I told you that I hurt my back before we left on our trip to England.  I saw a physiotherapist and a doctor and finally the day before we left home I had a massage.

When I lived in Australia I had a massage guy that was fantastic but since I’ve lived in New Zealand I haven’t found anyone who always finds the right spots that are causing problems.  Not until this guy.

We spent a few minutes talking about what I’d had done since I started feeling crap and then he asked me to get on the table.  Good enough for most people but the guy is well over 6′ tall and he had to bring a chair over for me to climb on to get on the table.  Normally that isn’t a good sign because I don’t like dwelling on the fact that I’m shorter than most people.

I let it pass because I could tell in an instant that he was from Canada.  I’m from Maine so it was never far from Canada when I was growing up.

The massage went well and I could tell he was hitting all the right spots and then he said, “I’d like you to lie on your left side and draw your weenies up.”

I raised my head and must have had the most quizzical look on my face as I said, “I don’t have a weenie.”

He fell about laughing.  He was laughing so hard that he had to sit down.

“Darlin, I said wee knees.  I lived in Dunedin in the South Island for a long time and we say wee for everything.”

Ok, I had to laugh.

My back is much better and the flight from Auckland to Melbourne to Singapore to Dubai to London went off without a hitch.  We’re settled in the hotel and it’s my turn for the shower.

I know I haven’t lost enough weight even with the gastric band to deserve a new present but I got one anyway.  I got new contact lenses!

My husband got some new glasses and contacts last week and on the way home from his appointment I said, “I wish I could wear contacts but  was told I couldn’t.”

“When were you told that,” he asked.

“Umm, probably 20 years ago,” and I felt stupid when I said that.  I’d never bothered checking all these years when I got new glasses.

We went to pick up his contacts last Monday and I asked the optometrist to check my prescription and see if I could wear contacts.

“Sure, no problem at all, do you want me to order some for you?” she said.

I tried to hide the excitement from my voice because I didn’t want to look totally stupid for not realizing that things had improved over the last half of my life.  When I first started wearing glasses they couldn’t do anything for astigmatism with lenses.

They arrived yesterday and I tested them out at the office and it’s fantastic!  No more little boxes to look through.  I told my husband that it’s not MY fault that I never had contacts before now, it’s the optometrist’s fault for not telling me they were available!  That’s right, isn’t it?

I’ll certainly enjoy my holiday with my new eyes!

I haven’t written much lately because I’ve had a bum back.  I have heard about people with “lower back pain” for years but never ever thought it would happen to me.  We’re getting ready to go to England for my stepson’s university graduation and here I am barely able to move.  I was devastated!  I made an appointment with the doctor and with a physiotherapist and I’d have gone to a faith healer if I thought it would work but I’d probably have to have faith in them and I guess I don’t.

I’ve lived on anti-inflammatory drugs and codeine until I got so constipated that I hurt in back and in front too.  Then I got tramadol.  I hate taking drugs but I hate pain even more.  I don’t want to miss this trip because we’ve got plans to go to London, Glasgow, Paris, Salzburg and Rome.  The way I felt last week meant I couldn’t go at all.  I would have had to sit at home alone. snif snif  I was really upset.

Then yesterday it all started coming together.  The drugs started to work and the physio started showing results and today I can sit without pain and I can get up from my chair without wishing I had a crane next to my chair.

Another doctor’s appointment and another physio appointment and a massage just before I leave on Tuesday and I’m getting on the plane!

I have only one more antibiotic tablet to take — just one.  I don’t need a doctor to tell me that I’m nearly all mended, I feel it.  The nasty looking wound has turned to mildly gross, but my sparkle is coming back.  I jump out of bed when I wake up instead of feeling around to see what hurts today.

So, what did I do to celebrate?  I made an appointment to get a fill for my gastric lapband.  When I got banded back in November last year I was supposed to see my surgeon in 6 weeks to get my first fill. That’s where saline is injected through a small port that’s just under my skin.  The port is just above my belly button and to the left about an inch.  I can feel it if I poke around but it doesn’t bother me at all.

When I saw my surgeon after the 6 weeks, she said I’d lost over 20 pounds and I didn’t need a fill because I’d already lost more weight than I should have for my size.  I’m quite short and I wasn’t grossly obese, but I had diabetes and hypertension so I qualified for the band.

So, then I moved to New Zealand in December and continued losing weight until April when I started having horrible pain to the right of my stomach.  I thought I’d overeaten and the band was talking back.  No, it was gallstones.  After many trips to the hospital by ambulance and months of being on the surgical waiting list, I finally got it taken out.  That’s how I got the nasty infection, you see.

While I was so sick, I pretty much said, “Screw it, I’m going to eat all the comfort food I need.”  And I did.  Because I don’t have any fill in my band, as long as I chew everything really well, I can eat anything and as much of it as I want.  I’ve gained about 5 pounds, which isn’t horrible but it’s going the wrong way.

My surgeon (and most bariatric surgeons) are shockingly busy.  The first appointment I can get is November 28th at 8:30pm.  My last appointment in January was at 10:30pm.  I told the appointment clerk that I’d take whatever she had and then I’d make my travel plans to Australia.  That’s where I lived in November and where my surgery was.

I can’t wait to get back on the losing trail again.  Now that I’m feeling better, maybe I can do it without the fill, but I kept asking myself why I’d want to.  If I’ve got an aid inside me that will make it easier to control portions, I’m an idiot not to take advantage of it.

Life’s good again!

Unfortunately I have an icky case of MRSA in one of the wounds.  MRSA is the nasty staph superbug that’s resistant to most antibiotics.  You can get MRSA when you’re in the hospital.  I haven’t forgotten you but I need a teeny break to get better.  Send good thoughts. 

That’s what I call going for a pap smear to detect cervical cancer.  How many of you ladies are slackers and haven’t been yet this year?  Way too many I suspect.

I know it’s a nasty job but it’s one that pays great benefits in detecting any abnormality soon enough to fix you up right and proper.  Right now, make a note and stick it on your computer screen to call for an appointment tomorrow.  Don’t slag it off, do it.  It’s important for you and it’s important to your family that you take care of yourself.

My results came in today’s mail.  All things in that department are just fine, so I’ve got 6 months not to think about it and 6 months to dread the next one.