Battling my Mental Health

I’m currently sitting here, typing, whilst crying. I’m having a low day. I’ve been meaning to write a post like this for while, after it was suggested to me to do one. I just haven’t had the opportunity. I thought I’d write it now, whilst I’m feeling the way I am so I can tell you exactly how I feel on a low day. I’m doing this because I think not only that it might help others (I’ll mention ways I’ve coped with it in the past), it might help me at this current stage.

So, here we go. Where do I begin? haha. That’s one of things that happens when I’m low, I suppose. I get confused. I don’t know where to start when it comes to any issues I’m having. You know when your earphones get tangled up in your pocket? That’s what my head feels like at the moment. Like every thought is just tangled up into one ball of wires or something. It hurts. Emotionally, it hurts. I feel both sad and angry at the same time but I can’t pin point why.

I’ve slowly been feeling like this over the last few days. I’ve felt it building up, but I just can’t stop it. The lowness takes over like a black cloud slowly moving and hovering over me. I try to convince myself that everything’s fine. Everything’s working out. I’m starting to have job interviews, I’ve found a new hobby that I enjoy, etc. Everything is looking up. But apparently it’s not. The way I tell myself that I am okay is actually quite strange and varies. One of these ways, is by posting regularly on social media. Now, you’re probably confused and thinking, everyone posts on social media – why is that strange? For me, I get a bit obsessed, I suppose. Especially with snapchat. You see, I’ve got many friends on snapchat and I like to feel that I’m not lonely. It sounds sad, I know. But my way of not feeling the loneliness that comes with the lowness is by posting almost constantly on snapchat. That way I feel that people are seeing my snaps, and getting involved by seeing them or laughing at them (I like to post amusing snaps when I can) and sometimes people will message me about them.

You’re probably wondering 1) that’s not really strange or anything – it’s my snapchat I can post whatever I want to my story, and I can post how many times I want. And 2) if I’m feeling lonely, why don’t I message a friend?

Now, I’ve always been like this but I cant get out of it. I’ve got many people I can talk to. I know that. And I appreciate that. I’m just worried that if I focus on just one person and constantly go to them with my problems – I’m going to annoy them. So if I’m feeling down or lonely, I’ll keep it to myself or if I did want to talk to someone but not go to someone directly, I might put a message on my snapchat or other social media along the lines of “someone talk”.

Some people might look at that as attention-seeking. I don’t see it as attention-seeking. I’m just asking for a bit of help. I don’t like doing it, but sometimes it feels like my only option. (I know there’s better options but in the moment, that’s the only option)

Another thing I’m thinking at the moment, is that my life isn’t going anywhere. I’ve been applying for jobs but not hearing back. I’ve spent so long spending time at home. I’m lonely, I’m bored. And I really don’t know what to do. I have a career goal. I’ve had the same career goal for years now. I just can’t get on that ladder.

I’m also a bit scared for my future. I worry that if I did get a job, will I be able to cope? Will my condition effect me in the workplace? Will I have the confidence to meet and talk to others? But also with situations not to do with working. Like, how will my condition effect me in the future? Will I ever settle down with someone? It’s kind of scary not knowing what the future holds anyway, but come to think of it, even now I’m going about my life taking it day by day. Who knows what could happen. My condition could worsen in 24hrs. I don’t know what my life will be like in an hour. Never mind my future. I’m scared of what might come. Throughout the last 21 years of my life there’s been highs and lows. At this moment, I can only see the lows.

HOWEVER! As I’ve been typing this out, I’ve been thinking … hang on … no I am okay. I’ve just re-read it all back. Things aren’t as bad as I keep thinking they are.

You see, to start with I mentioned my new hobby and the job interviews I’ve been having. That’s two positives right there! That shows that I am moving upwards in the world. They’re small, normal things but they’re giant leaps for me. The new hobby, baking, is an incredible move upwards for me. I was scared of food 4/5 years ago. I couldn’t look at a piece of toast with feeling anxious and sick. I’m now baking. I’m creating and enjoying food!! And with the job interviews, It’s only recently I’ve started having them. The fact that my application, my CV is being noticed. And I’m being shortlisted. That’s incredible! I will get something someday! But it will happen at the right time! I’m also having driving lessons. And they’re going really well! That’s something else that’s really positive!

And with the constant social media posts, I’m not posting every minute haha! It’s a few snaps a day. I’m letting people into my life. I’m giving people insight. I’m sharing my story. Social Media is a wonderful thing! Why my make the most of it? I’m not posting anything harmful or rude. I’m sharing happy posts, and occasionally asking for a friend to talk to! Social media is for connecting with people! Why should I be worried about how many times I post? And what I post?

With regards to feeling lonely at home. There’s nothing really much I can do at the moment. Unfortunately I’m at the age where I have friends of similar age of me who are working. And so meeting up is quite hard. But again, I have social media. I have texting. You know, I can contact people in other ways. I don’t need to have them around me physically. I can talk and have a laugh with them online.

When it comes to my future, excuse my language, but who the fuck knows what their future will hold? No one knows for certain. So why worry about it? I’m stable at the moment. I’m not limited in what I can do. I shouldn’t sit a fret about what’s to expect. I should focus on now. What I’ve got and what I can do.

Because actually….. I’m in a good place right now.

Ideas

This is a quick post to ask for suggestions about what you, as a reader, would be interested in reading about on this blog.

Unless something significant happens in my life, I don’t really have much to say currently. I could carry on with my story but the next part is the big chunky bit about the year 2013 when a lot happened with regards to having many many operations and my life changing. But ideally I’d like to start that in January – as that would mark 6 years.

Is there anything you’d like to know about me, anything you think you would be interested in finding out about me and my story? Maybe there’s some advice you think I could give?

Let me know by commenting on this or, as I will be sharing on social media, on any of my social media platforms.

Thank you,

Katie x

6 years continued + update on recent events

Hi! I know we’re in the middle of October now, well actually near the end, but I thought I’d complete the “6 years continued” story. To be honest there’s not much more to say, but I’ll tell you what happened the days leading up to me being discharged and what happened after I was discharged. (If you need a reminder of what’s happened up to this point, please check out my previous blog posts with “6 years continued” in the title)

As well as this, I will be updating you on recent events in my life. Quite significant things. To me anyway.

So, last time I mentioned the x-ray I had, the conclusion the doctors came to from seeing my notes, and briefly mentioned the picc line I had inserted.

Because, by that point, I could hardly eat anything – my new consultant believed a picc line would be most useful for me to have. If you don’t know what a picc line is, it’s basically a long tube that goes through a vein in, normally, your arm, to your heart. Or near your heart. It is a form of nutrition. But obviously, only used when people are seriously unwell.

Having this meant I didn’t have to worry about the fact I couldn’t eat and so was loosing a lot of weight and nutrients. This would help build me up whilst I was in hospital. At this stage I also had an NG tube (a tube that goes up my nose and down into my stomach). Gradually, I started having tube feeds. So a milk-like substance with all the nutrients and vitamins I needed was pumped into my stomach without me having to do anything. Little did I know, this was to become a regular routine of mine. I was at Kings for about 2 or 3 weeks (I can’t remember exactly)

During the last week or so I was just resting really. Understandably I had to, but it was hard because I was away from home. Yes, I had my dad with me. But my mum and brother wasn’t with me. They visited a few times, don’t get me wrong, but it wasn’t the same. I missed Home. I missed my friends. I even missed school.

The time came when my consultant was happy for me to be discharged, from King’s at least. He told us that they do need to operate however I still need to become a bit stronger, so he advised me to keep the picc line and NG tube.

I was then transferred from King’s to my local hospital. I stayed there for a couple of weeks. (I think, it might have been a bit longer) During this time I rested, had my picc line flushed every so often and began having regular tube feeds. And because I was now only about 10/15 minutes away from home, I was able to have many visitors. And Dad was able to go home and have a proper rest (because it was a tiring, stressful time for him too).

It was nice, in a way, but it wasn’t my proper home. I wanted my own bed. I wanted normality. I think at this point, I started to wonder, will ever have normality again?

Eventually I was aloud home for day visits. Haha, sounds like it was prison or something. The reason for this, is because I was having my ‘feeds’ at night. And so, during the day, I was free to do whatever. There was nothing for anyone to do to me during the day. So they decided that I could spend my days at home. And they eventually even said I could go back to school (which, by this point, I was thrilled about!)

I was quite fortunate that my school was sooo understanding and supportive. Me, Dad and mum went for a meeting with the assistant head at the time. We explained what had happened and what is planned to happen. Obviously, I had my tube in, on show, too and they took this into consideration, understanding that ideally I couldn’t be in the busy school corridors at break/lunch times and during lesson changes. They decided that I would be best going to a room called ‘AP’ (Alternative Provision – I think). It’s a room where I could do my lessons, have a teacher come down every so often to talk to me and give me some work to do. That sort of thing. They also decided I should be on short days. So i’d only be in for a few hours a day. This way I wouldn’t tire myself out too much.

So a regular day for me during that time, would be that I would wake up in hospital. I’d get up, be disconnected, go have a wash, get ready etc. Then mum would pick me up and take me to school. I would then stay for a few hours then be picked up and taken home. Then during the evening, I would be taken back to the hospital, get settled in and be connected ready for bed.

Eventually, the staff felt that me and my parents were ready to learn how to set up the pump. You have to be trained up on it. It’s quite simple so me and my parents caught on quite quick. When the staff acknowledged that we all knew what we were doing. We all knew about hygiene etc, I was allowed home permanently! I could have my feed at home. I could sleep in my own bed – yay!

We were all so happy! Finally – after what felt like months and months – normality! To be honest, after this, each day was the same. I’d get up, disconnect myself, get ready, go to school for a few hours and come home. I would then go to bed, in my own bed. That’s it. During my time at school, as well as what I previously said, eventually friends would come in to see me and I would also pluck the courage to go to some of my lessons. I thought – yes I’ve got a tube in my nose, so? It doesn’t bother me anymore. Yes people stared. But I just ignored them. That’s all I could do really.

Anyway, it got to November and, I remember this moment quite well, the post arrived one morning. I had just come back from shopping with a friend. It was addressed to my parents I think. But I knew it was about me, it had Kings college hospital on the envelope. This was it. This was the date of my operation. I opened it. I was right. “Katie has been booked for her operation on Friday 18th January 2013”. I looked at it. I felt a bit of excitement – because I knew that this operation could really help me as I was really ill (although the reality of how ill I was hadn’t hit me properly yet). Then all the nerves came at once. I cried. I was shaking. This felt real. I was having an operation. A big operation. I was going under the knife. I was having my organs moved around. Would I make it? What happens if things go wrong? I was scared. I hugged mum and Dad. Of course, I knew, we all knew, I had to have this surgery. But it’s scary. For all of us, but especially a 15 year old girl with her life ahead of her.

Below is a photo of me with all of my equipment. I think it was taken for an art project. I did a project on medical equipment. I found medical art and that and researched them. I drew a copy of this photo. (I thought it was interesting at the time) Sorry, I look a bit miserable – I don’t know why haha😂

Okay so, nicer things now! I also said in this blog I will mention what I’ve been up to recently. You’ve probably noticed in a couple of my posts, that I’ve mentioned that I’ve struggled with anxiety and depression a bit in the past. I have good and bad days – physically and mentally! However recently, in both ways, I’ve been having many good days. I’ve been feeling positive, confident and quite motivated actually. I’ve challenged myself and taken on things that I would normally hesitate at and avoid.

These things include; going to a job interview and starting driving lessons! It may seem like normal things to many people – but to me. That’s two massive achievements!

Another thing, which I have surprised myself with – is that I’ve started taking up baking as a hobby!

Now, you will find out in detail why I, and my family are quite surprised by this, in future posts but let’s just say, my relationship with food has never been good. I’ve had times in my life when I can’t even be around food. But you’ll find out all about that in due time. So, yeah I absolutely love baking! It makes me happy and it’s a way that helps me show my creative trait.

That is all for now. Sorry it’s been so long! X

Invisible illness: A blessing or a curse?

I realise I haven’t done a blog post in a while. The reason being is that I’ve been wanting to focus on moving on in my life. I’ve been looking for work and just focusing on doing things that a 21 year old would do.

Anyway, I thought I’d make this post about something I’ve been thinking about recently. My ‘invisible’ illness. It’s invisible because no one can see it. I know I have this illness. I know how it effects me. My friends and family know about it too. But they only know from me talking about it. To strangers or just people I don’t really know well, I haven’t got an illness. I’m going to talk about the pros and cons of having an invisible illness.

(Obviously, everyone’s situation is different and I’d just like to say these are my own opinions. It doesn’t mean they’re right and it doesn’t mean they’re wrong either.)

Okay, so pros of an invisible illness (I mean, having an illness isn’t necessarily positive, I’m talking about the invisible aspect of it):

People treat you the same as they would anyone else. (If they don’t know about it)

What I mean by this is that, because people don’t know that you have a chronic illness/disability they don’t ‘tip-toe’ around you. They don’t talk to you in a way that shows they feel sorry for you. And, in a way, aren’t careful with what they say around you thinking you’ll be offended. Don’t get me wrong, there are people out there who treat you the same despite knowing about your illness. But I’ve seen first-hand how people can change after discovering you’ve actually got a chronic condition.

Again, this is my opinion, but I don’t like when people find out about me and assume that they have to be careful of what they say to me. I may be sensitive at times, and it may be hard to tell, but honestly I’m not easily offended. I’ve learnt in life to laugh, a lot, at things that adversity throws at me. If I make a joke about my stomach or something, I want people to laugh along with me. There’s been many times when I’ve made a joke about my stomach and people don’t laugh. They do a little grin and a noise of some sort, but I can tell they feel a bit uncomfortable. They feel like they can’t laugh. Do they think I’m testing them or something? Because I’m not. I encourage my friends and family to laugh along with me. I don’t like when people feel uncomfortable around me. I’m me. Yes I’ve had a few battles. But who hasn’t? I’ve got a few scars, so what? I’m still human. I’m still a 21 year old woman.

You can pretend you don’t have an illness.

This may sound daft but let me explain. There are days where I think that my illness has taken over. Mentally as much as physically. I feel that I’m not Katie, I’m someone who has a chronic illness. That’s not right. I shouldn’t have a label. I don’t like thinking that I’m a person with a disability. I am, but I’m capable of a hell of a lot. There are days where I can almost forget that I’ve got what I’ve got. Focus on other things, like what I’ve been doing recently. Focus on my personality, me as a person. Doing activities that I enjoy doing. It helps that I can hide my illness. My stomach is easily hidden. My symptoms can be easily controlled most days. Despite me occasionally thinking “why me!”, I’m actually quite fortunate given my circumstances. To many people, I’m just a small 5’2 woman with a shy yet distinctive personality. I like that.

Also, I’m not saying you should pretend you don’t have an illness- if you have one – I’m just saying, for me, knowing that I can kind of push the whole aspect of my illness to the side and not let it get in the way of living is very beneficial.

Okay, Cons! If I’m honest, I can only think of one at this current stage. So here we go, cons of having an invisible illness:

No one understands

The biggie. Now I know I said how I like when people treat me as if I haven’t got a disability/illness whatever. I do. But there are days where I feel like crap. One thing that can annoy me/upset me is when I am feeling really sick, tired, I’m in a lot pain and I’m talking to someone. I’m trying to not focus on the symptoms but it’s hard, and that person says “you’re looking well”. Now, you’re probably thinking – but that’s a compliment Katie? They’re only being nice. True. They probably think they’re being nice. And they are, I respond by saying thank you and giving a smile. In no way am I blaming them. This is something I can’t control.

But what I’m saying is, because I can’t physically show that I’m not well, it’s hard to let people know I’m not feeling well. If that makes sense? There are days where I find it hard to talk because of the amount of pain I’m in. People think I’m okay because ‘I look well’. I don’t want to seem like someone who continuously complains about their problems; the amount of pain I’m in, how sick I’m feeling, I just don’t want to be that person. So I tend to keep quiet about it. But sometimes it gets too much and in frustration I will just burst into tears and just let it all out. I don’t want people to think that I’m pretending I’m feeling that way just because I don’t mention it all the time. I feel like if I was that person who constantly said how I was feeling physically everyday, people would see me as someone looking for attention. But if I don’t say anything apart from the days where I am really really sick (which is actually quite rare now) – would people actually believe me? It’s hard.

Can I also just say, In no way am I wanting it to look like I’m feeling sorry for myself here. I’m not. I swear. I’m not that sort of person. I’m just saying things as they are. In my perspective.

I guess here, the pros outweigh the cons. Which, for me, shows that having an invisible illness isn’t so bad.

Finding Katie

Having a bit of a pause with the story of my King’s journey for this blog post. (I’m really sorry – I will continue with that story soon – I’ve been a bit busy recently!)

I want to do a post on mental health. It’s a bit random, but with this blog, there is really no structure. When I go to make a blog post I make one because; I want to and this blog is for me to talk about what I feel like talking about.

I’m treating it like my diary, if you like. My public diary. (Just a heads up, I might randomly go on to something else half-way through the blog haha)

The reason I want to do a blog post on how I’ve been feeling recently is, I guess, because I want people to know what goes on in my head sometimes. I want to let people know that if they are feeling what I’m feeling, then they’re not alone.

I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety a few years ago. I know that a lot of the time they don’t come on through triggers, but I do seem to think that the events of my past have something to do with it. Beginning with my King’s journey (which I will carry on with soon!).

I think this because looking back I was a different person. I think I was anyway. I was very confident (a tad shy at times but the confidence was definitely there!), I had a wicked sense of humour, I was cheeky, I could think straight and most of all, I was happy near enough all the time (despite what was happening).

The majority of what I can remember from my time as a regular inpatient at hospital, are the funny moments and the nice moments. The laughs and chats I had with staff, friends and family. I wasn’t afraid to be a bit silly. I hardly felt anxious. I felt nervous – many times! But that was to do with the procedures I was having. I could think straight and give clear answers and mentally I was in a good place. To start with anyway.

After my first major operation at King’s, there were many, many complications (which I will go into at some point) meaning I was up and down the hospital like a yo-yo (I just thought of that .. haha..) so I think, eventually, the constant going up and down and the fact that I couldn’t see my friends often, couldn’t go to school and overall couldn’t have a ‘normal’ life as a 15/16 year old actually started to effect me.

My life was like this for 2 years really. 2013 and 2014. Those two years were manic in terms of hospital visits and just my condition being at it’s worse. Come 2015, things settled down. Even now, I consider 2015 as being one of the best years ever. I probably had 1 procedure that year (this trend carried on till last year). There was hardly any hospital visits – just plenty of meeting up with friends both at school/sixth form and outside of school, spending time with family and also plenty of parties! (Including my 18th!)

I was still Katie back then. I was happy, confident, silly. I didn’t care about what people thought about me. My confidence was still high. I had a couple of moments but didn’t really think much of them. I loved being that Katie.

Since 2016 though, things have..well..changed. That year, something didn’t feel right. At first, I wondered wether it was just the fact that I was focusing on how good the previous year was and I started comparing – even though there wasn’t really much to compare haha. I was still at school/sixth form for the first half of that year. But I finished and went on to college in the September. It was a big step, so I was expecting to be nervous. It would be a big step for anyone but for me, personally, it was massive because during my time at school a lot had happened. Especially during the last couple of years. And they had supported me so much and I had started to see the staff more as friends. So, it’s no surprise that when I was feeling low through out that year – up until September – that I generally thought that was normal. I had a little bit of counselling during that time from the school to help. And it did. But I started to notice that something was different about this Katie. Maybe it was nerves due to leaving and starting afresh at college.

(I will go into going back to school, starting college etc.. in other blogs by the way)

I started college and I thought I’d start feeling like Katie again. I made friends, enjoyed the course (Creative Media production…if anyone was wondering). Everything was going fine. Something still wasn’t right. I had counselling again, this time at the college, and it helped a bit but I was still so confused. I still had moments of feeling low. I still wasn’t me.

This carried on throughout my time at college. Although, I must say, last year I went to the doctors with the help of a neighbour (I was at my very lowest and she persuaded me to go to the doctors) and got some help. I had CBT therapy. This actually done quite a lot of good for me!

I finished the sessions late last year. Since then, I do a feel a bit better. I still have my moments. And I still have times when I don’t feel like ‘Katie’ still but I now know she is there. I am still here. And the confident me, the silly me, the happy me does show every so often. Much more than it has done the last couple of years. I’m still on a journey. I’m still in recovery – physically and mentally. But I’m on my way.

Slowly but surely!

(I remembered to add a quote woo!)

“I am learning to trust the journey even when I do not understand it.” – Mila Bron

What’s going on? (6 years cont..)

It’s kind of scary to think that all of this was going on around this time 6 years ago. Anyway, onto the rest of my story…

A lot of the time spent down in X-Ray was a bit of a blur if I’m honest. I’m told we were down in X-Ray for quite a long time. I remember the radiographer on the phone to someone whilst walking in and out the room. (The person on the other end of the phone, I found out later, was actually my consultant – he was directing the radiographer on what pictures he wanted taken at different angles). From what I’m told everyone was a bit shocked at what they were seeing.

The images appearing on the screen seemed to show that my stomach, liver and basically everything else in that area was in the wrong place. The main organs in the wrong place were; my stomach and my liver. My stomach was positioned vertically up my left side of my body and my liver was where my stomach should have been. I reckon I was in the X-Ray department for at least an hour or so. The radiographer was getting as many images as was instructed (by my consultant) and because we were in there so long, and the radiographer was taking a lot of images – a warning light apparently started flashing. This was to say that we were getting near, or had gone over, the limit of radiation that a person should have in one go. In total I had 72 images taken in that room. That number has always stuck with me for some reason. I remember seeing the number on the screen. Another thing that had to be done during the taking of images was moving my NG tube, which I still had. And by this, I don’t mean taking it out and putting a new one in a different nostril or anything, just moving it a bit from the outside so the inside – which was in my stomach – could be seen on the computer/image. I can’t remember exactly why. Maybe because it was getting in the way of important areas in the image?

So anyway, once I had spent my time down at the X-Ray Department Me, my dad, my nurse and the student nurse went back up to the ward. That evening (I think), my soon-to-be new consultant came to see me. He explained what he saw in the scans. Where the stomach and liver was, and various other organs. But the stomach and liver was the main concern. He mentioned an operation – which was suggested previously a couple of months back, but that was only a maybe at that point. Now, it was definite. I needed this operation. And this operation that was needed? It was quite a major procedure. At the time, it didn’t seem that major – I think I was just numb from everything that was going on. I smiled and carried on as per ‘normal’ – genuinely my usual reaction to something that doesn’t quite go right. I think also, because I was quite young, I didn’t quite understand the full meaning of it all. They had to move my organs around – it still doesn’t seem that big of a deal to me if I’m honest. My Dad probably had it explained in a slightly more detailed way than was told to me. Obviously, he didn’t react to it and had the same attitude as me – although that might have been a cover to protect me. We were told that they couldn’t do anything straight away as I was still quite weak and needed to be ‘built-up’ with mainly tube feeds.

The following few days involved; speaking to my consultant and his team, having a procedure done (very minor op to insert a picc line for tpn/drip feeding), resting and the normal obs and blood tests.

Here are some screenshots of a few Facebook posts I uploaded at the time. Excuse my grammar and spelling back then. Some of it is a bit cringy if I’m honest 😂😂. But I’m showing you because, well, they’re quite light hearted and it just shows the sense of humour I had at this time.

^^^^^

Yes, I craved foods in hospital, mainly cheese though….😂^^^^^^

(This was funny, everyone, including the staff were a bit puzzled as to who this ‘Jamie Rickers was. 😂. That was until he actually came to the ward. We knew who he was then!😁😂) By the way – I can’t find the photo unfortunately)

6 years…continued

So, where did I get up to?

Oh yes, I’d just arrived at King’s College Hospital in London.

*coincidentally I have recently been notified that it was on this day 6 years ago that I found out I was to be sent to King’s the following day – see screenshot of status I uploaded onto Facebook on this day below (actually they wanted me up there that evening but my dad wanted to sort some clothes and that out so requested for me to go early the following morning)*

It was an interesting day to say the least. I was really not looking forward to going to King’s. I know it’s a good hospital but I think it was the fact that it was a massive hospital and was based in London. You hear all these stories of people being sent to a London hospital such as King’s when they’ve got major injuries or conditions.

I remember the night before I went. I couldn’t sleep. I knew the staff at my local hospital. I knew the environment. I knew how close to home I was if mum or Dad was needed.

I burst into tears and spoke to a nurse that night. I couldn’t sleep. I was petrified. I did my research on the hospital and looked up the ward I was going to be on. Don’t get me wrong, it looked okay but, again, it was a scary time.

Anyway, fast forward to being admitted. So I don’t remember much about this time, but I’ll try my best to remember what I can.

One of the first things that happened once I had settled, was that we discovered they had my name down wrong. Me and Dad noticed this when my nurse for that day came to see me and introduce herself. Looking back now, it is actually a bit amusing. Back then though, I wasn’t that happy if I’m honest – but that’s probably because of the stress and anxiety I was feeling from moving hospitals.

Anyway, my nurse wanted to confirm some of my details or something (this event is a bit of a blur to me apart from the next part..) One of these ‘confirmations’ was of my name. I think she asked something along the lines of “You’re Katie-bell aren’t you?”. Yes you read that right. Katie-bell.

I remember looking at her briefly, blankly, and saying – in a bit of a sassy tone may I just add…. (sorry Carrie – I know you’re probably reading this😅😂) “Katie.” And she responded “oh, you prefer ‘Katie’ do you?” And I was like “No my actual name is Katie. Not Katie-bell” 😂😂

To this day, it’s a mystery to me as to how the name “Katie-bell” come about. And yes, I know it sounds like Tinker-bell. It’s a nice name. But it’s not my name. The only thing me and my dad have thought of is that when my local hospital rung King’s to give them my details, they began saying “Katie” then someone rang the bell at the door of the ward so the person on the phone shouted “bell!”. And so the person on the other end of the phone at King’s wrote that down. Thus, Katie-Bell. All in all. It’s actually quite a funny story😂

Anyway, after that incident was resolved, I remember seeing many doctors and specialists. There was a lot of introductions! It was mad!

I had my obs done, bloods taken (which is quite the challenge for me – cannula’s have always been quite difficult to get into me) and was finally left alone for some time.

Now I can’t remember whether it was on this day or one of the following days, but I do remember a crucial moment from this time. It was when I went down to X-Ray.

Now this. This is when I realised. When my dad realised. When the doctors, consultants, nurses etc realised. That there was something quite seriously wrong….

6 Years…

This month marks 6 years since the event that, well, made me who I am today.

6 years ago this month, I became really ill. I was 15 years of age and incredibly small. Throughout the majority of my childhood and teen years, I had always been small-built and considered underweight. No one really knew why but we put it down to my genes and the condition I was born with.

At this stage, I’d reached a scary weight of 3 stone. I was dangerously thin. Something was obviously seriously wrong. Early September, I was due to start my two weeks of work experience at a nursery. I was in year 11 (my final year of school) by this point. I managed 1 day. I felt a bit rough that day, but managed to hold it together and carry on as normal as best I could, until I got home. I went down-hill very quickly and within a couple of days I was admitted into my local hospital and put on a drip. I was at my weakest..

The photo above was taken on this day (7th September) in 2012.

Because I had gotten so weak, they decided that it may be best to give me an NG tube to help build me up and make me feel better, as I was now struggling to eat myself (I had always had an on/off relationship with eating – it’s never been great, but by this point I could hardly eat a thing).

After a few days being boosted up with a drip and NG tube feeds, I was blue-lighted up to Kings College Hospital in London. This was because even though I was feeling a bit better, it was very obvious something wasn’t right and my consultant felt that it was time that I moved to a more specialist hospital.

I remember the trip up there, I was petrified. A new hospital. A London hospital. A big hospital. A specialist hospital. Scary stuff for a young 15 year old.

I arrived at Kings. My dad was also with me. I was a bit cheeky when we arrived though (got to lighten up the situation in some way, hey?). The paramedic asked me if I was feeling okay and if I wouldn’t mind walking to the ward – if not, it wasn’t a problem as they could take me up in the bed. I said how I felt a bit faint so I’d rather be taken to the ward in the bed. So they took me through A&E, through the corridors, to the lift and up to the ward. Princess Elizabeth Ward I had been admitted to. Once we’d arrived at the ward, I’d settled in a bit and the paramedics left Dad asked me if I was still feeling faint. I replied “I wasn’t actually feeling faint. I just wanted a ride in a hospital bed!”😂

So, if any of those paramedics ever read this; I’m sorry for the hassle! To be honest, I’ve had so many rides in hospital beds now – I’ve had enough of them!!

To be Continued…..

Welcome!

Hey! I’m Katie and this is my blog. I decided to write a blog because;

I wanted to share my story
I wanted to have a way of possibly helping someone else in a similar situation
I have studied media for a good few years and felt that this sort of thing is just a perfect way for me to gain skills and experience as well as talking about something that’s quite a big part of my life.
And I wanted to use this blog as a diary for myself, in a way

So yeah, I hope you enjoy reading. There will be lows, but there will also be many highs! I am more than happy to answer any queries you have or if you just want to say hi – I love meeting new people, so don’t be afraid to click on the contact tab for my contact details!

Many Thanks,

Katie x

Humour helps

My last post was a bit gloomy so I thought i’d make this post more upbeat and positive, with a bit of humour.

First of all, I’d just like to thank a good friend of mine for some advice she gave me after seeing my previous post. She suggested that basically when I have days where I’m feeling like I did loads of things wrong and/or am questioning everything I’ve said and done, try to think and make a list of the good things I did that day. The positive things.

Like, on that day, well you probably saw what I did/thought, but when I look back at that day again I should have actually seen a nice day out with a couple of friends. A day where I saw a film I really liked. A day where I had a good catch-up and a laugh. A day where I got out of the house to be social. So yeah, it was actually a pretty good day. And I will try to start making a list – like a pros and cons list (with the pros hopefully outshining the cons). I might show the list on this blog or keep it private – that is what I am to decide.

As well as mentioning the above, I thought I’d share some of the more positive and funny moments of my life – particularly set during my time in hospital. I know it probably seems odd, having some of my happy, humorous memories being set at a hospital – believe me there’s plenty other nice memories from other places such as school and college too! – but I think these stories I’m about to tell you show not only you but also proves to myself that despite what negative situation is sent to try me, there is always a positive side somewhere. You have just got to find it.

Anyway, enough rambling on. Here are my top 3 situations in my life that have resulted in humour.

The NG tube incident.

I had an NG tube (Nasal-gastric) for about a year – maybe just less. I can’t remember if I mentioned what happened in September 2012? If I haven’t, I will be explaining fully soon. But basically, my weight dropped quite severely and I became quite ill and in need of more operations but because I was so underweight and weak – I was given an NG tube for a while to build me up for these operations.

So, there were a few times during my stay as an inpatient in hospital where I was bored and because I have a slightly silly/cheeky sense of humour, I thought it would be fun to well, have a bit of fun with the nurses/doctors. Particularly, on this occasion. I had a student nurse look after me, along with a qualified nurse. They were both great. I had to have the pH level of my stomach acid tested due to the end of my tube being positioned in my stomach. The level had to be tested because they had to check that it was in the right place of my stomach. Different parts of the stomach had slightly different pH levels and it was important that the tube was in the right part. It was also to make sure it hadn’t got caught up anywhere or got stuck in a place that wasn’t my stomach (for this, the level will be wrong or not conclusive). To check the tube was in the right place, the nurse – or myself at times – would take a syringe and attach it to the other end of the tube which was showing (the NG tube is inserted through my nose – so the other end of the tube not in my stomach is stuck on one side of my face). The student, in this case, proceeded with doing this and then started to pull the syringe back (the process being some acid will be sucked up the tube and into the syringe – sorry if it sounds gross). Now, I thought it would be funny to suck in my cheeks as she pulled back the syringe to make it look as if she was sucking out my insides. She panicked, apologised and started pushing all the contents (acid) inside of the syringe, back into my body. Oh boy. I obviously quickly stopped and said “I was only joking”. Dad burst out laughing, as did the qualified nurse. She then, luckily got the joke and also laughed. That moment didn’t last long but the memory will stay with me forever. Because it was funny for me and for everyone else in the room. I love making people laugh.

(Here is a photo of me doing the exact action….although with out the cross-eyes haha!)

2. The ‘Wasting away’ incident

Sounds a bit worrying. Bare with me. So, at one stage there was a time where I had been admitted as an inpatient due to a few problems with my stomach. I had been there for a good week, at least, by this stage. It was getting to the point where I was actually wanting to eat. I was hungry and craving different foods which normally is a good, rare, thing for me. However, I was nil by mouth due to the tests I was having. Though I understood why I was nil by mouth, I wasn’t happy about it. Me and my dad decided to have a bit a bit of a laugh with the doctors/surgeons who were doing their ward rounds (this one was kind of his idea to start with but I added onto it).

What we did is put my teddy (yes, I had a teddy called ‘lucky’ – I felt like it brought me luck whilst I was in hospital) on my bed, with it’s head up against the pillow. And then we laid my pyjamas out flat on top on the bed to make it look like the teddy was wearing the Pj’s.

We pulled the curtain round, sat on the two chairs in my cubical and waited for the doctors to get to us. We heard them get closer then the curtain got pulled round. There was a second silence then Dad said “Told you, you should have fed her” (or something along those lines). Everyone laughed. I remember that moment fondly. We were quite well known in that hospital – for the right reasons luckily!

(I thought I’d have a photo of the teddy in the pj’s on the bed but I don’t unfortunately, but here’s a picture of the teddy, in the same bed, ‘listening to music’)

3. The “MY DAD’S A WOMAN!” incident

Now, this is a moment that will probably stay with me forever. And I’m quite surprised I still remember it. Probably because my dad won’t stop reminding me of it. I have told many people this story as it’s just so brilliant! (I think so anyway…)

So, it was after one of my major operations. And I had not long been moved from intensive care. I was now in special care (which is a step down from intensive – if anyone was wondering). I had obviously been given a lot of medicine to keep me as still as possible and to just prevent me from feeling any pain. Most of that time I don’t remember. What I do remember, though, are some of my hallucinations. Because of the drugs they were giving me, I was hallucinating. Completely normal for my state. And it eventually, obviously, worn off.

I must have been hallucinating a lot, but as I say, I can’t remember much of that time. One particular hallucination I do remember though. I remember being in a ward or room (that’s not 100% clear) and looking up at my dad from my bed. As I looked up, I saw – and this is no joke – that my dad had breasts! Like, you could see the outline of them on the top he was wearing. It was so weird… I looked up at him and in pure shock shouted, “MY DAD’S A WOMAN. HE’S GOT BOOBS”.

Oh dear. He must have been a tad embarrassed. In fact I think he was, considering he still reminds me of that moment to this day….

(I don’t have any photos of this moment…..obviously. It’d be weird if I had)

Haha, so yeah. There’s some amusing moments from my life. I will be sure to add some more throughout the blog!