#SharingSaturday

I would like to thank all the visitors to my page for your support. Even though most of you don't hit that G+ button coz like what does that thing even do?! I re-read that and giggled too... yeah hit my G+ button... hmm. Google did you even notice that? 

Today's post is all about sharing. You guys can keep your #throwbackThursday I wanna start #SharingSaturday. 

This is why:



We've all had one of those days, weeks, months or some of us have even been trapped in our own prisons for years impossible to break free.

It's kinda like you're in a room full of people and you're getting smaller and smaller and quieter and quieter but everyone else is staying the same. Even those in your support network often seem as though they're hard to find in that crowded room. They're trying to find you, oh most assuredly, but you keep making yourself smaller and smaller because the room is just too much. Support only works if you reach out too. I believe this project will help those of us who feel bound by our emotions, trapped in our disabilities and conditions and give us hope and a forever expansive support network. The more people you have in that room to help you, the easier it is for you to find them.

I am a great believer in sending snail mail to people. I have a penpal I have been writing to for over 15 years. You take so much more care in writing letters than you do emails, texts and tweets and it much more satisfying receiving letters that you know someone has taken care to write to you!

I'm well jealous I didn't think of this myself, considering I keep trying to get my friends to write me letters haha.

Link to Support One Million Lovely Letters

Post-New Year confessional

I recently posted about New Year trends of people almost forcing themselves to commit to an unacheivable goal. This, I reckon, is due to them not fully comprehending what they are asking themselves to do. Going cold turkey, fad dieting or going into a high intensive training program to lose weight. So far I've seen people starting new "boot camp" style exercise programs and give up after a few weeks or gone into the gym thinking going for an hour a day, straight up hammer everything, is good for their bodies. You need to train your body to an appropriate level in order to survive shit like that. Weight loss. Weight loss. Weight loss. It's bloody everywhere!

Well my friends, I'm about to tell you something that will no doubt upset you. I don't intend to. Some of you will downright disown me. So be it. 

I go to the gym....

(pause for dramatic effect, as those people who know me will no doubt be all like "wtf that skinny bitch going to the gym for?!")

....to GAIN weight. 

Read that again.

GAIN. 

Italics. Bold. Underlined. CAPITALISED.

I have secretly been going to the gym for the past 20 weeks.

Let me explain.

I have several groups of friends who don't really know each other but in each of those groups there has been certain people who have made me feel shitty and ashamed of my body, to the point where I feel sick when looking at myself. In comparison, to them, my body is of slim build, okay very slim. Miniature hourglass shaped I guess. Their image of what the perfect body is. Always making a comment about my figure, even calling me names. Which is funny once or twice but not every single time you see someone. "You've got it easy, skinny bitch".

You're probably thinking: what's the big deal? 

Well I have the body I have due to my disability. It's not a healthy body. I do not want my body to be attainable for ANYONE. When one of those bigger girls said they would kill for a body like mine and I told her: "You have to be in pain 24hrs a day, choose between eating or taking your medication but you'll throw up regardless. You'll have to put up with every bug and virus coz you're immune system is fucked, sleep deprivation etc etc".
 She politely declined all that but would be happy with the end result.  

These people have made me feel so damn self conscious I have been avoiding them or wearing as many clothes as possible to cover myself up just to stop the comments (it didn't work alas). I just couldn't bring myself to tell them I was going to the gym. Gym=Weight loss. I would get soo damn anxious just thinking about how that person would react I couldn't bring myself to talk to them.

I get it that when a big person walks down the street they are constantly reminded by society that they should be a thinner version of themselves. We are all bombarded by those images of the "ideal" body. I am bombarded with those images too you know. When a bigger-than-me woman constantly points out how thin I am, it's a constant reminder to me that I am also not the "ideal" body type. I look at those images and see I fall short of that unobtainable dream body. Some reading this will think "No you're not" Well I've seen me naked and I'm telling you, friend, that I am not something you want for yourself. Trust me on this. 

This is one of those images. This is not healthy.

I know some of you, maybe one bird in particular will be like, "Oh Kee why were you bothering with people like that in the first place?" Well they were all I had CC. Bullied people often become bullies themselves. Those people did not like themselves and I was a reminder of something they couldn't achieve. That made me a target. 

I just want to make you understand that losing a few pounds is fine but please don't think that you need a body like mine to feel good about yourself. This body does NOT make me feel good about myself. Constantly reminding ANYONE of their weight, big or small, is not a nice nor healthy thing to do.

I am also writing this confessional because another one of my friends, who has a different disability and is a big busty girl, started to go to the gym. One of her "friends" said "Oh I'm surprised you know what a gym is for"

I say fuck you buddy!

I don't think you truly understand what a gym is actually for. Nor do many of the people who go there specifically to lose weight.

I have increased my mobility and range of movement. My circulation has improved. Breathing better. Better immune system. Improved posture leading to minor back pain. Most of all gaining a healthy appetite. All these wonderful things and more. Weight loss is a happy side effect of cardio and core strength training. 

I have spoken to many of my fellow gym goers and they are all there for different reasons. And you know what was last on their agenda? That's right: loss. 

They were all there to GAIN 

Italics, Bold, Underlined, CAPITALISED. 

Stamina, Muscle Strength, Mobility, Healthy Hearts, Confidence and one old lady said Vitality.  

And you know what, I have gained a vitality to myself that wasn't there before. I know that I don't need to cater to people who do not understand my body the way I do. I know it's me who needs to accept my body for the way it is not anyone else. I can walk 30 yards and not feel like crumbling up or crying my eyes out. My clothes don't feel like they are 100lbs weights. I don't get bruises on my hips from elastic. I can walk my dog. I have freedom from my body. Do you know how fucking good that feels? 

I'm allowed to take pride in the steps I took and the sacrifices I've had to make in order to achieve this. "My pain is different to yours, but it is still pain".

I can laugh now the anxiety I had about confessing my Gym activities has gone away. I'm still expecting some negative comments though, but I can tell you now, it hurt more because I wanted to be more like them. Y'know big and curvy. I suppose their argument would be the same:

 "don't think you need a body like mine to feel good about yourself". 

I may lose some friends but I have GAINED myself.

Adhesive Plaster 1- 0 Thigh Hair

Day One:

I had everything packed but I was stalling for time the morning of the surgery. My mum and brother had arrived to help me with my things but I said I hadn't finished packing. Must remember teabags. Must do the washing up. Must remember to hang the laundry. Stall for time. My partner couldn't leave work early to come see me before I left. He did try. Had to wait for email confirmation before he could leave the office. Before lunchtime, no chance, everyone else on the other end washing their noses in salad boxes. He was stuck waiting. I was stalling. It'll be okay. I am coming back in a few days. Right?

There is always a feeling of uncertainty when you go for an operation. But I wasn't worried about the risk of not being here anymore, I was more concerned about trying to console everyone else. Anyway, if something did happen they all knew Dr Ignorance's number and a horde would descend upon him if he fucked up.

I was late getting to the hospital for my 12:30 check in. But I wasn't bothered because theatre didn't start until 2pm and I had been told the week before a lady was due in before me, as her surgery would take less time and I was a special case. When I arrived, I was called in first to take my details. My mother wasn't allowed to come with me or wait in the reception area. I thought this was very strange. The nurse there informed me I was due in surgery first today and since I was late everything had to be hurried along. So I said my goodbyes to my mum and rang my Partner to tell him what was going on. So hurried and it felt wrong being rushed like that.

I was taken to a 'pod' which was basically a cubicle with a chair, a set of draws and a table in it. I was asked to disrobe and put a gown on. Seemed odd again. Told her my info and asked if I would be having a consultation and to sign a consent form. She was quite rude and said all that will be done after I got dressed. Seems a bit backward if you ask me. What if I changed my mind or something came up in my medical history that meant it wasn't possible to operate on me at the time? She left me to it. Didn't answer any of my questions. Talk about making you feel sure and confident.

A different health care assistant came in called Lisa. She was lovely and did answer all my questions and made me feel at ease. She went through all my file with me, typical hospital bureaucracy. It came to my allergies. No latex for me thanks. Oh this may cause a problem since the theatre is already prepared. I glance down and on the front of my file is a post-it note from the pre-assessment nurse last week saying I have a latex allergy and can the theatre be prepared accordingly. Hmm someone missed that bright pink note on the front of my file then? Lisa went away to inform someone. Came back 10 mins later.

"They're going to send the other lady in first since they need to change the room for you"

"Well yeah, I was already told I would be second in line today at my pre-op, for that very reason"

They had me waiting for about 2 hours. Urgh that bloody dragged. I could have been out in the waiting area with my mum and partner, who had finished work by then. So I called him instead. Had the olde 'typical NHS' banter conversation. They even left my file on the table. So I had a neb.

They had my old GP information from 7 years ago as the current one. Yet, had been sending results and reports to my new GP practice. No wonder stuff gets lost. They did have, however, a note from the last time I was in hospital, my allergic reaction to latex. Le sigh. What's the point of inundating medical professionals with record keeping if they can't be arsed to read them when it matters? Howweh man.

Next I met the anaesthetist. A small Indian gentleman, very pleasant. Had a bit of a heavy accent, but that wasn't the problem. He talked waaaay too fast. I only caught a few words. Started to get nervous again when he said the anaesthetic would only last as long as the surgery, about half an hour. Erm? What? Hip Arthroscopy takes about 2 hours plus they have to repair a possible labral tear. Have they got me confused with the first patient again? Ffs.

Then, in comes my favourite person, Dr Ignorance, who is sometimes Dr Complacent. But NOT TODAY! Dr Gameface, went over the consent form I couldn't help but mention making sure its all filled out properly. I still blame him for the MRI arthrogram incident. He didn't fill the form out properly so I never got the anaesthetic I was promised. Thus felt the needle being jabbed into my hip joint. Not. A. Happy. Bunny. He still hasn't said sorry nor thinks it was his fault. So this was my chance to let him know, I still blame him. I'm confident the form is in order and he leaves.

Lisa comes back in to keep me company. Presents me with a rather glamorous stocking. I tell her I'm not a fan of Dr Gameface. She laughs and asks me why I'm going through with this with him?

" I don't have to like him, as long as he does his job properly, I don't have to like him at all. If he fucks up a second time, they'll be hell to pay. " From her reaction he was probably still just in ear shot. I don't care. He clearly doesn't care about me as a person, I'm just another number. Hopefully a number in the 'success' column nonetheless.

My memory is a bit shoddy when they take me into the anaesthetic room. I do recall being very agitated at the anaesthesia nurse guy sticking things on me and talking while Chatty Anaesthetist is trying to ask me questions, and I can't understand a word he's saying. He jabs me with a large needle. That's the line in. Then injects me with, I'm assuming the sleeping drugs. They never tell you what they're injecting you with.

Useless buggers.

"Here we go" Zzzz

.

.

.

Laughing. Why is everyone laughing? There's some banter going on in the Recovery Room. There's a lady beside me, letting me know where I am. That it's all over.

Must have passed out. When did my Dad get here? I'm in a different room. My Beardy Warrior (my partner lol) is here too! It's so good to see them. Lots of words were passed over my head, about me but not to me. I was sooo damn tired. And thirsty. What the hell have they done to my throat? See you tomorrows and kisses. I would cry if I physically could. Keep pumping in fluids but no luck. Need sleeeep.

That's how broken up my experience of afterwards was. Couldn't tell you want the recovery banter was, but I was laughing too. The nurses kept coming to check my blood pressure and then told me to rest. Totally couldn't. They gave me Tramadol, which keeps me awake. Told them this too but they wouldn't take my word for it. Had to take it.

I was expecting to be in much more pain than I was. During surgery apparently they gave me seven shots of morphine. Nee wonder I was feeling sick. I react badly to that too. Couldn't keep water down, but couldn't produce saliva to eat or be sick properly. Needle in my hand killed. They had me in my own room but they didn't close the door, so I heard everything. I was the youngest person on the ward amongst the golden oldies getting their hip replacements, knee surgeries etc. TV's were loud, some poor lady was being sick all the time, and the woman opposite me, was hallucinating. Singing in her sleep. The acoustics of the hall and our open doors meant when she started snoring: it was like she was in the bed next to me :'(.

No Sleep. Make Kee a dull girl.

Well an extremely tired girl. Not having any sleep seems to amplify your pains. Urgh. Every time I felt those zzzz catching up a buzzer would go off or I would need to pee. All those fluids from earlier had to come out sometime :( kept asking for my dressing to be changed too but apparently it was fine...

Cheeky

One good thing about the silence and nurses assuming that I was asleep or assuming I knew more than I did. I found out I was due to be discharged the next day once the doctor and physio had been round to see me. I knew I had to get my muscles moving if they expect me to support myself. I had already researched what physio I would get after surgery. So I wriggled, arched and flexed just to loosen up and start the process.

It was about 4am when I gave up fighting the tramadol and just read a book my friend gave me. 'My sisters' keeper' not sure if it was the best thing to take into hospital with me but it was a pleasant distraction.

Day Two:

7:20am. Morning wake up call. Whole place stirs, night shift handover to morning shift. More blood pressure taken. My dressings finally changed.

Then about 9:30...

" Good morning, can you tell me your name and date of birth please?"

"Hello, who are you?"

This guy looks at me like how dare I have the audacity to ask him, his name! Of course it's the doctor but it's not Dr Ignorance or Gameface. This guy is Dr Incredulous. Informs me about the surgery I was in for, this I obviously know, why else would I have agreed to it? He doesn't really tell me what they found or if they repaired anything. Just that they removed the bump. I'm to be assessed by the physio and sent home once they are satisfied. Excellent.

It wasn't long after that I was given a nice pair of crutches to become my extra limbs for a good few weeks.

I have to say being back home is a godsend. I missed my sprung memory foam mattress. And Sleep. Couldn't sleep straight away though. I had both sets of parents arriving at different times to see me. Ingo (my partner) has been wonderful since I got home. Taking very good care of me. He even brought the bed downstairs, a necessary luxury for recuperation don't you think? Our house bunny seemed to think so...

Captain Kismet

I'm on to day 7 now and I haven't been in any pain apart from a slight strain in my lower back, but we all knew that wouldn't magically go away. Only time will tell if this has been a success. I haven't received an appointment for this intensive physio I was supposed to have nor any kind of check up since I was discharged from hospital. Cut and shut jobby?

Now this is all done with I can concentrate on my articles, stories and reviews I wish to share with you.

Take care.

Day Zero

"Preparation"

There's nothing like being prepared for anything. Sometimes you pack things you might not need or think not to bother because what ridiculous scenario will come up where i will need a pair of wire cutters, duct tape and a small can of WD40 when I'm going into hospital? I have learned, from my wonderful partner, that those ridiculous situations always crop up when you forget to pack those very essential items. And no, I haven't packed those things because I know He will have them on him anyway.

So for about 5 days prior to my surgery I've had to bathe in an anti-microbial wash provided by the Nurse to prevent the spread of MRSA. I even got a nify diagram to show my how to use it and wash myself with it. Smarts. It doesn't smell of anything and it's great from cleansing all those blackheads and oily skin. Might keep some saved for those damn stress spots I'm prone to when Insomnia kicks in after taking Tramadol all day. 

As well as packing some essentials for an overnight stay and maybe the weekend, part of my preparation has been, well, consoling my friends. I really appreciate them worrying about me it's nice to know that people care about me. But, shouldn't they be consoling me? I'm actually really okay about getting the surgery. It's been on the cards for about 7 months now, I've had time to come to terms with it, since it's happening to ME. But for some people, I love and care about deeply, it has had a funny affect on them. I don't feel the need to react in such a way to worry myself or cry myself to sleep.

I didn't choose for this to happen to me.

If I don't do this my condition will get worse and I will end up with the hips of a 70 year old woman before I'm 30. What am I waiting for exactly if I post-pone this? My life can't pick itself back up again until this is done. At the moment my recovery is in limbo, except it won't get any better without this surgery and yes there is a small chance it won't do anything at all. I am willing to take that chance and kick it in the balls. I want my life back. And if this is the only way to do it then fine, lets do it!

Still busy packing at the moment. I'm taking my own teabags dammit!

I have to leave a parting note to say Thank You to all my friends who have sent lovely messages to me over this past week and honestly, I am truly grateful. Love you guys. 

See you later, Keep Smiling.

Prologue of Whimsy

So I wanted to have a crack at writing a blog. But what the hell do I write about? Has someone else already done it? Would I truly be contributing to the online community with valuable unheard of information? Of course not, don't be daft.

Then I was shown a picture from memebase of this mock letter written to the Internet at large, describing a fairly attractive young woman who enjoys nothing better than playing games, reading comics and watching anime. She enjoys the company of geeky boys and will happily sit by them offering sexual favours so their hands are free while they play their favourite games. The letters ends yours sincerely and a small trollface appearing. At first the letter seems really sincere then it does come across a little far fetched. The joke being of course that this girl does not exist.

But she does exist.

I am a Girl that likes to play games, watch anime, read comics, loves Picard and Kirk equally, Japanese horror films and many more wonderful geeky things.

So where did this mock letter come from? Yeah I know it's intended as a joke but there are thousands of girl gamers out there. But I'm a rarity don'tcha know? Hey, I know the types your thinking of and as these guys put it http://www.gamesradar.com/the-top-7-girl-gamer-stereotypes/ I've gone through this list and I'm not in any of these categories. I guess the ones like me don't want to be found or have unfortunately been drowned out.

I'm very much interested in research into this kind of topic which spurred me to pick up this blogging malarkey. So here we are. To answer those questions: I shall write about myself as is the trend for all bloggers these days; I don't recall anyone writing about me in their blog and again, don't be daft.

All I'm offering is a different perspective of the gaming world from my eyes and a continuation of the work I was interested in when I did my degree focusing on Cybersociology. Which includes this whole business about gender-swapping in games, particularly MMO's, Game Addiction, and forget about this Boys V Girls crap. We all know there are some girls out there better at C.o.D than the boys, turns out we're much more competitive, we got more to prove. So why not, lets explore this avenue. I've got plenty of time on my hands to do so.

That's all rather academic so I will also fill in these spaces with my own reviews on games I've played or currently playing. “how do you have time to do all this?” I hear you say. Well, I've been suffering from a Chronic Pain disability for the past 12 months due to an injury. I am on the road to recovery but this may take over a year or I may never fully recover at all. Life.

Additional note: I have recently opted to have surgery in the hopes that it will aid in my recovery. Most of my blog entries were written months ago when I was flirting with the idea of starting a blog in case I wasn't able to post regularly due to being in hospital etc. And I have decided to document my time in hospital if any of you are so inclined to read about that too.

So all I have is time baby and I'm filling that time with playing games!

p.s The banner isn't finished and I am open to suggestions of any loveable characters you want me to make a likeness of to fill in the space :)