A lot has happened since I last sat down and wrote this blog.
I have no idea how I have managed to leave it so long between posting. Every day I have thought about writing, but somehow I just haven’t found the time, or even the words.
In the past six months I have uprooted my life and moved to my first capital city, dragging my stuff all the way to sunny Cardiff to become a political reporter.
It’s been really hard. Taking this job meant leaving behind my best friends, long term boyfriend, moving hours away from my family, selling my lovely flat, oh and pretty much physically removing myself from my reliance on my surgeon.
Six months later I still feel a little bit out on a limb…my doctor knows nothing about me, and my English NHS GP seems to like re-reading my endless notes that he is simply clinging on to them for dear life! I’m that interesting!
Because you will not be seeing pictures of our adventures across the globe and UK anymore I probably need to admit that me and Andy broke up. While I like to keep this blog as honest as possible I would rather not dwell on the reasons too much – needless to say though that a five hour train journey didn’t help.
It’s weird not being with him anymore, not just because he put up with all the illness drama and helped me through two operations, but because he was one of my best friends.
But while it might sound harsh to put just a few lines for three and a half years I’m trying to keep positive and healthy, so I need to keep looking forward.
The reality is I’m now (for the first time in forever) totally self reliant, healthy, and in a brand new city – it’s taking most of my energy just to keep my head above water.
I’m exercising a lot, and I mean a lot, I’m taking on my first half marathon since my surgery, and I’m excited to see what I can do now I’m well.
I’m working as many hours as possible without going insane, and I’m throwing myself off cliffs with the Tourism Minister…I’m also possibly drinking a little bit too much and watching a lot of crap USA girly tv shows on Netflix.
But for the first time since my operation I’m having to put myself out there into the scary single world, and you know what it’s not that frightening – that might be because I’m drinking a fair amount of gin.
In my time writing this blog I’ve had a few emails about love and well, sex, with an ostomy. I’ve only ever done one blog on it, because frankly there are a lot of people who read this that I couldn’t look in the eye ever again.
While many of you (knowing my blatant honesty on this blog) might think this blog will suddenly become a ‘no holds barred’ single girl’s account of living with an ostomy, I’m sorry to disappoint but some things are better kept private.
All I will say is there is no way i’m ‘Too Ugly for Love’ and that I’m happy.
I’m more confident than I thought I would be, I like myself more than I thought I would, and I’m reinventing myself into someone I feel comfortable living with one step at a time.
I’ve never really had a problem with my stoma, apart from when it does weird and wonderful things at the most embarrassing of times (interviewing the Prime Minister for example). But I have to say I have always wondered what I would say if I was ever single, is it better to tell someone or simply let them find out for themselves.
But I’ve learnt that at the end of the day if I am comfortable about my bag, no one else is really bothered, and well if they were they frankly wouldn’t be worth the effort.
Anyhow, enough said. I know my parents, colleagues and well others read this blog, so I won’t go into any more detail.
I hope you are all well, and if you are single or if you are in love I hope you feel comfortable in your own skin, because if you’ve had permanent surgery like me then we don’t have any other option…my ostomy saved my life and if someone can’t cope with it, well then they are not good enough for me.