Verbal Diarrhea

Hey guys,

I apologise for the fact it's been so long since my last update
Things have been more than just a little bit manic here, and I've got so much racing through my head lately that I've been having a really hard time sitting down and trying to write without it becoming a horrible, incomprehensible, rambling mess which makes no sense whatsoever.
So! I decided to ramble to a camera instead.

Love and Sunshine,

Serenity
xx

Sticky Date Pudding

Yes.

Yes that title is horrendously innuendo laden.

I've always been a terrible sleeper.

I am much more of a night owl than a morning person, and I find it extremely hard to get up in the morning.

This isn't due to lack of routine or sheer laziness. I just genuinely cannot seem to function properly before 11am.

I could go to bed early, with the best intentions of getting a good nights sleep, but chances are I won't get to sleep before 2am.

The fact that I am enduring horrible night sweats and hot flashes during disgustingly muggy nights only increases the discomfort levels, and in turn, my ability to get a decent nights sleep.

I've tried sleeping in the nude, with cold wheat packs, with the window open, with nothing but a sheet, limbs hanging out of the side of the bed, flipping pillows, cool flannels.

It doesn't matter... I still wake up hot, bothered and with a sticky date.

(Mmmm, sweaty butt. Aren't I just the epitome of beautiful?)

I've started to notice that lately, around two in the afternoon, I just crash - the joint aches and back pain will increase and I feel exhausted.

Of course I push on and try to fight it off, thinking that, surely if I am this tired now, by the time I go to bed, I will be absolutely shattered, then HEY, PRESTO. Decent sleep.

Ah.

No.

It totally doesn't work that way and it is beyond frustrating.

I genuinely cannot remember the last time I had a good nights sleep.

In other news, I finally found those BGP's I keep talking about, and finally put them on and laid a complaint against the incompetent muppet of a doctor I have had the pleasure of dealing with on more occassions than I would like.

I heard back from the Health and Disabilities Commission (where I laid the complaint) and was told they were currently investigating my claims and that I could anticipate hearing back from them in approximately six weeks.

In approximately six weeks, I will also be sitting down with my specialist, discussing where to from here.

If that's not the discussion that is had. Then consider yourselves warned when I say all hell will break loose.

I want my life back.

So badly.

Today was ROUND FIVE of my Zoladex, and I am currently sitting here feeling very sorry for myself, with a puncture wound in my belly and a headache that would knock ol' Cassius Clay for six, but I have turned the brightness of my screen right down, sitting in darkness and silence and enlightening you all with my tales of woe.

Don't you feel special?

The fundraising hasn't taken off quite as much as I would've hoped, but I'm hoping that with your help, we can reach my target.

So, please, if you're able to, make a donation... If you can't (in fact, even if you can) please post this link on your blog, Facebook page... Whatever means of social media you prefer. Just please, don't make me get on all fours and beg for it.

My Give a Little page: Lipstick, Ink and Disease in the Pink... Go... Click now. $1.00, $10.00, $100.00 - It doesn't matter, it all makes a difference 

As always my lovelies,

Love and Sunshine
(not that there's any of that here today in Wellington. Summer? Pfft. Fat chance)

Serenity

xx

*NB: Once upon a time, a long time ago, getting on all fours and begging for it was for recreational purposes.......Yet another thing Endo has taken away from me.

High noon with Endo

Today sucks.

I want today gone.

It is currently 12:27 in the afternoon and I have been attempting to cope with the ferocious pains which have been thrown at me for the past three days.
As I type this I am sitting in a hot bath, in the darkness, listening to classical piano in a desperate bid to rid myself of this horrendous discomfort.

As it stands, I'm not sure which is hotter.
The tears of frustration sliding down my cheeks?
The white hot fury which is coursing through my veins in retaliation to succumbing to this awful disease once again?

The temperature of the water is undeniably hot.
The hot flashes that keep plaguing me certainly don't help.

Is it a combination of all of the above?

Why am I so seemingly incapable of getting a hold of things and coping?
It's certainly not for want of trying.

The Tramadol isn't helping.
The Sevredol isn't helping.
The tri-cyclic antidepressants that they have me on aren't helping.

The heat packs, meditating, diet changes, lifestyle changes, yoga, homeopathy, reiki, acupuncture, regular massage or immersing myself in other activities hasn't helped.

Why does nothing help?

I am sick of putting on the brave face.
I'm even more sick of feeling sorry for myself - and you know that's bad, because I very rarely allow myself to do so.

My hospital bag is packed.
I just have to make the call.
I desperately don't want to.

I don't want another trip to the A&E where they announce it's just another acute exacerbation of my pain, where I will then be taken up to Gynae, only for them to tell me that there's nothing more they can offer me, but that they will endeavor to get me as comfortable as possible.

I get so embarrassed by every trip I make to the front desk of the emergency department, every time I have to re-explain my situation to the triage nurse, the registrar on ED who happens to be lumped with me.
It makes me feel like shit.
I worry they they don't take me seriously because I've been in there so often.
That they think I'm some kind of hypochondriac or attention seeker, or a druggie who wants morphine.

I know I'm none of those aforementioned things.

But, given how calm an exterior I portray, it must be hard for them to believe I am a 10/10 in the pain scale when I am able to carry on a conversation, with only a wince every now and then.
I refuse to play the role of the screaming damsel in distress - I've played that role before. It does nobody any good.

I really don't want to have to become Growly Ren and start demanding they do something constructive, because I don't feel as though I should have to - if I'm in there regularly (almost routinely) with the same issues, only heightened, then surely they should be putting their large student debts to use and realize that there is an issue at hand which needs addressing, and that the means by which they've been addressing them needs to be reviewed because clearly they aren't doing the business like they're supposed to!

Aaaand *breeeaaath*

I know what I need to do, so I shall leave this here and put my BGPs (Big Girl Panties) on and go do it.

Ugh.

 

Posted with Blogsy

Whoa Nelly...

I can't say I am particularly fond of Nelly... And not "I'm like a bird" Nelly.

I'm talking about pants-down-around-his-arse-bandaid-on-his-cheek-do-rag Nelly.

But, never before have I been able to relate to such eloquently written Hip-Hop songs. Until now.

It's getting hot in here (so hot) so take off all your clothes

I am, getting so hot, I wanna take my clothes off

It's getting hot in here (so hot) so take off all your clothes

I am, getting so hot, I wanna take my clothes off

 Uh, uh, uh, let it hang all out

(And good gracious, my arse is more than just a little bit bodacious, even if I do say so myself)

I would never have regarded him as a lyrical genius before, but nowadays, I swear on Ryan Goslings abs - A chorus has never resonated with me so much.

Now. Lets just clarify. I'm not a sweaty person.

I've never had issues with excessive, or even noteable, for that matter, perspiration.

No.

I'm a lady.

I don't sweat.

I glisten.

These days, however, the sweat is pouring off me. I feel disgusting. I feel like a Swamp Monster of some description.
I just seem to sweat like a whore in church... All. The. Time.

I live out the vast majority of my days swanning around topless and in shorts because I cannot handle the feeling of shirts clinging to me. It's unbearable.
Even just having that little bit of fabric from my bra strap clinging to my back is more than I can stand - But, because I want to maintain at least some level of dignity (as well as sparing the eyesight of those around me), I leave my bra on.

I was warned of the possibilty of night sweats, and I have suffered from them in a minor capacity, but I was not prepared for that consistent presence of this awful sticky feeling.

Now, whenever I have a hot flash, it's accompanied by a sweat goatee, a glistening forehead and those delightful beads of perspiration that run down your spine and down your cleavage.
I'm now more determined than ever to lose weight, as I am sick of drying sweat from the cracks and crevices of my womanly shape - This is the one time I would actually gladly consider taking on a waif like appearance.

Nothing more attractive than zebra stripes on your shirt, caused by the shirt itself being folded under your boobs.

So, if you'll excuse me. I must go take my third cold shower today, change into my fourth shirt of the day, wipe down the couch and lay down a towel and turn the air-con onto the 'Arctic' setting.

Menopause.


Sure is glamorous.

Consider this a warning

In particular, these are the ones I've been accosted with:

You're just lazy and want people to feel sorry for you

Maybe if you lost weight/tried this/tried that/had a better attitude

Other people have it a lot harder than you

Man up

I work really hard and pay taxes so people like you can sit on your arse all day.

It's not always what you say, but how you say it and the way you act when you say it.

I don't want to spend so much time in hospital

I don't want to be on a government benefit

I don't want to be incapacitated and unable to do things

I didn't ask for this to be the way my life is

I cope with it the best way I know how to.

Posted with Blogsy

Food, glorious food.

It's no secret that I am obsessed with food.
Seriously.

I love cooking and I especially love eating.

A few things I absolutely cannot seem to live without these days:

• Crispy M&M's... The jumbo share bags. And let's be honest here, I never actually intend on sharing them.
• Ready salted chips and gherkin relish dip.

• Poached eggs on english muffins (or full blown Eggs Benedict if I have the fixings)

• A nice glass of white wine - Tipple of the moment is Giesen Riesling. Mmmm.

Some might argue that wine isn't a food.
Well, technically, it's not - But it's made from grapes, which is a food... And therefore I rest my case.
(And if you still want to argue the toss, be prepared for a throw down)

With the weather being as hot and stuffy as it has been (coupled with my hot flashes), I have found myself with less of an appetite (and more of a drinking habit).

The other night, I rediscoved my love for the Almighty Salad.

When I make something like a salad for dinner, it's never just a few leafy greens and a bit of dressing - Oh no. I could feed small tribes with my dinner salads.

The other night, I made this delightful wee dish:

Now, asides from setting my mouth and sphincter on fire - due to fancying myself a bit of a Rachel Ray and eyeballing my cayenne pepper dosage-  she was a mighty fine meal.

In the last 4 months, I've been dabbling in the whole 'Clean Eating' buzz. It's not that it's hard, but it's so much easier to continue doing what I've always done. But I've made it a goal to eat clean at least four times a week.
Slow and steady win the race, right?
It's not all in relation to me wanting to lose weight, but more to do with making better choices.

Anyhow, this is my:

Thai Inspired Orange and Coconut Chicken Salad

2 large chicken breasts (or 500gm chicken tenderloins)

2-3 oranges

100gm raw cashews

1 bunch spring onion

1 red capsicum

250-300gm bag of baby spinach 

1 head of broccoli

Fish sauce

Coconut milk

Cayenne pepper

Brown Sugar

 

1: If using chicken breasts, cut to 1-2cm thick slices. Place slices (or tenderloins if that's what you're using) into a large bowl or dish suitable for marinating. In a jar or a jug, combine 1/4 cup coconut milk with 2TBspn fish sauce, 1-2tspn cayenne (depending on how hot you like it). Pour combined mixture over the chicken pieces, cover in cling wrap and refrigerate for a minimum of 30 minutes (the longer your marinate, the better). 

2: Lightly toast cashews in a non stick pan on medium heat - Keep a close eye on them and shake pan frequently to reduce risk of burning them too much. You just want them to be slightly blackened. Pop to one side.   

3: Pull the chicken from the fridge, and place slices/tenderloins on a grill tray/rack and grill until cooked through, turning each piece midway through. (You could also pan-fry them using a tiny amount of EVOO).

4: While chicken is cooking, lightly steam your broccoli, slice up your capsicum, spring onion and one of the oranges. Toss that all into a bowl, along with the bag of spinach and the toasted cashews. Once chicken is cooked, place that on top of everything else.

To make a dressing, in a jug combine:

Juice from one orange

4 TBspn Coconut milk

1 TBspn Fish sauce

2TBspn Brown sugar

1-2 tspn Cayenne (depending on tastes)

Stir briskly and pour over salad.

SO. DAMN. TASTY

I do hope you enoy this as much as I do, it's really bloody easy, looks great on the plate and is REALLY good for you whilst being extremely filling.

Righto, well... I have a glass of wine to pour, sorrows to drown, eggs to poach and muffins to toast.

Clearly tonight is *not* a clean eating night, and frankly I'm too tired and too busy to give a toss.

I have the Weenie as of tomorrow afternoon, so normal meals shall commence then.

Who knows, we might even do some baking together... God knows how much I love sharing in this:

It's also been a while since I last ate raw cookie dough

Love and Sunshine,

Serenity

xx 

Give a little (or a lot) to Endometriosis New Zealand

As always,

Love and Sunshine,


Serenity
xx