Big News

Now, depending whether you have read this blog forwards or backwards, you will have an entirely different take on whether this news is positive or negative, lol. Firstly, no, I am not pregnant. Secondly, no, it's not bad news either.  Hoorah.

There are, in fact, 2 pieces of big news. The first big news relates to Mrs Bee's Emporium.

Here is a potted history for anyone who has popped over from my Facebook page (www.facebook.com/mrsbeesemporium if you want to pop the other way!)

History

Dom and I were both made redundant from our jobs as teachers about a year ago. It's been a bit of a stressful year with that and a few other things (my Dad being diagnosed with Dementia, my Mum having a knee replacement and needing me to be their carer - etc etc.) To be honest, both Dom and I struggled with our place in the world after, we both struggled a bit with anxiety and depression too, as the school takeover thing had literally happened overnight. We're loads better now, but spent quite a while wondering what we'd do next (and, if I'm entirely honest, with a bit of "why us?" thrown in too.)

A few years ago I had made a little extra on the side knitting and sewing, so I decided to go back to that as its something I genuinely love. I trained to make bridal and prom dresses and I was genuinely blessed by an amazing reaction, and for that I will be eternally grateful. It really was a bit of sunshine in our lives.

In order to get Dom out of the doldrums, I started asking him to help me out with jobs (other than the childcare!) and he started to get his old confidence back. We eventually decided that he would come into the business too and we'd start a new range that he would manage -- still lovely, stylish, bespoke gift wear, but things that we could make using a professional embroidery machine. I would still continue to handmake the luxury, bespoke range. This seemed like a plan so he went on some business courses, and then put the work into setting up a Limited Company and sourcing all the materials we'd need. We decided we couldn't sit around and wait for life to happen to us, so we'd invest most of the rest of our savings into setting up this new venture.

I had a manageable customer list too, and was able to close my list for Christmas early, with your order included. Everything looked like it might be getting better.

Then I got sick.

The First Piece of Big News:

We have launched the second arm of the business! Whilst I am recovering and pottering around the studio, Dom has been working his socks off setting us up as a Limited Company. Last Friday our ***awesome*** embroidery machine arrived and we have been playing ever since. Here is a taste of what is to come:

We will be producing a line of gorgeously machine embroidered, personalised t shirts, bags, aprons, tea towels and soft toys. We will sell them online and at local craft markets around the Hull and East Yorkshire area.

I am so, so proud of Dom. He really has shown huge strength of character over the past few weeks whilst supporting me through my ill health, running the home, dealing with the children and still putting together this new venture.

It's a bit scary, I will admit. We decided that we could not wait around for life to happen to us, so we invested pretty much all the money we had left in the world and decided we'd give it all we'd got. I don't know if it will work, but I do know that Dom and I work together well, and our skills compliment each other, so it was worth a punt. We don't want to run a multi million pound enterprise, we want to run a business that gives us a decent work/life balance, that enables us to give our children the time they deserve and that gives us the luxury of being able to use our creativity each day. As long as we can pay the bills, I would be very, very happy with that. Fingers crossed.

Last night I went to bed having (yet another) moment of hyperventilation. I came across a quote that seemed apt, and I want to share it here:

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed 

by the things you didn't do than the things you did do. 

So throw off the bowlines. 

Sail away from the safe harbour. 

Catch the trade winds in your sails. 

Explore. 

Dream. 

Discover."

Mark Twain

Dom is currently preparing all our stock, ready to be photographed at the end of the week. I will share the lines with you as we get ourselves more into gear. We will be selling through our Facebook Page, Etsy, Folksy and Dom will be attending some local Christmas Fayres. Please get in touch if you'd like an original Christmas present for someone special.

The Second Piece of Big News

I am having my hysterectomy on the 25th November! That is only a couple of weeks away! Eep!

So, in some ways, it probably has come at a pretty bad time. That said, I have felt so unwell for the majority of 2015, and I will be so glad to recover. I know that recovering from major abdominal surgery (in which I am losing 6, possibly 7 organs) is going to be a pretty big deal. But it does mean I can stop the chemo, which means I can lose the side effects, which means I can lose the medication that controls the side effects - and so on. I am praying that the endo hasn't spread too widely (once it has left the uterus and spread into the abdominal cavity it can self perpetuate, even without a uterus. So the more contained it is, the less likely I will need continuing surgery.)

I did not get a diagnosis last week after my cystoscopy. My bladder was extremely angry looking - it looked like it had measles and many, many of the lesions were red raw and bleeding. That would explain why I was peeing blood! But, again, at least it is not cancer. Hooray.

The Consultant wanted me to keep the catheter until I have recovered from the surgery, so the party bag and I will have at least another 3 months together. I do not know if my bladder will wake up once there is more room in my pelvis -- I very much hope so. I think my right kidney is permanently damaged now, sadly. It's very much a "wait and see" diagnosis.

That said, I have been feeling very much more positive about it since I knew it wasn't anything too awful (I was very much afraid of the "big C.") Kidney failure is nothing to be sniffed at, but I am on the other side of it now, and very soon I will be waving goodbye to at least some of the medical regime that has dominated my life for the past few months. It's OK, really. 

And that was my second piece of big news. I am feeling very positive, on the whole. I am very sad that I have had to take a big break from my work, having worked so hard to get momentum going. However, there is nothing I can do, so I am trying to go with the flow and not stress. I am so proud of my husband, though. He really has been the kindest, gentlest, most loving man and I could not have got through the last few weeks without him. I hope, with all my heart, that his new venture is a massive success.

Much love,

Claire x

A Journey of A Thousand Steps

The problem with a journey of a thousand steps is that you have to decide when to start telling your tale. Start too soon, and you don't know you're on a journey at all. It's just Every Day Life. Leave it too long and you miss the nuances, the details and the things that make it charming and tragic. You risk minimising the experience, and then feel the burning shame of regret for ever letting it have bothered you. Yeah, I had depression. Yeah, I know millions do too. Yeah, it took me a good couple of years to recover from that having happened to me (OHMYGOD WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!)

This year I used my blog as a platform to challenge the Hull Marathon about their inclusivity stance. It got a lot of coverage and interest, although not a lot of movement from Hull Marathon, sadly. Little did I know, as I was using my blog to make my points, fate was laughing at my expense. I wish I believed in Voodoo or Hexes; it would make this easier.

I stopped training for the marathon mid August. I was too unwell. I had run several long, long runs (16, 18 miles) having had to spend most of the day in bed in preparation for the effort, and then needing to take several days to recover. There is a balance point and, even though I hated myself for it, I realised that it was all pain and no reward. It took me the best part of a month to admit to myself that I had given up.

The night before the marathon I had such severe pelvic pain I was admitted to A&E. They, like I, assumed it was my gynaecological issues (adenomyosis, endometriosis and ovarian cysts). I was sent away with Tramodol and an appointment for the emergency gynae clinic.

That night I went to bed, the same as  every night for the last 41 years.

I have never peed again.


I have had two months of hospital admissions, A&E, inpatients, invasive and degrading tests, pain and catheters. Two months of feeling dreadfully unwell. Two months of being entirely absorbed by my bodily excretions. Who knew you could become so knowledgable about piss?

It has been a profound shock to cease to be unable to perform a bodily function that is necessary for life. If I had lived a hundred years ago, I would be dead now. That is a very strange and uncomfortable thought.

I've not blogged because I don't have a diagnosis yet. The gynae stuff is still there. I am still taking Prostap (a chemo injection that is used in cases of Prostate cancer, that also seems to help endometriosis sufferers) and still experiencing all the side effects that that generally causes. It's horrible. I have not felt well since starting this regime. Now I have the urological stuff happening too. So far, my kidneys have proven to be pretty much fucked (one is shrivelled and does very little - "atrophic" being the proper medical terminology and the other, good kidney has substantial scarring and cysts.) My bladder is fucked - the muscles have given up. They don't do a darned thing. That's atrophic too. I feel for that good kidney, scarred as it is, dragging along its atrophic twin and sibling. That good kidney, with all its battle scars and lumps and bumps, is what keeps me between life and death.

That is a very strange, very uncomfortable feeling.

Tomorrow I am having a cystoscopy with the Consultant - he basically shoves a camera up your pee hole and has a nose around. I am at once horrified and curious. Its not so much the dropping your knickers to anyone who asks (and, believe me, I am entirely brazen about this now) but the feeling of being invaded by someone you don't know. Ugh. The one thing that I am anxious about with the hysterectomy I am due next month is the idea of someone accessing my vagina whilst I am unconscious. I *know* its surgery and I *know* they're professionals. This comes from a deeper place and the very thought of it makes my blood run cold.

That said, I have been peeing blood for two days and pretty much unable to sit down. I want to look my enemy in the eye, so to speak. I don't know if mine has eyes. It has horns, I am pretty sure. I am very curious to see this bladder that has caused me so much trouble of late.

The diagnoses range from "it'll get better on its own" to a gynae prolapse, to cancer and MS. It is very hard to get your head around the difference in severity. I am trying not to think too much about it, which is pretty much impossible. I have already told my husband that he does not have to stay with me if I have some awful, disabling, lifelong illness. At 3am it didn't feel like I was in the throes of melodrama, although I am embarrassed to commit it to paper now.

I started this blog post in the hope it'd be light and witty and amusing. However, within a couple of hundred words, I am staring humourlessly at the truth I have been trying hard to avoid (except when it's 3am, natch.)

Fuck.