The cyst diaries

I have a confession to make... London girl has a big massive baby cyst growing inside of her. This is probably my curse for not having kids in my early twenties. My body is saying f u c k miss, "I'll wait until I set up my own company, until i find the right man and until my travelling and life is where i want it to be".  Perhaps the big guy in the sky is reminding me that if I couldn't hear my biogological clock tick that I will definitely feel the massive weight of my cyst pushing all my internal organs and bits around. Well I am hearing you Big Guy and I have to say I don't like your approach! If you sent me Ryan Gosling we wouldn't have to be here in the first place!

Now that I am with child albeit a mucous fluid child in the Mucinous Cystadenoma family of Ovarian Cysts,  I have some work to do in the delivery department. I am neither scared or worried just pissed off because this is not the first time my cyst baby has reared its ugly cystic head. Yes, this Mucinous Cystadenoma is a repeat offender... almost like that person who comes over uninvited and you cannot get rid of them!

It all started last year February 2012 after getting flu four times in a row, London girl took things into her own hands and wanted to put a stop to the flu cramping her going out schedule! I went to the doctor not only mentioning the flu but also mentioning that my stomach was growing at a fast pace and wasn't sure if it was related. Doctor said I was fine because I guess from their perspective my stomach wasn't big but this was NOT FINE for London Girl. I went again to another doctor in Harley Street mentioning my burgeoning tummy and showing how hard my stomach had become and that I was NOT one of these exercise types so I couldn't warrant a rock hard stomach. Yet again doctor mentioned no issue and charged me £150 thanks. So London Girl did something she swore she would never do and she went on one of these things called, the diet. Don't tell my Portuguese dad! He would never forgive me!

London girl gave up alcohol, popcorn, pasta,bread and reduced her chocolate intake (you didn't expect me to give up chocolate completely did you?). She went on supplement overkill and she even went to the gym... All of these changes and the weight stayed the same. Interestingly enough after going to the Organic Pharmacy and doing their Health Assessment scans again, all my supplements weren't surfacing on the scan either. It's as if my body couldn't get access to the nutrients because something was blocking it. Anyway when I saw that and my ever increasing waistline without the fun, I went back to the doctor and basically told them there is something wrong and didn't take no for an answer (the hunger pangs are a marvelous way of finding a voice that no one can say no too).

Finally, the GP heard me and took me for tests. First they thought it was a distended bladder even after telling them that I am 30 not 90 and had no problems going to the bathroom in fact it was the opposite. Alas the NHS have a set of tests to perform and regardless of what your actual symptoms are they will run through all the initial tests first.  Its an arduous waste of time but there is nothing to do but be a pin cushion and partake in some deep breathing exercises to bring calm. After doing some scans they found a cyst of 31cm. They cannot know the type at that point so thought it was a functional cyst.  I had to have abdominal surgery to remove the cyst and my ovary stayed. The surgery wasn't painful but the morphine didn't work well with me so I spent the first night regurgitating food i didn't know I had. This was a low point for London girl but fortunately for this girl, her sister was on hand and somehow the world is a pretty place when someone is holding your hair back whilst you do the deed. The surgery wasn't painful but it was exhausting. My cyst  weighed 8kgs so I had less to carry but walking to the bathroom in my hospital room got me out of breath and put a new meaning to unfit! I wasn't permitted to carry anything but somehow i needed to carry ME. After surviving the first day of surgery I kept reminding myself 2 more nights and then I would be out but it wasn't too be. I had to have 8 packets worth of blood transfused (very un London Girl like) and that was extremely hard to be upbeat. Having people visit you and you having to act normal whilst you have blood streaming through you and feeling that course through your body is not a pleasant feeling but you somehow get through it by blocking it out and I have SATC to thank for that.

After making it out 5 nights in the hospital getting home was a relief but unfortunately we had the world over  and again I had to be friendly and courteous when all I wanted to do was pass out on my comfortable bed! The days following on from the surgery were a bit tricky. I was also in shock because of the weight loss. Losing 8kgs in a few hours is mind blowing and although alot of women would dream about that, it was hard to adjust to. My clothes didn't fit and I didn't recognise the girl being reflected back even though she had been there alot longer that the cyst girl. I was also never free of the surgery as i had a stitch sticking out right where you zip up your trousers (in winter its a curse!)  so only after 3 months did my doctor realise that the reason my stitch wasn't dissolving is because it was an internal stitch.

Surgery was at the end of August, stitch was removed mid Nov and  by December I had stomach spasms which caused you to stop breathing along with intense pain for a few seconds and then it would be gone. I believe it was my body starting again with the cysts and by January it was confirmed. Cyst baby was back when really I only wanted the Terminator back! I decided this time round I would investigate alternative therapies because none of these doctors can say what causes these cysts and if none of them can do that, how can they say what can cure them? Also there were so many blunders with my surgery and after care that I believe it is my duty to my body to treat it better this time round.

I started doing some homeopathy which turned out to not work. I don't think it has to do with the homeopathy per se but more to do with the person I went to. I then started doing Acupuncture and used chinese herbs and these two things have helped. It has helped my cyst to stop growing as quickly and it has now stopped it growing. However, that is if you know what type of cyst you have. My cyst is already at 8cm as of 8 Oct 2013.

London girl is in a predicament... keep on the chinese herbs and hope it shrinks or remove the cyst surgically. London girl would need another full on abdominal surgery as they cannot remove the cyst via key hole without spillage ( my cyst is too big/complex with chambers inside to be certain it isn't cancerous). My friends and family in particular brother, best friend and boyfriend were amazing with the first surgery but there is something very singular about this whole process.  Only you know what it feels like to be in it, in your body and therein is the problem. London Girl just doesn't think she can go through this again.

Undecided London Girl

Signs of a commitment phobe

I’ve been going on a few dates with a guy. 6 in fact but 3 of those have been in groups. Do those count? Anyway I digress... we have yet to kiss but he is talking about furniture shopping. Furniture shopping... TOGETHER.

I know I am in my thirties and I should be grateful to have this attention but did I mention I’m a commitment phobe? I have trouble to commit plans to a Saturday night. In my commitment phobe eyes, furniture shopping is practically the next step before you move in together. . Furniture shopping implies he cares about my opinion. Furniture shopping means I’ll have my mark stamped all over his apartment which if i'm not in it for the long haul means I should decline. Furniture shopping could mean he may be thinking of us in his apartment TOGETHER with the sunday paper in hand.  Furniture shopping could mean he has perhaps thought of us getting married TOGETHER... furniture shopping could mean he has thought of our babies that we would have TOGETHER and commitment phobe can't breath... BREATH DAMNIT BREATH!!

OK BREATHING...

Ok, commitment phobe has also considered that furniture shopping could also mean he has no decor clue and needs a female opinion... I'm praying it is the last one.  

As a commitment phobe it strikes me as odd that I'm the only one who is feeling this. Surely men are supposed to run through the "Sortie" the minute they see a sign of commitment.  I mean seriously… when did guys become women and women become men? I long for the days of a grizzly bear kind of man who wouldn't know what Christian Louboutins are,who thinks that cleanser is something you use to clean the tyres and the only thing he wants me to buy with him is his spearmint chewing gum. I want a man who will be a gentleman, who knows how to sort out the plumbing, the tv when it goes on the fritz and carry me in his big bear arms and have his way with me. I do not want for the guy who carries me across the bedroom to say… “Do you like what I did with the cushions? I was going to go for black but then I thought earthy tones.  Do you agree?”. Damn you metrosexuals taking our men…

I am giving the metrosexual a chance because he is a sweetheart of a man, really giving, a gentleman and he does make me feel good. Also I am a firm believer in it is in the kiss so hopefully it is good otherwise I will be looking for the exit door. If the kiss is good then I may be forced to endure furniture shopping whilst trying to keep commitment phobe from running a million miles in the other direction. Fingers crossed.

The ugly swan

Luke used to epitomise what happens when you go out to the pub more than once a week and eat take out Indian food three times a week: 10 inches of fat, wrinkles, pasty white skin and no female followers.

Fast forward 6 months and Luke has moved to sunny Spain and has acquired a physique that makes grown women lose whole sentences in his presence and turns even the straight boys’ heads.

Luke was cute before but this hot body has turned him from the ugly duckling to the “lift up my shirt so I can show you my abs” swan. The problem is that Luke is lapping up the attention. At first we all enjoyed him lifting his shirt and allowing us to place our hands on his six pack for a few seconds too long (ok mine may have been a few minutes but I haven’t seen a man naked for a very long time so give me some respite!). Then there were the photos of his tosh and we may have touched his arms once or three times. Our behaviour may have helped turn our friend into a casanova trying to kiss his way through our friendship circle. Now there is me (aka Cleo), Amy and Sarah in the group. Luke has kissed Amy on our trip to Spain and shortly after (ok not on the same night but a month later) tried to kiss Sarah and then I both on the same night which he got a flat no to (I’ll admit it was a hard no to give but my Amy comes first!).

Now Luke and Amy have been friends for 6 years. They work together and Amy was quite cosy with Lukes fiancé but unfortunately Luke and his bride in waiting were not to be. Luke kissed Amy and told her he didn’t want anything to happen between them and actually told me on the night that he kissed the wrong girl. It was me he wanted to kiss but he was too drunk. To which I thought, “Too drunk to tell the difference between a blonde and a brunette?”. “To drunk to being incapable of telling the difference between a South African accent and an English one but maybe it was because there was no talking…”. Bygones for whatever reason the cute Luke has turned into an ugly swan… I much prefer the sweet and honest ugly duckling.

Bring the ugly duckling back!
London girl

You are one of us

After reading a few blogs and realising that maybe I could do some of them better (how very forward of me!) I've decided to join the masses and blog. Please do be kind and give me a kick up the ass if this blog does not meet your expectations.

Yours truly,
London Girl