The Operation

On Thursday I had my first...and hopefully last...operation. If you haven't heard why, check out my previous blog post "A Bit of Cancer"

So I'd been carrying on with everyday life looking after the kids on Mondays, Tuesdays and Fridays, doing a mosaic in Knutsford on Wednesdays and a mural in Manchester on Thursdays and planning my new comedy night in my spare time (more details to follow when things are more confirmed, but I'm super excited about it).

There's nothing you can really do to prepare for an operation other than not eat from 2am that morning. The night before I filled up on a big carvery and ice cream, before reading that I should avoid fatty food or over-eating. I was allowed my last drink at 6:30am and had to be in the women's hospital for 7:30am. Dan took me in but wasn't allowed to stay because there would be women "in various states of undress". So Dan had taken the day off work - the kids were in nursery and he was back home with his feet up by 8:15am. Jammy.

They told me I was last on the list and wouldn't be operated on until 2:30pm! But I had to stay within the hospital grounds just in case. I'm a creative, inventive person, but let me tell you there is not a lot of fun to be had within a women's hospital on your own when you're not even allowed to eat or drink. I spent a bit of time wandering around and guessing if women were fat or pregnant but was never brave enough to then ask them. So I mainly stuck to reading which I haven't done for a very long time.

I bought a new book because I knew I would have time for silent, still activities for once. "Undivided - by Vicky Beaching". Vicky is a Christian musician celebrity who once *claim to fame* rode my unicycle. I know right! In 2014 she came out as gay aged 35...probably not as a direct result of riding my unicycle. Anyway, she faced a lifetime of not feeling able to come out, and when she finally did she lost all her recording contracts and everything but despite that has remained positive about the church and now she's an ambassador for LGBT Christians. Very inspiring, very sad, and has probably tipped me over the edge from being borderline to more liberal in my Christian theology.

So as I was pondering these deep issues of religion and sexuality, I was called in to answer some pre-op questions. I thought the deep questioning of my inner self would end there. But no, along with questions like "do you have any crowns on your teeth?" I was asked "do you have difficulties being able to express your sexuality?" ....err....yeah probably, like how do you express being straight? I'm not exactly going to organise a straight pride, am I?

I was given some beautiful green stockings to put on along with a hospital gown and told to go commando but then wear a dressing gown. Given my operation was still a few hours away I chose not to go commando for all of that time.

Then the time came for me to go into another waiting room for 15 minutes before going to the anaesthetic room. Several medical staff said "the waiting is the worst part". I disagree - I'd say puking up green water was probably the worst part. It's pretty creepy knowing that you're about to be unconscious and have several people messing with your bits even if it is for good reasons. I had a loop excision which is where they chop away at your cervix, and keyhole surgery to remove the pelvic lymph nodes which is apparently quite tricky, and takes about 3 hours.

Just before I woke up I was dreaming of Paw Patrol, then I realised I was in the hospital, was thankful to be alive and asked for water which I then immediately puked up. They took me through to the ward as it was nearly the end of visiting hours and Dan had come in and waited to see me. It was nice to have him there but I was too out of it to have a real conversation. I had a catheter in which was totally weird because you don't feel yourself weeing at all it just sucks the wee out of your bladder so the bladder is never full. It was kind of nice to not have to get up and go to the loo but I was happy when they got rid of it and I could pee on my own terms again.

I survived!

I was in Bay 1 with 82-year-old Joyce and 75-year-old Val, later joined by Gill and Lorraine in their 50s. The first night I was awoken several times but slept ok in between because I still had sleepy drugs in me. In the morning I managed some toast and my good friend Katie who works at the Women's came to visit me before her shift which was lovely. After she left I got this really intense horrible pain - way worse than it had been earlier - I was told this was "wind pain", basically when they do the op they inflate you like a balloon so they can see all your bits better and then they can't do a completely thorough job of deflating you, you have to fart and burp it out over the next few days. Joyce loved a good old burp.

The consultant who did the operation came to tell me about how it went (she was the slightly unfriendly one from my previous blog). She told me she accidentally poked a hole in my womb but she said that my womb was very small, in a kind of accusing way like it was my fault, and she just wasn't expecting it to be that small when she was poking around. Anyway she stitched it up and also removed the pelvic lymph nodes which apparently didn't look cancery to the naked eye. I'll find out in a few weeks.

good job I don't wear bikinis anymore

my new belly button

The nurses were not especially friendly - one of them (when I was in a massive amount of pain) told me I was not the only one to have this operation and that there were women in their 80s having it, implying I should woman up. Women are pretty hard core, there were loads of older women having much bigger surgeries than me, like hysterectomies which take 18 weeks to recover from. But they just get on with it. Us Bay 1 babes looked after each other; we shared a few stories of our families. I was the only one who still had living parents, and I think half of them had lost a partner. Joyce's husband had died over 30 years ago aged 51. She was a lovely lady apart from being a bit racist in that weird way old people are. "That nurse was as black as the ace of spades" - what does that even mean?! But I feel I learnt a lot from them, although the only bit I can really remember is that "it costs £400 to cremate a dog". #funfact

This is not enough food for an adult right? bloody tories!! this is how much food I'd give to my 1 year old.

I stayed in a second night because I didn't feel ready to go home and have to walk up stairs and stuff. But on the Saturday morning they made it clear I'd over-stayed my welcome and even though I'd puked up a green coloured water that morning it was time for me to get out. Dan came to get me and that evening I was feeling a lot better. It was lovely to see the boys even if Percy was not that bothered because Dan had just put new batteries in the moving Brio train. I've been enjoying all the food people have generously made for us, we are very blessed to have amazing friends. I've now reached that lovely point where I'm sick enough to not feel guilty about not helping out but not too sick to watch Netflix. It the perfect amount of ill.

Job Done!

Last week was my big super fun but slightly stressful week. In general I loved it. I've been working on my show for months and I finally got to do it in front of real people instead of just doing it badly in front of Dan, or doing it in the car while commuting. People were super lovely, over 100 people came over the two nights and they were super friendly generous laughers.

My wonderful sister-in-law took these lovely professional photos from the first night. I mean her camera was worth 2000 packets of baby wipes (mummyshare joke) but she is also very talented, check out her stuff here.

I've decided, after about 6 ish years of dabbling in comedy, that I actually want to try at it now. It's a bit scary to say that because you can't really fail if you don't try. But it was a deliberate decision when I started that I wanted to do it only in Liverpool and not try to make money from it because I wanted it to stay fun and not complicate it in my head with work. After one night at hot water comedy club years and years ago, where my stuff went down ok but not brilliantly, I thought these are not "my people" I'll stick to my crowd, the slightly middle class drama graduates with arty ideas playing for free in dingy venues: they're my people. Not those rowdy mainstream commoners.

But with the fresh sense of freedom that comes from not having to breastfeed anymore, I thought I'd give hot water another try. I needed to practise bits for my show so I signed up to do 5 minutes. The crowd were scary and heckley and loud and I wondered what I was doing there: a mum on her own late at night without her husband or anyone she knew, who now speaks in the third person.
But I met a lovely Scottish comedienne and then it turns out 2 friends did turn up to watch and the loudest mouthiest women got thrown out, and my stuff went well and I loved it! It felt like much more of an achievement to make people that I don't know laugh. So then I decided to do it for real and actually try to be a real comedian even if that means gigging to people who hate me or driving out of my city. I signed up for another set at hot water, this time 15 mins. I can't say I smashed it but I didn't not smash it. I guess I cracked the glass a bit if this is the metaphor I'm still on. But I feel the areas which most need improving are the performance related things, like not saying "err" between ever sentence, and if you forget a bit not going back to it if you have moved on, because unless it's essential to the plot the audience don't know.

So my goals now are:
to improve my performing
to preform my show in another city
to gig at least once a week
to gig outside of Liverpool
to at least break even on petrol costs of gigging
to see a bit more live stuff, especially women,
(I went to see the scummy mummies in Manchester, they were ace)
to host my own night (I'm planning that at the mo: more details to follow)
to let touring comedians stay a couple of night in our spare room (when Sarah moves out)

I was really impressed when I got to the Everyman and the legend technician Kieron had set everything out and it looked amazing. I was stressing about it a bit but in the end I hardly had to do any set up which put me in a super happy chilled mood.

That awkward moment when I tried to breastfeed a snake

I'm probably meant to be making the "oooh" sound here like my sister

What a guy! I did originally try to get the baby boy costume but then this second hand girl one was £10 cheaper.

2 years ago Dan dressed as the Suez Canal for my show about my school days. so this was a step up really: at least he's human.

On the first night my intro to the Bonjela song didn't go exactly to plan. 

*picks on random audience member*

H: Have you got kids? how many have you got?

Woman: 3

H: And can I ask you a personal question? How many times have you been in love?

W: Errr 3

H: Are those 3 children a result of the 3 different times?

W: Yes!!

H: Oh! (awkwardness) well err that's fine I'm happy for you. next question, how many times have you been up in the night with a teething baby?

W: Approximately 245423385 times.

H: And how many songs are there about being in love? and how many songs are there about being up all night with a screaming baby? None! so I've written one cue song:

If you haven't seen it yet, heres 6 minutes of show highlights: click on me!

That is almost the end, other than to say thanks for the overwhelming responses to last months blog (synopsis: I may or may not have cancer). Everyone has been super amazing about offering every kind of help. People are lovely. My operation is next week on 11th Oct so unless the worst listed side effect "death" comes into play, I'll be sitting around watching Netflix and skiving off parenting for most of October.

Love Ya. x