HAIR TODAY GONE TOMORROW

Ever since I was a teenager I've loved my hair. In fact I can solemnly swear that it is the only part of my body I've ever loved! Maybe it's something I've inherited from my mother, who in her seventies, still remains hair proud. Maybe it's just being a girl. Who knows? All I can say is that my locks and I have always had a special bond.

In the eighties, I was queen of the frizziest perm you could imagine. A bottle of hairspray went into that look and in case of an earthquake I can assure you my hair would not have moved. In fact a small town could have easily sought shelter under that perm!

I changed my hair according to my love life. When I started Uni I had a boyfriend with a short mod haircut. Wanting to show solidarity I too had a short cut; long enough at the front so my conservative parents wouldn't kill me, prickly short at the back so the boyfriend would approve. When he dumped me I grew my hair back!

In the nineties I joined forces with a very enthusiastic hairdresser who coloured, cut, bleached,

NEVER THIS BRAVE

shaped, shore and massaged my head. It was the highlight of each month, a time to gossip and plan the look for future months, She never let me down, till she left town.

In the middle of a long hair phase one day, I looked down in the shower and spotted wads of my hair. My pillow also looked a bit hairy so I had no choice but to investigate.  Lifting up my brown locks I was shocked to see a bald spot as big as my palm. My hair had literally fallen out overnight. Doctor and hairdresser both called it alopecia areata, hair loss due to all the stress I was going through. My eldest daughter at that stage was going through recurrent pneumonia and my sister had cancer. Tough times indeed.

Over time my hair regrew but it never, ever looked the same. It lost its strength and its bounce and in some areas was still patchy and light on. But I survived and continued with my hair escapades, though these days we always had to ensure the " light on" area was sufficiently covered. I looked
longingly at my niece's pink and blue hair, but knew my days of hair experiments were over if I didn't want my hair to fall out again.

That was about 18-20 years ago.

Today I look into the mirror and I feel a little beaten. My face looks a little sad and my hair, well it's thinning. Yet again my body has decided to eliminate its hair and yet again it's not from my legs (a better choice in my opinion) but my head. And I care...a lot. It seems my body is reacting to surgery, stress, weight loss, possible nutrient deficiency. Pick one, any one! Or pick all!

It literally sucks. Of all places my hair. And I just happen to be in a short stage so people can see my scalp better. Awesome. Hurry up and regrow PLEASE. And  hairdressers no I don't want black powder sprinkled over my bald spots. With my luck I'll scratch my head, then my face and...well I'll leave that to your imagination.

Of course there are many reasons why people lose their hair. An internet friend sent me this article which is worth reading if you are having a similar problem.
http://www.health.com/health/gallery/0,,20727114,00.html

Off to look at hats, scarves and beanies. Maybe I should move to the UK till it regrows.Hard to get away with a beanie in 40C weather here.

Till next time...xxx
ST

GROWING UP AUSTRALIAN

Tomorrow is Australia Day.

When I was 9, my Dad packed the whole family up and took us to live in Australia. All I knew about Australia was that there were kangaroos and koalas. Other than that I had no idea and it all felt like a big adventure.

As a child, growing up Australian meant:

• Living in the red dirt of Port Hedland and having the most exciting year ever.
• Meeting my first Aboriginal people and being entranced by their stories, especially at school.
• Living through a cyclone which destroyed Port Hedland.
• Joining Brownies and wearing our akubra like hats.
• Being able to cycle around the town without fear.
• Getting the first colour TV on the street and having all the local kids knock on the door at 7am to watch Sesame street in colour.
• Eating polony knob sandwiches in white bread.
  

It also meant:

•  Moving to the city of Perth, two days drive away.
• Starting at another new school and being made to feel dumb because I was smart. You work that out.
• Swimming at the beach, between the flags and getting dumped.
• Falling in love with Australian Rules footy.
• Being able to recite the entire Australian test cricket team in order.
• Watching Countdown on Sunday nights.
• Being a "Sherbet" fanatic.
• Fish and chips for a treat.
• Peters icecream with a spoon.
• Reading " Picnic at Hanging Rock" over and over again.
  
• Vegimite rolls on fresh bread!

As I moved out of school and into university, growing up Australian meant:

• A free education (unfortunately no more).
• Excellent healthcare.
• Singing to Hoodoo Gurus.
• Kings Park, the beach, Rottnest with friends.
• Meeting many others from Australia's diverse cultural background.

 And now I'm older:

• Moving back to the peace and laid back lifestyle of regional western Australia.
• Marrying an Aussie.
• Learning more Aussie slang than I ever knew existed!
• Eating foods I had never tried - mutton, mullet, clinkers!
• Learning about wildflowers.
• Giving birth to my two little Aussies.
• Learning how to cook the best pavlova in the world...if I say so myself!
• Travelling around this wonderful country and seeing how truly blessed we are. Australia is just stunning.
• Learning about Anzac Day
• Teaching some of the nicest young Aussies ever and becoming a part of their life. 

Yes folks, I've grown up Australian. A part of my heart will always be with Malta, the country we left, but I am Australian and proud of it.

Happy Australia Day everyone!
Till next time...xxx

JUST A LOAD OF FLUFF!

At Christmas, Mum gave me a voucher to a boutique which I used to love shopping in. I say " used to" because when I put on weight, nothing from there fitted me after a while. It was Mum's way of saying that with so much weight lost, I'd earned the right to shop there again. Exciting stuff for me.

Two days ago I got time to use the voucher and I was delighted because everything in the shop was on sale for $50. In some cases this was less than half price! I chose two beautiful hot pink tops. One was sleeveless with cornelli work ( embroidery) around the hem. The other was an Indian style, free flowing top.

With my two purchases safely ensconced in a carry bag I headed off to Coles to buy milk and a couple of other things. At the checkout the girl asked if she could put the 3 items in the carry bag I was carrying. As they were not fridge or freezer items I couldn't see a problem, though I did say a little prayer that the milk would not explode over my beautiful pink tops,

Well... it exploded. In the five minutes it took to arrive home, it exploded over my brand new clothes. I had no option but to put my brand new, not yet worn garments into the wash.

An hour later when I lifted up the washing machine lid, I stood there in a daze. One of the tops ( the one with the stunning Cornelli work) had literally exploded. The washing machine was full of pink fluff and both tops were coated in the same fluffy mixture. Reaching in to retrieve the wet mess was fun and soon I too was covered in hot pink fluff. Of course I was wearing black which only served to highlight the vibrant colour.

I shook the culprit garment outside so I could ascertain the damage. Fluff flew around the courtyard making the small area look like a fairyland. Within minutes the trees and pavers were pink. How could one top carry so much fluff?

I returned to the washing machine and removed handfuls of fluff. I couldn't get it all so I grabbed the vacuum cleaner and vacuumed the washing machine and the floor. Luckily the cord could reach outside so I could vacuum the pavers, the bushes and the soil. With half the garden beds in my vacuum bag, things looked a bit better. I looked at the culprit again. Where beautiful embroidery had once sat, now there were holes and fluff. I threw it in the bin.

Yes, I should have returned it.

Hours later on my way home, I rang the girls to rescue the bag from the bin and return it to the shop

for me. I had messaged the shop with my story and though the customer care manager sounded a tad unbelieving, she said she would like to see the garment before helping me out. She told me they had sold hundreds of this top with no problems. Well, if something is going to go wrong, it will go wrong to me lady. The stories I could tell you!

Till next time, as I continue to pull pink fluff out of my hair ... Xxx

                                                                                                                                                             ST

# STOP IT

We are coming to the end of our holiday in Adelaide, South Australia. It's been a great week

navigating around the beautiful city and countryside, drinking a bit of local wine and eating a variety of different cuisines. In my case of course with my new stomach, it's been sips and tastes and lots of rest in between, to help me recover and bounce back. I'm doing just fine.

In one of the cafes we went to, we met a young waitress wearing a tshirt with the logo #STOP IT. Of course we wanted to know the story behind the shirt. She said that an old friend of hers had a habit of saying STOP IT after everything, and when he left town all his friends had shirts made with # STOP IT printed on them. The group of friends has spread to all corners of the world, but every so often somebody uploads a photo wearing the tshirt and in this way, despite the distance they keep in touch. I thought it was a really cute story!

I want a # STOP IT T-shirt! But I want one with magical powers that would immediately stop whatever I wanted it to stop. Eg I would ask it to stop my worrying and anxiety and stop my crappy body playing up and making me sick. Wouldn't that be great!

Tomorrow we head back to Western Australia to see the girls and the rest of the family for a couple of days. Then it's homeward bound and time to deal with unsolved issues, like the fact we still have a house that needs repairs done. After sleeping in a beautiful king size bed all week in Adelaide, we will be back to sleeping in our lounge room in hot, stuffy conditions, because the tradesmen haven't started work yet. Grin and bear it. This too shall pass or off with their heads.

It's been good spending so much time with the husband. This man is my rock and my best friend. He drives me mad sometimes but I often think how blessed I am regardless. I'm sure that some men would have done a runner if faced with what he has had to put up with in the last ten years. He told me today that he has to remind himself that I'm ok and not sick. I've really stressed him out poor man.

Anyway, back to # STOP IT.

If you had a magical # STOP IT shirt, what would you get it to stop? Can't wait to read your answers.

Short post this week.

Till next time...xxx ST

BIG BUTT BE GONE

I've realised that the only way to " bounce back" ( see last post) is to accept the past and make way for the future. Last October I underwent a procedure called a sleeve gastrectomy. This is a weight loss procedure not to be undertaken lightly.

WHAT HAPPENS IN THE PROCEDURE?
Two thirds of your stomach is removed leaving you with a little baby stomach and very little hunger hormone.

ARE YOU CRAZY?
Looking back now...quite possibly. Just joking, I'm sure I wasn't crazy at the time. People who know me personally feel free to comment.

WHY THEN?
I got very frustrated with doctors brushing off my health issues with " just lose weight and you'll be fine ". I had two close calls of the c nature, in the last few years and the lack of understanding shown to me ( a person with a rare disease) was astounding.Deciding to have the surgery was hard but made easier by the surgeon telling me that with my medical history, I had no chance of losing the weight through diet and exercise alone. That was a slap in the face.

WHAT HAPPENED?
The operation was a disaster. Somehow the procedure resulted in a gastric leak - a bloody big hole in my stomach which took an eternity to fix. I spent six weeks in hospital and a portion of this time in intensive care. I developed many complications. It was awful.

WHAT COULD YOU EAT DURING THIS TIME?
For weeks all I could have was ice and water sips. Surprisingly I didn't miss food till about week 3. About week 4 I was allowed some other fluids - broth and juice. This was a blessing but for someone used to combatting stress with food, and now not being able to do so, was hard.

About week 6 I was allowed milky drinks, soup and ice cream. As I am lactose intolerant here began my 4 week soupathon. Thank God it's summer because if I never see soup again, it will be too soon.

WHAT WAS IT LIKE TO FINALLY EAT FOOD?
For six weeks in hospital I dreamed of scrambled eggs. My first food was therefore scrambled eggs. I managed four tastes before being overwhelmed by an unusual " blocked" feeling. An hour later up it came. Not the experience I expected. The husband got all worried and rang the doctor who put me back on soup. Could not believe it!

ARE YOU HEALED?
Physically I'm healed- the hole is closed up. Mentally I'm still challenged. I can't get my head around the fact that yet again I had to go through a medical drama. There are still many unanswered questions which as part of my " bouncing back" mantra, I am seeking answers for. I feel stressed beyond stressed when I think how close I came to dying and how close my husband and children came to not having a wife or mother. And all because some doctors brush me off! That's a bitter pill to swallow and yes at midnight when I can't sleep, I go through all six weeks in detail. It's hard.

HOW ARE THINGS GOING WITH FOOD?
Food and I have ceased to be friends. Finding things my stomach tolerates is hard work and although I know it's early days, I'm over it. At the moment I'm on holiday in South Australia. My husband refused to take me out of the country until I patch up my relationship with food. And I have to admit he was right.It's got to the stage that I'm eating anything ( nutritious or not) in the hope it stays down. The grand total of food  for today is 6/7 chips, some nuts and 2 protein bars. Everything else...vom.

DO PEOPLE TREAT YOU DIFFERENTLY NOW YOU'VE LOST WEIGHT?
Not that I've noticed, but I've been somewhat occupied elsewhere.

DO YOU FEEL DIFFERENT NOW YOU'VE LOST WEIGHT?
To be honest no but that's possibly because of the food issues and an ongoing problem with low blood pressure. It's good to get into smaller sizes of clothing, but it doesn't make me any happier. I need to move on from feeling miserable because of yet another medical nightmare. It's hard but I'm trying.

ARE THERE ANY GOOD BITS TO THE SAGA?
I'm alive.
I know how much my husband, children, family and friends love me.
I made a couple of new friends; ladies who had the same surgery.
Big butt is gone!

WHAT NOW?
It's a new year. I am attempting to deal with the fallout from this procedure as best I can but I'm determined to bounce back sooner rather than later and get on with my life.

WOULD YOU RECOMMEND THE PROCEDURE?
Apparently a gastric leak is 1% chance of happening. (And it had to be me). You need to decide for yourself. I'm a walking disaster area and not qualified to give advice.

WOULD YOU DO IT AGAIN?
Hard one - not sure. Ask me when food loves me again.

How would you have dealt with my situation?

Till next time...xxx

ITS A NEW YEAR BOUNCE BACK!

I got a phone call this morning from an old friend who is always a pleasure to talk to. Before we ended the conversation she asked me why I hadn't been updating my blog. My immediate response was that since my operation and the ensuing dramas, I had lost the will and the urge to write. I was surprised and a little worried that I sounded so dramatic, but surprisingly she understood. She reminded me how seriously ill I had been and how that sort of stuff can mess with you. It felt good to hear someone voice how I was feeling and to acknowledge that I was allowed to feel out of sorts. I am usually so good at bouncing back from medical procedures that I put pressure on myself to always " bounce back". This time it wasn't happening as quickly as I wanted to and I felt frustrated.

And this is not surprising. My new stomach is still getting used to food and life has become eat, eat, vom, vom (vomit for my Dad who no doubt will ring me to check the validity of the word ). I never realised the repercussions of my surgery would be so hard. It's actually exhausting to eat! Furthermore, my house is still in chaos thanks to a burst water pipe before Christmas, which destroyed my bedroom, bathroom and more. We are waiting for tradesmen to start work but two months later they are still in no hurry. It's getting depressing. We are still sleeping in our lounge room and still have our bedroom strewn around the rest of the house. Neither the husband nor I have a clue where our belongings are!

So there you have it. Those are the main reasons I haven't been writing.  It is what it is. I've been feeling terrible and that's ok.The fact that I'm writing today is a good sign I think.

Just one final thing. People often think that if you are upright and standing, if you are dressed, if you wear makeup, if you have a smile on your face...then you must now be ok. This is not necessarily so and especially not so for people with chronic conditions. They have to be like that because otherwise the condition wins. But that doesn't necessarily make everything ok. Far from it some days.

What can you do? Never feel that you can't ask someone how they are. Always be willing to chat if you are willing to listen. Don't ever tell someone to " move on". People move on when they are ready to move on. And most importantly be the sort of person who cares about others as well as themself.

Looking forward to a great year and bouncing back to my old self.


Till next time...xxx ST

FAT GIRL IN MY BRAIN

Well thanks to my stomach surgery and my never ending stay in hospital, I have lost 22 kg. Actually it's 22.6 almost 23. I'm claiming every gram because it's been a hard run.

People's reactions when they see me are hilarious. My brother keeps staring. He's not convinced I am who I say I am. My parents keep saying they've got their daughter back. This sort of irks me because carrying excess weight does not mean you're lost. It simply means you're fat. But the biggest reaction is from shop assistants. That's because finally there is one. I no longer walk in and see the eyes rolling and the under the breath muttering that nothing will fit me in here. It makes me so cross to actually experience this change. Now I am treated with respect. Everyone should be treated that way.

It's all very confusing. I sat on my bed this morning and looked down at my body and still felt fat. I put on my clothes and my pants swayed around me. They are about two sizes too big. My brother asked me if I felt healthier. Honest answer is no. I feel the same. Should I be feeling healthier? Like I said confusing.

Getting back to clothes. I walked into a boutique I hadn't shopped in for years. The assistant asked me if she could help me. The " fat girl" still in my brain said " No, I'm just looking. Nothing will fit me here". She looked at me strangely and pushed me into the dressing room with a dress I had been looking at in my hands. It was too big. I tried on a smaller size and it fit. I hadn't bought anything in that size in an eternity. I looked at myself in the mirror and I felt like crying. The brain has not caught up with the body and I just didn't recognise the person in the mirror.

Doctor gave me the " all clear" on Thursday. The hole in my stomach is no longer leaky. Now the big task of training my stomach to eat food has begun. Last night my mother put a cube of chicken, a spoonful of mashed potato and another spoonful of veg on my plate. She looked at the offering with disgust before proclaiming that Isabella ( my 1 year old niece) would eat more. She may well eat more but I still struggled. It's early days yet.

As I sign off, I would like to wish you all a Happy and holy Christmas. I hope you all enjoy special times with your friends and family. If there's one thing I've learned this year it is how precious these occasions are.

Think of me eating my cube of ham, my cube of turkey and my mushy veggies on Christmas Day. I'm just so grateful to be around to have that.

Till next time...xxx ST