Post Surgery Part II

I would like to make something clear before I continue this post; the nurses on the ward were lovely, in particular one of the male nurses.  I never got his name, but he deserves special mention.  He is an example of how little things in nursing make a huge difference, but (assuming) due to budgets and staff shortages this is not always possible.

From arrival on the ward he was friendly, smiling, and wanted to make sure I was ok - he always seemed to have time and I never felt like a nuisance.  But the stand out moment for me was the night I nearly passed out from pain and had to have an oxygen mask for the night and an ECG.  I was obviously distressed and by this point my family had had to leave after visiting hours.  He came over and sat by the bed and held my hand during the ECG whilst the others took Obs and worried about terms such as "Bradycardic."  In my pain-addled state I really appreciated someone taking the time to keep me company and calm.

On Wednesday 1st July I was deemed fit for transferral to the Haywood Rehabilitation centre - and my first shower.  I was a bit worried about my dressings, but the nurses said they would be fine.  One thing is for certain, once you have had to shower in front of two women, you have very little inhibitions left - now things that seemed major - such as shaving legs lest the world see your natural state - are very trivial.  I no longer give a damn what people think!  Surgery - leave your inhibitions at the door!

Sitting up for the first time for the journey was uncomfortable but nowhere near on the pain level before.  Originally I had been told I would be transferred flat on a stretcher - but by this point I realised that what should happen not necessarily will (when your hospital notes get lost within the same building and your promised bed disappears you learn to deal with unexpected).

Arriving at the Haywood was like entering a shining beacon of joy - I have never experienced nurses like that before - no one seemed rushed or too busy for you, the wards seemed calm and quiet.  And to top it off, they said that if I needed a catheter I could have one - and seemed quite miffed that I wasn't given one on the last ward.  Seriously, the Haywood was such a nice place it almost felt like a home.  I guess this could be due to that some patients can be there for months at a time.

Having settled in, my Baclofen nurses visited me and told me more about the surgery (the tube went into my spinal fluid first go!) and increased the dose, as I was still getting spasms which were pulling on the staples.
Over the next couple of days this was increased again, as post-surgery swelling can dampen the effects of Baclofen.

On the Friday they said they were pleased with my progress, and that I could go.  I asked if I needed a discharge note, and they said no, I was free to go if I felt ready, or if I wanted to stay longer I could.  The Haywood = awesomeness.

Post Surgery Part I

I left the last post just after waking from surgery, but I will start this one off from the few minutes before - from what I remember.

Waiting outside the theatre, the last thing I remember is being injected with what the surgical staff referred to as "Happy medicine."  At the time I didn't think much of it, and then they asked me to start taking breathes from a mask.  I remember thinking after the first two inhalations "This isn't really doing anything..." and then on the third breath "Is this meant to be..."

Next thing I know I am waking up in the recovery area with an oxygen mask on my face, very very confused - wasn't I awake just a second ago?  The next thought was "What is that weird pumping noise...what is up with my legs?"  Looking down at my legs they seemed to be much bulkier than normal and inflating and deflating.  The following thoughts; "Did something go wrong?  What's up with my legs?  What the hell...wait, I have a pump!"...I'm thirsty..."

It turned out that my legs hadn't been replaced by bionic ones, but that post-surgical socks had been put on with a pump type device, that I assume massaged them to keep the blood flowing to prevent blood clots (I had these on for the next 36 hours, and damn were they annoying).

After returning to my ward and becoming more coherent after a few hours, I realised I needed the loo.  Really really badly.  In fact, for the next 12 hours I needed to pee practically every 20 minutes - I can only assume this must have been a side effect of the anaesthetic as I have no other explanation for it.  However, after surgery I was very very sore, and the complete opposite of mobile.  The surgeon had used staples to close the incision (Which I found out later was because they are meant to heal better and scar less) - these proved to be very very inflexible, and pulled at the slightest

Assimilation Complete

It has happened.  On the 30th of July at 9.30 am I became fully assimilated - but it almost didn't happen.

After spending the morning of admission trying to contact the ward I was meant to be staying on, to make sure a bed was ready (as they had told me to do), it was only when we were halfway to the hospital for the admission time that I managed to get through.  And that was when the nurse (without any hint of sympathy or compassion) told me that there was not a for me.  Oh, there was a theatre slot for me, but because there was not a bed, the surgery could not go ahead.

After trying repeatedly to get through to the nurse that this could not be, that my surgery was happening TOMORROW, that I had waited for TWO YEARS for this, that I had been told that there would be a bed, I had to hand the phone over to Ben as I was getting near speechless with anger and frustration.

I nearly gave up, but my parents carried on driving to the hospital, and for the next 8 hours, the Battle for the Bed commenced.  My parents and Ben were near seething with rage over the situation, and we pretty much refused to leave until it was sorted out.  The receptionist was sympathetic, and called the ward manager, and my parents went up to the ward to have words whilst Ben took me for a calming cup of tea.

The next few hours were spent waiting to hear from the site manager, who was trying to find a bed.  We then levelled up to the day room of the ward I was supposed to be on, and spent a good few hours there.  The key issue was finding a ward that would take me, due to my "extra needs" - even though I can look after myself perfectly well, it would just be post surgery I would need looking after, but to be honest, anyone would need help after surgery!

Finally, after arriving at 1pm, at after 9 in the evening, a bed was found in the older wing of the hospital on a non-neurosurgical ward - it even had its own bathroom and shower!  By this point we were all well and truly knackered, and couldn't give a stuff what ward it was on, at least I had a bed.

Things brightened up, as I was told I was first on the theatre list the next morning, and so, at 9.30 am I was wheeled into theatre for the Baclofen Pump insertion - it was all a bit surreal to think that it was finally happening, after all the waiting, the phone calls, the lost letter, the trial complications - I was finally getting it.

Waking up from surgery was a very bizarre experience - wrapping your head around the idea that there was now a piece of technology inside me is hard to do when you are all foggy from anaesthetic.  I will cover post-surgery and recovery in the next series of posts though, I don't want to skim over these as I think these are quite important to document, I just procrastinate a lot!

One Week to Go!

The countdown has started!  Just one week to go and I will hopefully *fingers crossed* be having surgery.  This Thursday is my pre-op appointment for blood tests, MRSA swabs, and an ECG (if necessary).  I am working all this week, so that will help take my mind off it and make the week go quickly.

There is so much to get organised - for instance, a new bed, as the current one makes my Occupational Therapist cry as it is impractical (too low and also falling apart), plus the kitchen needs to be reorganised as the mugs are all on the top shelf and some of the dry foods need moving down too.

It's finally happening, woo!

MAJOR UPDATE

Ok, so Hell hasn't frozen over, nor have the Gods torn the skies asunder - BUT I have a date.  Yes, you read correctly, a DATE for the operation - 30th July THIS MONTH.

Yesterday after my ranty blog post I decided to force myself to make another phone call to my Baclofen nurse for an update.  She said due to cancellations everything had been pushed back and my surgery would most likely be in September.  Even more subdued than earlier in the day, I sent an email with the bad news to Ben.  Literally within seconds of sending the email, my phone rang.  It was the nurse calling me back.  She apologised, and said she had re-checked the diary, and that I would be having surgery 31th July.

This was followed by stunned silence.

Me:  ...What, as in, this year, July?
Her:  Yes, this July.
Me:  No way.  You're not joking are you?
Her:  No, that is the date (slight laughter in her voice).
Me:  OH MY GOD I AM GETTING THE PUMP.

After frantically phoning around every family member possible, I noticed an voicemail from the nurse saying that it was the 30th, not the 31st.  EVEN BETTER.  I then spent a large part of the afternoon wandering around the house in a state of dazed excitement.

Then Ben and I celebrated with delicious curry and TedTalks.  Awesome.

Still Waiting

With increasing frequency I have been asked the question "When are you having the surgery?"  Originally I would reply with an optimistic "in a month or two hopefully," but now I am considering responding with "When Hell freezes over and the Gods tear the sky asunder."

My patience is starting to wear thin.  Looking back when I started this blog, it was over two years ago.  Two.  Fracking.  Years.  And I have only recently made progress so far because it was I who did the incessant phone calling, chasing up letters, appointments, and waiting lists.  It was I who decided to make the enquiry about changing hospitals to speed up the process - no one mentioned to me it might be quicker until I joined a rehab unit and one of the nurses casually mentioned it.  I only changed as a last resort - a big decision since I had been with my original hospital since I was 17, and was like stepping into the unknown.

It is the constant phoning that is testing my patience.  I have said before, both places probably think I am a crazy stalker patient, but if I wasn't so persistent, I would have never found out that I was never put on the waiting list for a Baclofen trial, that the letter mysteriously went walkies in the post.  Don't get me wrong, the NHS is a brilliant thing to have, considering the fortunes I would have to spend in a system like the US, but good grief do they make you work for it.

My family and now fiancé are frustrated too - my mum and fiancé have been to most of my consultations, trials, appointments, etc.  He has put up with moving around finding The Perfect Place suitable for when the pump finally happens, supporting me when I went part-time at Uni, thinking that This Would Be The Year.  Thinking about it, everything has been in preparation for it, including the acceptance of the changes it will bring.  But stretching out the waiting process is horrible, bearing in mind my phenol injections have worn off, I am on no kind of medication, and my increasing tetchiness must make me a pain to live with.

So, this week, again I will be ringing up just to get a hint of a date, as I am just not going to assume "things will happen."

Rant over, but it felt GOOD.  Now when I go home I will probably vent further anger shooting some Banshees in Mass Effect 3.

Hotels and Accessibility

I thought I would do a quick post to kill time whilst on a long train journey.

The Ibis room in Glasgow I just stayed at was so close to being accessible, but failed for a very simple, fixable reason. 

The bathroom was excellent - wet room style with shower stool and plenty of grip bars. 

However, getting to the bathroom would be a problem for anyone with a wheelchair larger than mine (a Quickie Helium to give you an idea).  The gap between the bedroom door once opened, the end of the bed, and the wall was a squeeze for me, and therefore needs to be much bigger in order to accommodate a variety of wheelchairs.

That is pretty much it, and by changing the layout I am sure it could be fixed.

Engaged!

Yup, back in February. And now that University is over and my dissertation is in, I can start planning it properly - my first wedding dress appointment is in June. *EXCITEMENT*

The Waiting Game

Sometimes you have to take things into your own hands and make things happen. Finding the waiting times for the Baclofen pump surgery ridiculous, I rung up my surgeon's secretary and tried to get an ETA on waiting times - they were not good. I could be married by that point and still not have it (oh yeah, by the way, I got engaged, woo!). So I asked if I changed hospitals, would the waiting time be shorter, and BINGO! They gave a rough waiting time of 8 to 12 weeks - GOOD GOD. If I had known that I would have changed waaaay sooner.

So I am now on the waiting list at the new hospital, and in two days time I meet with my new surgeon so I can get to know who he is. This is awesome news, but I am going to remain cautiously optimistic as with hospitals things can change very quickly. But still, YAY!

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly Part II

The Ugly (cont.): I can only assume the pain blinded me to all sensible decisions, as even after that I STILL decided to travel back on the train. Instead of, you know, the sensible choice of going to the nearest A&E. One bumpy taxi ride later, we are nearing home (my street at the time was full of speed bumps), when I finally decide we better head to A&E. The taxi driver was awesome, and did his best to drive has carefully as possible.

Once at A&E, it was a loooong wait (without pain killers) before I got seen, with Ben having to explain the procedure I had had earlier. Over and over again. Finally I was admitted, and by this point the spinal headaches had kicked in, which as anyone who has had needles in the spinal area will know, are the WORST. HEADACHES. EVER.

And so, sweet, sweet pain relief in the form of morphine arrived.

The Good: I finally got out of hospital just over a week later, all scans and blood tests fine, to come home to a brand SHINY NEW WHEELCHAIR! Yup, my Quickie Helium had arrived - good timing, right? The move into the new bungalow happened a few weeks later, so even more great stuff!

Also, my re-trial was set for a later date, and this procedure went without incident and was 100% successful! The best way of describe the feeling over Baclofen is of a warm, floaty feeling and most chilled out I have ever been ever. If they could have put the pump in then there I would have been all "HELL YEAH!" I also slept like a log that night, which never happens unless I am absolutely knackered.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly Part I

Has it really been September since I updated this? Damn. Apologies, but what with work, my dissertation, moving, hospital appointments, this just slipped off my radar. So I will try and keep this as to the point as possible, but there is a lot to cover!

The Good: Last I posted, I was about to have Phenol Injections - and the procedure went exactly as planned, it was a little painful, but having needles injected into your thighs would never be a pleasant experience! After doing some bendy tests, my consultant was happy with the results.

The Bad: The Phenol injections have now worn off, boooo. They didn't last as long as I thought they would, which is a shame.

The Good: Following this I also had my Baclofen trial shortly after, which involved injecting baclofen into the spinal fluid. I have taken a video of the procedure, which I might upload some time in the future, but I know some people find medical prodecures and big needles iffy.

The Bad: The trial had to be stopped halfway through as they couldn't get any spinal dluid out, so were not able to procede, again, booooo. This was after the needle had been inserted, wiggled about, taken out, re-inserted, wiggled about, etc, in about 4 or 5 different places in my lower spine. At one point the nedle brushed a nerve ending, and pain shot down my left leg. FUN. So after all this fun having needles repeatedly inserted into my spine, the procedure couldn't be completed! No fault with my consultant, she was lovely and doing the best she could for it to be as painless as possible.

The Ugly: Having gone home in some mild discomfort, and napped at my parents for a bit, we decided to head back home. This involved catching a train at The Dreaded New Street Station, which, in hindsight, was a terrible idea. The mild discomfort had now gone up a level, but all hell broke loose when I decided to use the loo before catching the train. Now the disabled loo there, is basically, scary in most cases, as the light is on a timer and will switch off by itself - very annoying if you are not ready to leave, not to mention the scary noise of the air freshner coming on! So what is the worst thing that could happen? Getting on the loo was fine - then the pain kicked in. I will refer you to this:

Hyperbole and a Half's Scale of Pain

The pain was probably a 8-9 Yes, on the loo, in the dark, and unable to transfer back to my chair because the slightest movement was searing agony. My screams could probably be heard throughout New Street station. If I wasn't in so much pain I probably would have been mortified when I was finally rescued.

Hospital Updates et al

Quickly adding this onto the blog, as Something Important is happening tomorrow which I haven't got round to posting about.

As briefly mentioned, I have been going to a rehabilitation unit for Physio and Occupational Therapy, which has been interesting, fun, tiring, but all the people there are lovely and has been going well (albeit a couple of dramas, but anywhoo). I have attempted pottery, with one successful piece (if slightly childish looking), a complete disaster of a teapot (very structurally unsound), and I am now attempting another pot.

The Big News is that I will get my Phenol Nerve Block injections tomorrow, and then on the 19th I will have my Baclofen day trial - woah! I have just realised that a few posts ago I never said what the last minute Dr appointment was about. Well it was to get the above sorted out, as my consultant could see my patience was wearing thin.

To put it succinctly as possible, the Phenol nerve block will reduce the tightness in two of the worst offending muscles groups in my legs, and also act as a stop gap whilst waiting to get the Baclofen Pump. Try and imagine a bass beat being pumped under your skin and into your nerves and that is kind of how it feels. Freaky but cool. The anesthetic nerve trial proved successful (giggling is apparently an unusual reaction to this), so the go ahead was given for the full on nerve block.

The nerve block should last up to 12 months, and will take away some of the supporting tone in my legs, so this will be interesting to see how it turns out.

Calvert Trust

This was going to be a long rambling post, but my diary is so packed right now I don't really have time or energy for posts, so doing this in between phone calls at work!

So, where to begin...The weekend at the Calvert Trust in the Lake District was brilliant, even better than I expected, and I did things I thought I would not be able to do!

We arrived on the friday, and after a mild panic that the bus had gone without us, picked up by one of the Trust's vans. Arriving at the centre, the bedroom was amzing, with a view looking over the lake and fields (which had sheep running all over them, so cute!)

I could go on forever about the weekend, so I will try to be as succinct as possible. The Friday evening was spent on a ramble up the hill behind the centre, looking over the lake, followed by a quick dip in the Hydrotherapy pool, which had a sauna as well, complete with floaty equipment. True to their word, dinner was a 3 course meal of proper, hearty food.

The Saturday morning was spent doing all things climbing, from abseiling backwards down a steep slope in a wheelchair, the Leap Of Faith - jumping/staggering onto a trapeze bar and swinging from a great height across the climbing hall, so my piece de resistance - the climbing wall itself. A few years ago I had attempted one had failed miserably, but with the wall at a slight incline, and with a starting boost and encouragement, I got all the way to the top! The abseil down was actually more terrifying, but yay, I did it!

As a result of this success I have gone a bit adrenaline crazy and started challenging myself in other areas (but more on that in other posts).

The rest of the day was spent Horse Riding and Archery, where a) I did not fall of the horse, and b) actually managed to hit the target!

The day ended with another huge dinner, a nice dip in the hydro pool, and spending time confusing the sheep opposite the centre.

Sunday morning I faced my enemy...water. For today was the canoeing activity. Having had some not encouraging experience with water based activities, I was cynical I would enjoy the session. However, with not one, but TWO life jackets on (one to keep me afloat, the other to stop me tipping over onto my face and causing panicked flailing of limbs), and placed on what was promised the most untippable canoe, I was ready.

And I actually enjoyed it and we rowed over to the other end of the lake for a nice cuppa.

After this most of the others started to head off home, but a few of use used the afternoon to go on a wheel/walk into Keswick and for a drink, a nice way to round off the weekend.

So, all in all, it was a brilliant weekend, and I now have mad ideas of what else I want to do! I will definately be going back, dragging with me as many people as possible. Pictures WILL be promised eventually, but I do not have access to them on my work computer. Plus I have plans for them.

Ok, this still was quite a long post, so just imagine how long it would have been if I had gone into every tiny detail. Like sitting through your Aunt's holiday photo collection in painstaking detail.

Way Overdue

It has been over a month since I last posted, where I left it hanging with me off to the Lake District. The reason for this is that no sooner than I had returned everything that could happen at once, kicked off.

1) I started an online course in Python Programming.
2) The job offer I had been waiting for rung me to say I had got the job(woo!, also argh!).
3) Physiotherapy and Occupational Therapy started again. A few weeks into this and I was referred to the day rehab unit two days a week.
4) I was meant to start working on a University module assignment retake.
5) A new family arrival in the form of Lulu (Guinea Pig shaped!).

So you can see, things have been a bit hectic lately! Because there is a lot to update on, I'm going to split it up into separate blog posts for readability, so apologies for mass-postings.

Off to the Lake District!

I am so excited right now!  As I type this I am on the train heading up to the Lake District, to the Calvert Trust Centre near Keswick.I would have written about this sooner but things have been a little manic lately!

For those of you who don't know, the Calvert Trust is an adventure activity holiday centre for disabled people and their family, friends, et al.  The lovely folks there, through Zurich are funding my place for the weekend, so yay! 

Just got one more train connection and then we will arrive in Penrith, where we'll be picked up from the station.

*exciteeeed*

That old Adage

Lately it has been a case of waiting for one bus to arrive and then several arriving at once!  Where do I start...well a good place would be the baclofen pump.  Wondering what the heck was going on with my referal, I rang up the neurosurgeon's secretary to see where I was in the waiting list.  To cut a long story (and several phone calls) short, my referal got mysteriously lost in the post and the secretary had no idea who I was.

...riiiight.

More phone calls and a day later she rings me to say that I am now on the waiting list but it is unlikely I will get seen by September.

I HAVE BEEN WAITING SINCE FEBRUARY.

So today I rang my baclofen assessment unit and explained the situation to them and they thought it was pretty ridiculous.  While I was on the phone one of the baclofen therapy nurses told the person on the other end that they had something to discuss with me and could I come over as soon as a space was available?

Turns out that space is tomorrow, so here I am at my parents the night before wondering what it could possibly be about.

In addition to this I have had visits from Occupational Health, Social Services (which confirmed what I knew, my bathroom is deeply un-cripple friendly), and physiotherapy appointments, plus my wheelchair quotation finally arriving AND that I can get funding to go to the Calvert Trust...phew!

Insert Title Here

Last week I went out with friends to a pub, which turned out to be so disability unfriendly it was funny. You know when you encounter situations is so bad you end up laughing at it? This was one of those.

Having noted that the toilets were up a set of stairs, and that the platform lift was the home of high chairs, we asked the staff if they could move them off the lift so I could use it. This was the point when I found out that the reason the high chairs had overtaken it - the lift hadn't worked in years - brilliant! Apparently the head office were aware of this but hadn't done anything about it despite being told a number of times.

To the stairs! With the help of Ben and a drunk (but lovely!) customer I got up the stairs, clutching the banister and Ben lugging the chair up the stairs, and made my way to the loo.

Ah, the loo. On first glance seemingly harmless but on actual use an accident waiting to happen. As I was leaning on the drop down bar, the following happened:

Yes, that is the drop down bar on the floor, which I believe is the incorrect place for it. Luckily I was holding onto another bar as well, which DIDN'T fall out of the wall, otherwise it could have been a painful face-plant to the floor.

The almighty crash was followed by Ben's voice floating through the door:

"Sanchia? Are you all right?!"
"I'm fiiiine...I may have broken something..."

Fleeing the scene of chaos, I returned to my table whilst he went to explain that their accessible toilet may be a bit, erm, broken.

The staff themselves were lovely though and gave us the head office's number.


I didn't get a free pudding though, grrr.

Ouch! Messageboard Update

The BBC has decided to grace us with an update about the closure of the Ouch! board, and try and allay our fears:

More absolute tosh

...We did consider the impact on users before making the final decision, though these types of editorial decisions are not subject to the public sector equality duty.

Safety and privacy have proven to be big talking topics over the last couple of years in social media circles and many empowering improvements have been made as a result. If you've been scared away in the past, it might be worth taking a new look.

I highly doubt they did "consider" how it would affect us, as no one was asked as far as I'm aware! Also, the way the blog talks down to us about social networking sites not being the big bad wolf users fear is, to be blunt, a load of crap.

What they obviously have not taken into account is mental health issues - what the BBC see as not a big issue - just find a new place! - could be for some people, very destabilising. To put it figuratively, imagine the Ouch! board is a big security blanket, one that makes us feel secure and safe in the knowledge that we can post bluntly and openly about what is up with us. Using Facebook for this exposes your personal identity to anybody else using the group, or anyone who cares to find out. Additionally, you can not make accounts under a false name - at risk of being banned.

The BBC are essentially taking that security blanket, ripping it to shreds, and throwing us a manky, threadbare rag.

BBC closing Ouch! Messageboard

So, the BBC has come to the decision to close the Ouch! messageboard. For those of you who know what this is, you are probably really pissed off right now, and for those who don't know - it is the only section of the BBC where peopleof all disabilities can come together and talk about life, the universe and everything. For others it is the only communication they get with the outside world, and a place where people can talk anonymously without being judged.

Yet the BBC feel that the concept of such a messageboard is antiquated and not worth their resources:

What a load of pish

The web and BBC Online have changed a lot over the last decade and we believe it's now time to close the Ouch! messageboard. You regularly tell us that our current service doesn't always deliver the kind of interaction and relationships you want and, indeed, the BBC realises there are now many more effective ways to involve its audience. Social networking is immensely enabling and has outclassed what we can provide in terms of specialisms, privacy and personal connections for this community. Plus it brings great control: you are able to block unwanted users and manage your personal interactions more immediately and effectively.

Ian Hunter, Managing editor of BBC Online, recently wrote a blog entry about the BBC's approach to messageboards and social media explaining how we intend to move forward. Ouch! will continue to be a place where you can feedback on disability matters alongside the content on our blog, via Facebook and Twitter.

Hmmm, funny, I don't remember anyone being consulted about this. Messageboards and social networking sites are completely different things with totally different ways of communicating, lacking the anonymity that people get from a board. Plus many Ouch! users find Facebook an intimidating place and are uncomfortable with the idea of posting on such a site.

But, fear not, fellow Ouch! user, we can we have a month to adjust to this change and "pop along" to this thing called Facebook and acquaint ourselves with it, as told in possibly the most patronising part of the blog post:

The messageboard will close on Wednesday 6 July. That gives us almost a month to help you find each other again. In the final week, we will see how this process has gone and help out if need be.

We have our own Ouch! Facebook page and we encourage you to pop along there now and 'like' us; a quick and easy way of staying in touch with your online friends. When the board has closed, you can continue to comment on our blog with your messageboard login.

I don't know if this is just me, but it almost feels like we are children they are chiding along gently, like a parent persuading their kid "don't worry about moving, I'm sure you'll stay in touch!"

Pfft. This move will only break up a well established community and alienate long time users.

So, if you care about the Ouch! board, or simply want to help us stop the closure of it, please go to the petition here and sign your support.

Thank you.

A shout-out to

This post is to say thank you to Catherine from comeone-letsroll who gave me this award:



She also listed me as one of her favourite blogs at the moment, which is really sweet as I am still relatively new to this whole blogging shenanigans. You should check out her blog too, as not only is it pretty looking, but very funny too. She also seems to like cooking and all things nom nommy, so thumbs up to that too!