to my stomach!! I was going mad inside. 

Heres a picture of my buggered left lung:

I made a call to my surgeon who reassured me that the anastomoses were made using a circular stapler and that they were very strong. He really put my mind at ease that I wasn't going come apart inside, that I had no other symptoms of a leak - fever, chills, pain in my shoulder sickness and nausea etc, and that it was all going to be fine. So I started to calm down about that, then started to worry about the clot moving and having a stroke! Honestly I was a mess. 

After a couple of days in the hospital things started to calm down. I hadn't died and they said the clot was breaking down ok… but I now had an infection and pneumonia, so I had to start on IV antibiotics. This wasn't so bad, and I gradually started to feel less breathless, need less morphine and less oxygen. 

Things started to return to normal and after a week I was released. I am still on bed rest, but I'm able to potter about. I am feeling gradually better and better and brighter in myself. I only get breathless when I climb the stairs or do something too quickly like stand up too fast and immediately start walking. I have to stand up then wait and then crack on. Very weird! 

So now I am home, recuperating and taking things easy. I have also lost a significant amount of weight in a very short time. I am kind of worried what people are going to say because I haven't told many people about the bypass. Most people who know me know that I have a band, and they know that I've been in hospital having the band removed. I have failed to fill them in on the full details though. 

I am in 2 minds about this. I told so many people about my band that I wished I hadn't because it didn't work. I don't want to tell anyone about the bypass for similar reasons, but also for the fact that I just don't want people judging me again like they did when I had the band. I got a ton of negative comments and looks, and smugness when it didn't work but just ruined my life daily - the "I told you so" kind of thing.

But then on the other hand, if I lose a ton of weight, people are going to ask how. I have a few friends that are obese, and a few that are morbidly obese too and I don't want to say "yeah I just dieted" and then have them think "why the hell can't I stick to it too" and feel bad about themselves. I guess I'm going have to cross that bridge when I get there. 

One things for sure, everyone thinks its totally fine to comment on your weight loss or lack of it, and give you tips on how to do it. It's like a free subject for them to comment on, when in fact I think that kind of thing is more hurtful. You wouldn't comment on someones disability, or offer advice on how to rehabilitate oneself, and when you are morbidly obese like I am/was, then you are basically disabled. No amount of tips help. It just shoves your face into that pie further because someone has noticed you're fat, when you and often your nearest and dearest have been telling you for ever that no one cares and no one notices you anyway. Hmmm yeah right. 

Anyway, my surgery is done, and I have to prepare myself for the barrage of comments. 

I weighed in at 124kgs - 273lbs -19stone 7lbs on 7th September.

Today I am 115.6kgs - 255 - 18stone 3 on 24th September. 

That's 8.4kg or about 18lbs in just over 2 weeks. BRILLIANT!!

I haven't weighed this little in about 2 years I don't think :-)

  

Some unexpected costs...

When planning surgery abroad, directly with the hospital, one must remember that when you ask for the cost of the surgery, this is the price you will be given.

It does NOT include the costs of tests needed prior to the operation.

Yesterday I received an email with a request for a Gastroscopy to check everything was ok down my throat and to the point of my band. This needed to be completed before the operation.

As I only have 13 days until I travel to Brugge, I was suddenly sent into a blind panic!

I phoned about 7 or 8 hospitals and hospital access groups to find someone who could do a consultation (why?!) and then do the test. The worst part was not that most of them couldn't fit me in, but that the cost was between £1400 and £1800 ARGHHH!!!

I did manage to find one consultant that would see me, and I booked to have the consultation on Friday (3 days time) and the procedure on the following Tuesday. However, that was before I asked myself the question of whether I could actually get this all done in Belgium too.

I phoned Dr. Dillemans secretary this morning and asked her. The reason she didn't suggest coming all the way to Belgium for the test was that she didn't want to put me out. She thought it would be easier to have it in England. NO WAY!! So I booked it. I'm having the scope on Monday 29th August in Brugge! This happens to be a public holiday in the UK, so my hubbie can come too.

I've just booked the Eurotunnel - £190 as it is a bank holiday Monday - and the procedure itself costs 300 euro.

I mean WHAAAAAAAAT!!!!! That's £250! What the hell is England playing at man?

I can go to Belgium in my car, get it done and be home the same day, including a nice day trip out with my hubby as it's our anniversary too, for less that £500!!! That's a huge amount of difference.

So sod paying through the nose here.

Total surgery costs are below for those interested in getting a Band revision to a RNY Bypass in the leading European Obesity Centre in Brugge, Belgium:

Surgery:              7750 euro
Gastroscopie:        300 euro
Barium Swallow:  150 euro
Bloods:                  100 euro
ECG:                     100 euro

Total 8400 euro - £7220 - $9500

If you pay in cash, you get a 4% discount. So I'm going to do that.

So beware the little extras, as these are not quoted when you ask how much it costs to do a band to bypass revision.

I've got my Euros! €7750 of them!

So glad I have a safe!

Today I got my €uros as I have to pay up in cash when I arrive in Belgium. My original Lap Band surgery cost far less, but times have marched on. If I had changed my £ to € about 2 weeks ago, I would have about £500 extra in my pocket but the ridiculous government reduced the interest rate to 1/4 f a percent and the pound against the Euro took a nosedive. GRRRRRRR Just ridiculous.

I can't take any more chances that it will drop further, as its basically gambling with a lot of money, so I changed it up today.

Not long now!

Planning, waiting and preparing to not be a pussy!

So, 5 weeks today!

To say I'm scared is an understatement. I just keep thinking of the things that could go wrong. Even though I know that the vast majority of these things go to plan without a hitch, I'm worrying from the smallest of wrong things to the big.

Heres my list of worries:

1.) I get to Belgium, have my barium swallow (freaked about the too, as never had one!) and they see that there is a big leak or something and I will have to wait to have my bypass.

2.) I get into surgery and THEN they find I can't have it and I wake up bandless but not bypassed

3.) I get a bleed from the surgery

4.) I get a clot

5.) I get both of these, or a big leak and it all comes undone and I end up filling my body cavity with protein shakes or some horror

6.) I get the scar tissue thing where they have to give you a scope and insert a balloon to dilate the stoma where your tubes are bypassed because you can't eat or drink.

7.) I have to have No.6.  loads of times like Kacy Quinn! (Youtube!)

8.) I suffer horrific internal bleeding like another YouTuber had from an ulcer or similar.

9.) I die in pain.

10.) IT DOESN'T WORK

Yes, the whole thing not working is worse than death!!!

So this is my list. I am actually going to ask all of these questions to my surgeon as I am worried also about the money aspect. I mean, if something goes wrong and I'm in hospital for weeks… who pays?

I'm guessing that this is factored into the fees… sort of like an insurance? Those that have no issue basically pay for those that do… that kind of thing maybe? Maybe the surgery itself is really like £5000 but £1500 of it covers any serious issues. That then builds up so even though someone hasn't paid any extra, they will be covered. I dunno I'm just rambling.

But anyway, that's my current worry focus. So, to try and get away from it, and give myself the best fighting chance, I'm just making plans. I've got my vitamins to start taking in about 2 weeks time, which will then be about 3 weeks before the surgery rather than the suggested 2.

Here's what I have so far:



The first one, Hair Skin and Nails, contains a lot of vitamins useful for building and repairing our skin. So this will be good for getting my body ready to help heal itself. I thought that was a nifty idea ;-)

The Vitamin C I have bought as melons. There has been a lot of studies conducted which suggest that those taking vitamin C after surgery heal quicker and have less side effects like by HALF!  As I won't be able to swallow pills, I bought the melt variety. You can read about it here: Vitamin C. These will be great as I can take them immediately after surgery.

Now the other ones… Grapeseed Extract and Bromelian. There is a herbal tablet about called InflammEnz. Trials suggest that people taking it heal 17% faster than those that don't, although I am always dubious with such things ( even though that's taken from WebMD). I'm guessing it can't hurt! It contains 7 different vitamins and enzymes and the following:

Vitamin C
Bromelian
Rutin
Grapeseed Extract

Infammenz is expensive though and, to be honest, looks a bit of a quack item. Packaging is proper crappy and it just looks whack. So I am going to be taking the main ingredients from it separately and at a fraction of the cost. As I'm getting ready little by little, Rutin (a bio flavonoid) is still to be purchased. A job for today!

Also, after surgery I am not eating to be throwing hundreds of pills down my throat, and whilst I was browsing in Holland and Barrett health food store, I came across this:



I can literally pump 4 squirts of this on my tongue and thats my full compliment of vitamins for the day! No water, no swallowing. Fabulous. It was also only £10 for 40 days!

So I'm doing all I can to be ready, and hopefully be in the best place to help myself heal.

On another positive note, I have had NO PORT PAIN for about a week. That means I haven't had to take tramadol, and haven't been itching myself to death either. Phew!! I have Co-Amoxiclav antibiotics real to go just incase it flares up again, but as we speak… all good. :)

Waste of time. Plan A it is!

I went to my appointment today at a big Cambridge Hospital regarding my port pain.

I have been waiting to see the chap there (Mr. H) for about 2 months, so I wasn't going to cancel even though I have already booked my bypass surgery. Which I didn't tell him about either ;)

I arrived, a nurse checked my weight and height and then I sat with about 35 other people in a swelteringly hot room with all the windows shut slowly wilting. Thankfully it was only about 45 minutes that I had to wait.

Yet another nurse took me through to the consultation room and I sat there and waited some more.

Mr H. came through and asked me why I was there (!!) so I briefly told him: Lap band 10 years ago, which was then replaced some time later as it had burst, Huntingdon hospital didn't pick that up so I had had a lot of pain for months on end etc… Then I explained that in late February '16 I felt very bad pain in my port area similar to when my band broke before, which grew and grew and on 17th March I went to A&E as I thought there was something seriously wrong. They couldn't see anything, so sent me home with codeine. Then I was referred for CT scan because I was still in pain and now having to take tramadol regularly, which I had on 17th May. Apparently there was also nothing untoward in that regard either (except for my clips had come off from where I was sterilised 15 years ago arghhh!!!!)

I showed him the progressive photos of the bruise/bleed that appeared under my scar and got gradually bigger 2 weeks ago, but has since faded. I also showed him shots of the bruise by my tummy button.

Now remember today is 22nd July 2016, and the pain began suddenly exactly 5 months ago on the 22nd February. The bruising happened only 2 weeks ago.

He then felt the port a little for about 10 seconds and said I "probably" had a low grade infection, and would need antibiotics.

5 months to get antibiotics??? For God's sake!

Anyway, I said that actually I was very worried that as the pain was so sharp maybe it had flipped? and he said, "Weeeeell…. without referring you to X-ray to see the alignment bla bla…" In my mind then that's what you should flaming well do isn't it? But anyway, I then mentioned that I knew that if the band has eroded through the stomach wall it can cause a latent infection in the port site, but he was super vague and I got nothing apart from "It's a low grade infection… take antibiotics… it will come back… if its repeatedly getting infected then the system needs to be removed… more vague stuff, more vague stuff..."

No shit sherlock. Of course the damn thing needs to be removed!

The icing on the cake was when I said that if that was indeed the case, and the infection will keep coming back, then its horrible to just be constantly in pain for months on end and he said "Well there's nothing we can really do about that."

Wow. Cheers mate. All those years of training and this is all you can come up with.

So, after £7 bus fare and 3 hours of my life I'll never get back, he is writing a letter to my GP saying that I have some antibiotics immediately, and referring me to a level 3 obesity team.

Now, lets be clear, I understand that level 1 is like "If you eat less and move more you will get thin". Level 2 is a bit more advanced and gives you suggestions like "Did you know lettuce is good and donuts are bad?" and possibly someone looking down their nose at you and tutting in the hope you are shamed into losing weight. Level 3 seems to be the one where you get help after bands or bypass, or access to those treatments, but basically he is referring me to them so that if the infections keep coming back I will have it removed.

Going by previous encounters with these so called urgent referrals, I should get an appointment to see how the antibiotics are doing around the same time as I get back from my surgery in Brugge!!!!!!

Then I can just tell them to shove their crap care and pass the patient parcel game up their supposedly educated arses.

On a brighter note, I found my Hospital Card for AZ St. Jan Hospital, so that should save me some time and effort on the other side!

Pondering portions

Pondering what a meal will be like after bypass.

Last night we had bbq steak, jacket potato with sour cream and cajun green beans.

Now, considering I still have a lap band, I was able to eat most of this. But, here's what I left of the meal:

Then, it crossed my mind that this little bit in the centre might be the actual size of a 'big' meal post bypass (obviously a long way past bypass, but still). Just struck me that my leftovers, would kind of be my meals in the future! Ha! Love it!

T minus 52 days!

Its booked. 7th September is the day I have my conversion to Gastric Bypass.

I'm travelling to Brugge on 5th September with my Mum and Dad. I was going to just go with my Mum but she will be alone in a city for 2-3 days and although I'm sure she will be fine, I don't want to be worrying that she's lost in Belgium on her own!

So my dear old Dad is coming too. We've booked a 2 bedroom apartment which should be lovely. It's in the centre of Brugge so they can go off mooching for the day. It's close enough to the hospital that I can probably walk there for my pre op tests, and a Taxi back from the hospital isn't going to cost the earth either.

I am debating on taking the ferry or the tunnel. I think the ferry will be the cheapest, but it also takes loads of time too. like 2 & 1/2 hours :(

But I think that's easiest.

My parents live about 130 miles away away from us, and in the opposite direction from the port of Dover. because of this I am debating on collecting my parents from their home and then dropping them off afterwards, or whether my hubby and I will meet them half way, and then he can just drive home with their car and do the same on return.

Hmmm decisions decisions.

 

If I went directly to Dover from my house it would take about 2 and a half hours.

If my Mum and Dad went directly to Dover from their house it would take about 2 hours.

If I drive to man mum and Dad's house it would take about 2 and a half hours…

Adding this data together it means that I would have to drive for about 4 and a half hours each way.

Meeting definitely seems the best option then doesn't.

Cool. I'm glad we had this chat!! Now I have to convince them that this is indeed the best plan.

A new expedition?

Dear friends, you've listened to me whinge and whine about the band for the last 10 years, but me and the old goat are about to part. It's the last couple of weeks that I can whinge about it ever again.

Albert Ladysmith Steptoe, as I like to call my band, has been a pain in the backside (well stomach) for pretty much all of that time, and now it's had its last laugh.

For the last couple of months I have had excruciating pain in my port area. It started suddenly, and was a stabbing, continuous knife twisting pain.

As I'm sure you remember. I had that kind of pain back in May 2007 when my original band burst and the tubing whipped through my body cavity causing me endless distress and a new surgery 6 months later when I found out!

Because of this experience, I went to the hospital. I didn't mince my words, I made darn sure that I said I wanted to see the X-Ray after it had come through! When my original band burst, and the tubing flew off of my port, I went to hospital. They did an X-ray, CT scan and an ultrasound. I stayed in hospital for 3 days and even heard the nurse at a night changeover suggest "She's either in a lot of pain, or she's a very good actress" which I thought was a bit of a cheek! I was released after they checked all of those things as apparently there was nothing wrong with me... Possibly some IBS, maybe passed a kidney stone, maybe a little diverticulitis... But basically I was good to go.

BUT I WAS NOT!!!

The moronic doctors, radiologists and consultants had missed that there was a massive piece of tube lying in my guts all the way down to my pelvis, a disconnected port for no good reason and a load of shrapnel from the exploded buckle! For god's sake!!


Because of that I spent the next 6 months getting pointless fills, being told I would lose weight, being hungry, getting bigger, having serious pain whenever I bent over, cancelling work right left and centre etc etc until I went back to Belgium to see what the hell was going on,  just because they didn't spot that there was something wrong.

So, this time I was going to see those X-Ray's!

Everything was connected. The port looked fine and they didn't know what was up with me. I was booked for a CT scan, which I had on 17th May (yes, even the same timing as my original band break!!) and that showed up nothing untoward apparently... Except the clips on my Fallopian tubes from where I had been sterilised in 2001 had come off though 😳😳😳😳😳 Somewhat concerning! DH has still managed to glide over the fact we are getting him sorted as I'm not having a baby now with a 18 year age gap between his/her brother! And I like my sleep 😂

So I now have a port that's mega painful, occasionally massively bruises up under my old surgery scar, occasionally bruises near my belly button - those deep red bruises of a bleed not just a bump.

Old Gastric Band port scar

Strange bleed near my tummy button

I'm seeing a consultant about it on 22nd July. He's an NHS chap who deals with people who've had previous elective gastric surgery privately, or surgery abroad, and hopefully he can shed some light on it.

I have read a little here and there, as one does, and it's going to be bad whatever happens. The band will have to be removed, I'm dead sure. And the NHS won't give me a new one, or a bypass at the same time.

Either my port has flipped over or herniated causing the trauma locally, or the more likely story is that my band has eroded through my stomach wall. The band travelling through the stomach wall is pretty common, and is not as horrendous a problem as it seems per se.... But the buckle on the band is an issue. This lovely situation means that bugs from the guts travel down the tubing at the point of least resistance, and infect the port site. Pain at the port, swelling and stuff like that are oftentimes the only symptom.

I can no longer actually feel my port. It's all lumps and bumps and is too painful to feel naturally. I have braved the pain for a bit and had a dig about but I can't find it. I'm hoping that this means it's just a flip, but I always fear the worst, as with this little bit of silicone, it's always been the worst.

At any rate. The band is coming out. I have contacted Dr. Dillemans in Brugge and have made arrangements for him to remove it and convert me to a bypass. Surgery is likely to take place at the beginning of August nicely timed to coincide with the school holidays!

There I've said it, written it and now it's going to come true. Bypass me baby!

So I got fat again...

Yep.

Could just kick myself, but my legs are too fat and I'm too busy easting buttered toast.

Lets just say the unfill - as it always is - was a mistake.

Well actually, Im not sure it was a mistake. I have certainly felt better since having it removed. Its great to be able to drink a glass of water first thing in the morning, or the middle of the night, when its hot, when its cold, hanging upside down from a cliff etc etc.

Drinking liquids was always a source of frustration for me when I had the fluid in my band. To get restriction and no hunger meant I had to have about 6ml in my 12m band, which often meant I was trying for hours to get a 4 ounce glass of water down, and would often not be able to go to the gym because I'd spent my free time trying to drink beforehand. There is no way I could go to the gym and not drink whilst walking for miles on that treadmill either.

I succumbed to drinking a LOT of hot green tea. Hotter than I would like to drink, but it seemed to melt the mucus? Saliva? Make the band malleable enough?

Ugh. Just thinking about it makes me tired.

It did work. The band did work. Because I didn't have enough hours in the day to eat let alone drink!

So its been nice in that way and not a mistake having the fluid removed at all.

However, it was a mistake to think I was in control, or that I could control my portions or cheats etc and carry on without the fluid.

I very swiftly regained a few kgs, then some more then some more.

I have now regained all my lost weigh, and more.

I notice I had got down to 93kgs. Impressive. That's so far off from today that it makes me want to cry.

I am today about 120kgs. I was 124kgs a few weeks ago and most of this year has been spent toggling between 125kgs and 116kgs. Up and down and up and down endlessly.

I have yet again succumbed to the get thin quick crap and tried endless diets. Low carb, and meal replacement Exante Diet being the main ones this year.

I just have to decide what I'm going to do. I could convert to a bypass? Or a sleeve? I could try and work with the fill and be miserable? I could try and stick to my diet plan and exercise which got me the results last time… albeit with a filled band.

I dunno.

I'm fatter than when I started this blog back in 2005ish. I'm also coming up to my 9th Anniversary with the lapland. I can't believe its been that long and I am still fat.

I don't want to be fat. But I can't want to be thin either. What the hell is wrong in my head?

I guess the answer to that question would solve a million peoples obesity problems.

2016 must be the year I get myself together. One way or another. I don't want to be the cliched recipe for diabetes that I am now - fat, fair and 40.

On a more positive note, my blood reveals that I'm far from that being a reality, but still! You know what I mean.

Hugs Bunny.

Challenging myself

I have officially finished work for the summer YAY!

With that, I gave myself a couple of challenges.

The first challenge:
Keep on my eating plan after having ALL THE FLUID REMOVED from my band!

Yes, I finally decided that the band was being more of a hindrance than a help these days and as my eating is under my own control and has been stable for a year, that it was time to bite the bullet and have a complete de-fill.

I was also a little worried about erosion. It can't be a good thing to have something squeezing your tummy permanently. I haven't really considered this before, or even in the few years that I was trying to get the band working. I have been thinking about it a lot recently though.

My eating had been being hindered by my band to such an extent that I was being sick a lot, or having to drink very hot green tea before a meal to loosen things up etc. Now, I hear you saying " that's not what you should do!" but that IS what I should do. That is what I needed to do to eat a full meal and you just don't need to do that kind of thing if you get rid of the fluid and find enough will power. I haven't been using the band to help me lose weight for over a year... in my opinion the only thing it's done (and that only marginally) is stop me feeling hungry. Once that window of opportunity is gone, the only thing we can do is move more and eat less.

I was finding that the band was stopping my enjoyment of my meal and making me a social outcast as I went everywhere with my tea pot and it was impossible to plan meals out etc. It didn't stop me eating the meal - it just slowed it down until it was stone cold and everyone else was thoroughly pissed off with me.

So I had 5mls out on Sunday 14th July.

I don't know if any of you get this feeling, but when I have a fill or a de-fill, I get a hot flush and funny woozy dizzy feeling. It is so strange and this one was a biggy. It just shows how sensitive our body is and how we need to be careful about these things. I was worried that the constant aggravation of the nerves at my band site would or will cause me some issues with my health in the future, so having it loose will hopefully lessen the impact it has. I don't know quite what I am worried about - cancer mainly, or erosion or something really unpleasant. I just hope it's enough.

When I had the fluid out, I felt amazing. I was by no means tightly filled, but I would definitely have to 'plan' meals. I couldn't just drink a big glass of water straight from the tap if I was thirsty. I couldn't just have a coffee whilst out shopping. Everything was pre-thought. Everything had the "ok... here we go... how does the first mouthful of this feel.... blimey I hope this is going to go down as I don't have a cup to throw up in handy" it was always that kind of mental process going on. Being able to drink a cup of coffee and have no ill effects by no means meant that a second would go down either. Being able to eat half a dinner by no means meant that the rest would follow suit. I was just fed up completely with it's fickleness.

It just annoyed me too much. When it got to the point that I couldn't go to the gym one day because for the previous 2 hours I had been standing in my kitchen trying to drink something (start with a hot water, then a green tea then get cooler and cooler until BINGO! We are off!) that's when I decided quite frankly I had had enough. I had been faffing around trying to drink something to get things moving that I had used up all the spare time I had anyway. How can you go to the gym and not refresh yourself? Impossible. I found I was stressed and dreading eating/drinking at all times.

That people, is no way to live.

Now, this is my experience, and I fully know that I seem to have had a completely different band experience than anyone else on the planet, but there you go. That just shows you that it is not always the miraculous answer to a prayer. It has been the bain of my life to be honest.

Anyway, the fluid was out, I immediately downed a pint of water at record speed - or basically like a normal human.

It was lovely. I ate normally and I drank more cool drinks that I had for a couple of years and even had ice in a G & T! Delish!

Having my fluid out didn't mean I ate more, I have been able to keep to my plan and feel that my eating habits are more in line with a regular person these days and that I have successfully conquered this overeating nightmare for the time being. I am by no means being smug here either... I mean, who knows what will happen in the future, but for now - we are cooking on gas!

I still don't feel hunger, but I do feel a weakness that wasn't there when I had my fluid in. This I have found disappears if I have a pint of squash or water. I was always under the impression that you feel weak because you are starving or have low in blood sugar or something and need food. Well I am eating exactly the same way, and only spotted this feeling since the un-fill. This suggests to me that this purely psychosomatic, especially as it disappears so easily.

A struggle that I am having is not to gulp food. It is so lovely to be able to take a big bite of sandwich and know that its not going to be gurgling down the sink 30 seconds later, that chomping food down fast is something I have to watch.

To curb this I am trying to eat with a pastry fork and or teaspoon. This has helped. I have kept my small plate and I am still using Livestrong to keep track of my nutrients and my calories.

Keeping to my eating plan will remain my permanent challenge, but knowing that I can eat more and exercise more is a great tool. It's something I find I quite enjoy... the play off.

The second challenge:

Exercise enough to burn of 1000 calories per day

This is a personal fitness challenge. I can easily manage 1000 calories, but it's usually the time that I have available that dictates the amount of exercise I do. I usually manage 4 days a week and usually I burn between 500 and 800 calories a time.  If I have more time, and a great book, I do 1000.

Now it's the summer hols, I have decided that I am 100% committed to getting rid of the last 2 stone and I am going to try and manage 1000 calories each day. I am sure there will be days that I can't do this, but so far so good.

To give you an idea, 1000 calories takes me 1 hour 20 minutes on the treadmill at level 18 doing random hills at 5.3kph (or a brisk walk).

I have a good book on my iPad and prop it on the screen of the treadmill and plug my ears with foam to deaden the ghastly boom boom thump of the power music on the sound system that all gyms seem to think we all want to listen to, when in reality everyone has their own ears plugged with their own music on their iPod.

I can be completely engrossed and I get a kick out of knowing that 2 meals are being walked away under my feet. It also means that I can enjoy about 2300 calories a day and STILL lose 2 pounds a week! How awesome is that. I just don't feel like I am on a diet. In fact, I guess I am not. I can pretty much eat anything I darn well please and get a smile back from the scales each morning.
For instance yesterday I had a big bowl of granola for brekkie, tuna mayo sarnie for lunch and as I couldn't be bothered to cook a meal, we just settled for Bacon, Lettuce and Tomato (with butter!)sarnies for tea, a big back of Thai chilli crisps and 3 Gin and Tonics and I was STILL under my cals for the day! Like... who wouldn't love that??  

So there we go. My 2 challenges.

Happy summer everyone!

Absent friends

As is usual when I don't post for a long time, I have normally fallen off of the waggon, gone back to bad habits, drunk too much wine and had too much life than is necessarily for my 'inner big girl' fighting to get back out.

However I didn't fall off the waggon into a pit of donuts... but I did actually fall. Before Easter.

I tripped up, then tripped over my feet which were stumbling to gain purchase on the pot holed main road that runs through our village and fell smack hard down on the pavement.

It resulted in an immense amount of pain, loss of skin and savage weeping that could not be covered.

There was absolutely no skin on the the whole of the underneath of my knee, it was constantly weeping too. I covered it with plasters, but they fell off because they soaked through, so I went to the doctors where they gave me these mad dressings that were made of a rubbery material...

But as you can see by the towel underneath my leg and the vague right hand ooze shot - this bandage could not contain the beast either. The bandage - called a hydrocoloid dressing - is supposed to be permeable and the oozy stuff is supposed to bubble up like a blister beneath it and gradually get absorbed by the dressing and evaporate... Well mine was so epic that it just burst and soaked me in my sleep. We left it till morning with a towel under my leg... but basically it was back to the top photo where I attached some cotton wool underneath as a drip tray.

After leaving it open to the air, a crust formed across the lavarous wound... this would crack and kill me all over again on a minute by minute basis with each step or movement.

The above is after 3 weeks. Yes 3 WEEKS! I don't take to healing very well having lupus and all kinds of other crap, so its always a waiting game. The above shows the crust on top trying to form me a new knee cap... I was quite worried about in growing hairs or something like that. I know that's funny, but I really was! haha!

But after 5 long weeks, the savagery had subsided and new skin was formed over the hole...

5 weeks of hobbling and cursing brought me to this... still extremely painful to bend my knee and walk about, but much better. The purple part is scar and the scabby bit is the deepest part of the wound.

I hadn't needed to worry about ingrowing hair as the hairs here fell out of the follicles and even today 8 weeks on, there is no hair growth in the scar at all. At least I gave myself a bit of free hair removal - although I wont be recommending it as an alternative. I think electrolysis would be far less painful!

Now, I am left with a purple version of the above and a numb, hairless knee. The achey pain has gone too and I dont 'feel' my knee all the time as some alien waiting to escape so it must be healed. 8 weeks was a long time for such a silly little stumble.

Why have i told you about the above... well 8 weeks injury meant 8 weeks out of action at the gym... What do you think might have been the result of sitting on my butt, feeling yukky, sorry for myself, in pain, not doing any exercise a year ago?

Weight gain. And a lot of it!

What did it result in this time?

Weight MAINTENANCE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yes! What a result!

I kept within my limits, but I did indulge my sadness and poorlyness. I just played poker with food. I played them all off against each other and managed to get through what could have been a diet disaster ditch, and instead climbed up higher that my wildest dreams.

I have realised that this last year 1st May 2012 to 1st May 2013 I have accomplished what I never ever ever thought was possible:

Control

And I have aced that class!!

In the last year I have lost 25 KILOS

 

25 KILOS - 55LBS - 4 STONE

LOST

I am exceptionally proud of myself, because I did it ALL BY MYSELF!

So for the last 10 days, I have been going back to the gym. I started with 3 minutes gentle walking, then upped it to a bit faster and longer. Then gradually I have built back up to hills and fast walking at lvl 13 yesterday for 70 minutes and I am fine.

Today I am off to have a go at lvl 13 random hill for 90 minutes :) 1000 calorie burn is back baby!!

Past bite

I have been pushed into a hurricane of emotional carnage today because people are so thoughtless.

A friend of a friend added me on facebook today.

Let me set the background. My privacy settings are on lockdown as I don't like people looking me up like for example:  'Jane Smith used to go to playschool with you in 1979 and wants to add you as a freind' or 'Bob Builder liked the look of your legs when you were 14 so thought he would add you'.

In my opinion most of those adds are just nosiness or fakery to see how bad (hopefully) you are doing in life and how fat you got. I prefer to add people I know, see, trust and love. I share things with them that are the real me and I am happy to do so, even though I know a lot of people would not even do that.

It has irked me somewhat that you cannot stop friends of friends adding you, even if your name is unsearchable, but I have always been pretty sure that none of my friends friends are a particular issue - lets face, I know them not their friends! I just thought it would be quite nice if you could customise your settings to only have direct contact with people of your choosing... but that's not social networking is it... there has to be a catch somewhere.

So I happily share my life and times with my friends - not many - and a couple of colleagues and life goes by.

Until today. The world is a small place after all.

A friend of a friend clicked the little plus button and put my world into a horrible horrible place.

There was his face (aged badly I was quick to note!) and the faces of 3 children.

No message, no intro, no sorry I was a bastard, no nothing.

It's made me feel so shit it's unreal. I haven't got out of bed until now (2pm) and I should have gone and got my son, who's working with DH in the shop today, but I haven't been able to.

I am hovering under the surface of a vast pile of misery that I can't even spill out onto my dearest love in the world because no one, not one person, can understand how I feel. Except perhaps him - he wouldn't understand, but he would certainly know why I feel so bad.

Here's the dirt, not all, but an overview as its too gruesome to get everything out:

I was 16 when I met 'him'. He was an ugly spotty 16 year old. But he was different. I could have had any boy in our group but he had this suave way of carrying himself. A smooth talker, a liar and a massager of massive truths building a little castle for himself. He was an accomplished thief even by this time, and devastatingly persuasive. Dressed like a preppy rich kid, he interested me. In a little over 18 months he managed to break me in a way no one ever will again.

I watch these dramas on TV about housebeaten wives; simpering and tragically humble and weepy. That's not what it's like. I was powerful too, but not in the right way. I could answer back for myself, and did! I fought back, had the opportunity to walk away countless times and had the full support of my family - they begged me to dump him! But I couldn't. It's like a role. It's not you. It's an avalanche that has to reach the bottom. It's not what you want but you have no idea on earth how to stop it until someone comes along with the key to your personal dungeon.

Because no one knows where the lock is, not even you, let alone the key! You are powerless until that lock is found by that key, or you die.

I had been beaten, my leg smashed with a crowbar, stabbed with scissors, my emotions played like a harp, been on the receiving end of endless mind games, left in dangerous situations, humiliated in front of my friends, degraded in ways I won't share and so worn down that I was a valueless, snapped little girl.

He had cleared and weeded out my real friends and replaced them with his own - 'our friends' - so I was alone with a whole host of people around me; none knew me, or I them. they were party people who we hung around all the time, but were not really personal friends. After time, I knew absolutely that there was no one who would want me. There was no one who would ever think I was intelligent, or pretty, or useful, or fun ever again. I'd got above myself and he made sure that he told me how wrong I was. I was dumb, stupid, ugly, wore the wrong clothes, had the wrong type of blonde hair, was getting fat, didn't have enough money for him and couldn't get any more credit cards for him to use for me to pay off and I had stopped funding his drug habit and wouldn't be a stooge when he was nicking stuff.

But the worst crime he ever inflicted on me was getting me pregnant and laughing at me because my life was over.

That is a scar that has never, and never will be healed. I terminated the baby. I killed it. I can't think of it any other way even now, when I know from losing my subsequent 6 craved for babies to early miscarriage and still birth through Lupus that the little mite probably was doomed to begin with.

He told me to get rid of it, if I didn't I could forget him being around. He told me to go home and tell my parents and he would tell his. I thought that this was a good idea as then we were both facing it together, but he never told his parents. He left me to do it on my own. My Mum told his parents in the end as she said that he should pay for half the operation. She wanted it done quickly and privately off my medical records.

He didn't really need to be so horrible and aggressive about me terminating our baby because somewhere deep in me I knew that if I had that baby, even gave it away, that he and I would be tied to each other forever, and I couldn't let that happen to an innocent life. Mine was already a nightmare and I wasn't about to give him any one else to hurt.

All through the relationship - which is what it was, even God and Satan have a relationship - he would say the right things, smooth me over and make me fit for public, be kind in ways that were so numbing - flowers, jackets, dresses, shoes, rings, earrings, toys, champagne, love letters EVERY DAY, mix tapes, romantic dinners and get aways. He managed all this and was only 19 when we broke up!

It's practically impossible to believe it even happened to me!

One day, he made a mistake though. He'd done a good job on me and I was pretty resigned to the fact that I had made my bed - and it was flea infested - but was prepared to lie down in it, when we had a huge row.

It was the summer when Oasis and Blur were battling for #1.

Showing us for the stupid kids that we were, I wanted Country House by Blur to win as I thought it was just the best song ever created. He wanted Oasis. I can't remember the title of that song, but he wanted it to get the #1 spot. We were half drunk on tequilla sitting in a field in next to our tent on the sussex coast, smoking and sunning ourselves. The atmosphere was relaxed, the radio was blaring. My brother and his mate were down the beach and we had the place to ourselves. On moments like that - of which there were many - I felt lovely and happy and at peace. A friend of mine was supposed to be coming over that afternoon to chill with us and it was all good.

Blur won the #1 spot.

He went MAD at me. It was of course my fault - disgracing him by dancing around half naked (bikini) in a field and he belted me across the ear. My ear sang like a gun had gone off, I am guessing he nearly broke my ear drum, and the blistering pain bubbled up so much I couldn't speak.

He was on top of me, spitting in my face that I was a f'ing slag acting like that and that his ex girlfriend would never go on like that. She was so much better than me. Why was he still here. He was going off to get a proper shag. I could sit here and baby sit the kids (my bro and his mate) and think about how I hurt him every day and how if I wanted to be with him I needed to grow up.

He kicked me in the back and left. He had borrowed his mates car to get to the camp site, did not have a driving licence or insurance (obviously) and was intoxicated.

I was left in agony in a field without transport, money (in the car!), and therefore access to food or a payphone.

I opened up and cried myself to sleep in the tent waiting for my brother to come back. I had forgotten that my friend from work was supposed to be coming over.

At about 4ish I heard a car and was instantly getting myself together ready to apologise and win him over and when I came out it was my friend from work. He had brought some home made pizza and some chicken to BBQ, beer, wine and fags!

He saw my dishevelled state and was an instant balm. I told him most of what happened, leaving out the punches, slaps and spitting and that he might be back soon, but I didn't think so.

I didn't believe he was going back to his ex girlfriend's - they had broken up 2 years before and it was a schoolkid thing. It was just something he said to make me jealous, which in fact it never did because I didn't think this girl existed anyway - none of his Friend's remembered him having a girl before me... so....

I actually thought, and was correct, that he went to his mates who he'd borrowed the car from, got high and then passed out for a couple of days.

So. Me, my friend from work and 2 hungry teenage boys spent the night in the tent. My bro and his mate went to bed and my friend and I chatted for ages and ages. The following morning we went to the beach, my friend phoned in sick so I wasn't alone and we had a blast. We went driving and doing handbrake donuts on top of a hill, we picked up a hitchhiker at 3am who was an archaeologist excavating a prehistoric human find and had a fascinating woodland picnic with him in the moonlight showing us around the site.

That night my friend told me that he was deeply worried for my safety and asked why I would stay with someone like that.

I said it was because no one else would want me. He said, he did.

He found the lock. He had the key. It unlocked my hope.

The following morning we went to the phone box, he rang his girlfriend and told her it was over. It had been on and off for a while while they were at Uni, and he hadn't seen her for about a month but he said it was only fair to tell her immediately. He didn't want me thinking he had kept something from me.

Then I dialled 'His' number and I left a message with his Mum, because he refused to talk to me, that he and I were through. She was very very upset.

The next few days were an absolute whirlwind. I was showered by the creep with flowers and mix tapes of unending love, then spiteful late night phone calls calling me every name under the sun, then begging messages (my mum bought an answer phone because of it) pleading to take him back.

I was still just barely clinging on to my college course, so had to bump into all 'our friends' and try and avoid him. I stayed late in class as he was outside waiting for it to end - stuff like that.

In the end I bagged every bit of stuff that he had ever given to me - even flowers that I had dried that he'd given me - in dustbin liners and Mum and I drove them round to his house. There was no one home, so I found the key to the garage in the usual place, unlocked it and dumped it all inside. I then popped a note through his door telling him he was welcome to it all and I never wanted to see him ever again.

I quit my college- it was hardly worth the sham of attending any more. He had put paid to my education so well that I needed to start over any how.

Over my 2 years at college, I had done 8 A level courses.
I started the first year doing Physics, Chemistry, Biology and Maths. Yes I really did. I quit at the end of the year as I had missed so much work because of 'Him' and his dramas that I decided to start over.
The next year I did History, Film Studies, History or Art and Art. I dropped this a week into my second year when I dropped the bags off at his house.

Nowadays that would count for 4 full A levels, but then it was worth nothing. He ruined my 2 year window of opportunity. I did later complete courses and things, but all whilst juggling a house, new husband and a little baby.

After the bag dumping we came home in my Mini listening to the Foo Fighters.

Big Me is the song of the break up. You would think it would be Country House, but I can still listen and enjoy that song. Big Me is the one that cracks me, that opens those jaws again and everything I lost in that 2 years.

He took my friends
He took my innocence
He took my trust of men
He took my education
He took my first baby

All of those things he took from me. And more.

I can't begin to list all the horrible things. All the little snippets like news paper clippings running through my mind. They are far to vast to catalogue.

Then today the supposedly innocuous website Facebook, has brought so many bitter questions up that have probably brewed there for years, but just hadn't fully formed in my mind.

I've told you what happened, but the emotional pain is not raw because of that. The past affects me sometimes when particular dates roll by. November 30th 1994 in my diary reads:

Went in for my little operation. Unfortunately had to be alone. Mum and 'Him' in waiting room - I was so frightened. 'Him' bought (stole) me 5 CD's. Bjork, Lemonheads, Pearl Jam and 2 others. He had to work this evening so coming over tomorrow. I love him

He did sit in the waiting room, I guess I can give him that, but he didn't even bother to take the evening off to comfort his girlfriend on the murder of their child.

It was the worst experience of my entire life. I was spared the NHS as my mother paid for a private 'purging'. However a ward in Brighton, full of tired hard prostitutes on their 5th or 6th ridding, talking about their punters across your bed holds a deadly sickening and kidney splitting shame.

When I looked at his profile picture, little girl of about 7 sitting on his knee with a boy of about 4 and one of  about 2 playing at his heels a vivid blast of coming-around in the recovery room staring at a prostitute's tattooed arse flashed into my mind. Sickness, anger, hate and deep sadness.

Did he think of me when he was trying to get his wife with child? Did he think of the one he killed when his wife told him she was pregnant? Did he wonder if it would live throughout the pregnancy? Did he feel like he didn't deserve to be given a child after what he did? Does his wife know that he killed one of her kids brothers or sisters? Do other people who've gone through this think about this shit?

No, I doubt it. He's got 3 beautiful children. He's married to his ex girlfriend - the one I thought was imaginary.

Gravida 8 Para 1. That's my story. I have 8 children, of which 7 are dead.

I feel like he added me on facebook to torture me. Rational me would be like "Nah, he's just nosey and wondering if you got fat like everyone else" But I feel like he's done it to show me what he's got. Fuck! It's 18 years ago. Why should I care? Why is this so bloody and raw?

I bet he doesn't even remember the date. Over the years I have gradually forgotten the date, but for some reason I wake up feeling low and tearful and my husband, god bless him, will say "Yeah, it's your sad day". I had found peace, to a certain degree, in knowing that Lupus took all my babies, and it would have been the same for that little one had it gone on a week or two more... but all the same. I still had to go through the trauma of his abuse and threats to leave me if I didn't sort it. Telling my parents and ruining their image and dreams of me that will forever be etched on their minds. Going to that awful place where the doctor that signs you off afterwards gives you a brown package and says

"Pee in this in 2 weeks and send it in for testing"

and you say "What?!?!? After all that I could still be pregnant"

and he said "It happens. Goodbye, I hope to never see you again in my entire life".  

 LITERALLY.

That speech is etched on my mind. I can see his office, feel and smell his minty breath on my face and hear the heating fan in the background. See the rubber plant and the books. I can see myself walking out of there numb. Shock.

I want to accept it. I want to click "yes, I'll be your friend" and devour his pictures and see what his life is like now because there is no way it can be as good as mine is now. I want to shove it to him so he can see what he abused and threw away like rubbish, how well I have done despite his efforts.

But...

I clicked block instead.

Even though you think no ones connected, we all are in little tiny threads of ways. I know which friend he knows, A distant old friend from school. It would seem they work together at a Food Superstore. I got rid of them too, just in case. They won't notice I have dropped off their feed as they are one of the many with too many threads - an impossible 1000+ friends.

It just shows me how little we look at things, I hadn't checked their profile for years probably, and he's now working on the fish counter and delicatessen of the same food store as 'Him'. If I had checked, it might have rung an alarm bell or two as that's where he worked as a teenager. That's where he is still working. That actually made me quite happy :)

The big dreamer is still having to dream, but it was always within me to realise mine.

I might have to entirely re-think being on facebook. But then again, it would be such a shame if he's ruined that too.

What a dilemma.