After nearly two years apart, Darrell and I are finally back together. It has taken many months of planning to get to this stage. Getting on a plane, especially from Australia, isn't the relatively easy undertaking it once was. With the country only allowing a limited number of people in, through a quota system, and even less out, flying from Australia has become a rather daunting task. Thankfully, Darrell was able to secure a place on one of the few flights leaving the country and is now back in the UK.

His flight left Perth, Western Australia on the 15th September, flying to Singapore, where he had a stop over of six hours. Like most things these days, his experience was different to normal. On arrival, he was given a green wristband and filtered through to a secure waiting area. Coming from Perth, where there is little to no COVID, he has been lucky enough to avoid the worst of the Coronavirus restrictions in place. On leaving Australia, flying to Singapore, he was fortunate to be on a plane with just twenty-five other people. Flying between Singapore and London was an altogether different experience, however, and to his horror the flight was packed.

To say Darrell is nervous of COVID-19, would be an understatement; one has to remember, he has lived in a bubble for the last two years. As an onlooker, viewing the unfolding pandemic across the World, he has been subjected to the terrible scenes played out in the UK and was understandably terrified at what he could be walking into. Sitting on a plane full of passengers, was an anxiety inducing experience, he isn't keen on repeating anytime soon.

With most airport facilities closed or restricted, flying isn't the enjoyable part of a holiday it used to be. Darrell's brief stopover in Singapore was purely to facilitate his onward journey to London. Having been double jabbed, and tested in Australia at a cost of $150.00 before he left, he was  as safe as he could be. Equally, other passengers should have been similarly protected, so one can only hope, there are no repercussions from the flight, and he will remain COVID free. In order to comply with Government rules, he will have to take a PCR test today, which will show if he has been successful in avoiding COVID on his long thirty-six-hour journey.

After a delayed flight from Singapore, Darrell arrived in the UK at 5pm on Thursday and got a coach to The Hard here in Portsmouth; he was home by 10.30pm. To be honest, it was a rather strange experience, being reunited with my husband, during the middle of a pandemic. We have of course hugged, but because of the nature of his journey, we have had to sleep separately for the first few days. If anything, it does make for interesting times.

Things have changed in Britain since both of us have lived here together. Darrell's arrival has signified the beginning of a return to normality for us; we have to immediately start rebuilding our life in Britain. 2015 was the last time we had a 'normal' family existence, just before we left for Spain and as we have discovered, much has changed.

Darrell has had some difficulty sorting out his paperwork, for his right to live and work in the UK. Since he last lived here, a new biometric card has been introduced and in order for him to gain employment, we need to apply for this new document, at a cost of £229.00. It looks likely that we will have to have his old 'Indefinite Leave to Remain' visa transferred to his new passport also. These are just more stumbling blocks to our life in the UK, something we are well-used to, after being together twenty-six years.

When Darrell was granted his 'Indefinite Leave to Remain' visa in 2001, we understood, this would be the last hurdle we would have to cross. However, things have changed in Britain dramatically, especially since Brexit. We are now faced with yet more challenges, as we navigate this new United Kingdom, which once again leaves us in a precarious position. Darrell's right to live and work here still remains, but the paperwork needed to prove this has also altered, creating comparable obstructions to those we experienced twenty years ago.

It really does feel like we are having to restart our life together once again, which on the surface is quite unsettling. We do have knowledge and understanding on our side and have been here before, both in Britain and Spain, so we just have to continue to persevere and work towards our goals in a sensible, measured way. The biggest mistake would be for us to panic and do something we regret, a knee-jerk reaction to a 'hopefully' solvable situation. For now, we will survive, as we always have, and will continue to work towards the productive and fulfilling life we both desire. The next few months will once again be hard, demanding, and testing, but as ever, our fortitude and love for one another will see us through, with a little bit of help and support from all of you; Our journey will continue, albeit in circumstances we could never have predicted.

We all have those times when we are feeling low and just don't want to communicate with the World. These are the difficult periods that we would rather forget, the days we lock ourselves away from everyone and the times we can't cope any more. I am a strong advocate of solitude and spending time on my own. For me, it is a great healer and allows me a valuable breathing space. Able to finally relax, I can ponder issues and problems I have been wrestling with for some time.

As a child, I spent more time on my own than not; the truth is, I preferred my own company and my overactive imagination, that ran riot in the privacy of my own room. One has to remember, I have always written, since I was a young boy, so sitting quietly on one's own was part of the course. Whether keeping a journal or composing a short story, I was happy to remain cut off, aloof from everyone, writing my thoughts down on paper. I suppose I was one of the lucky ones, who enjoyed my own company, never getting bored and always actively writing or productively procrastinating in some form.

For a long time, I forgot how to express myself through words; after University, I became absorbed in the local gay scene and lived life to the full. I partied every night, was always out and about, visiting this person or that, and never had the time to articulate my feelings as I would have liked. There was a huge period, where I didn't document my life, as I do now, and that angers me. At a time when I should have expressed how I felt, whilst growing up gay, I was too busy getting drunk and hiding who I really was.

Coming out of one's shell and becoming the person I was meant to be, isn't necessarily a bad thing. Surrounded by like-minded individuals, who had the same outlook on life, facing the same challenges and problems, was a liberating experience. It felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders and the new me was out and proud for all the World to see. However, it wasn't quite that simple. I turned into a person I didn't really recognise; the quiet, studious, methodical and yes at times melancholy teenager had turned into a full on, in your face, camp, bitchy, sarcastic 'Queen,' who only cared about himself. If I look back to my life nearly thirty years ago, this is a period of great regret; I lost touch with the person I was and the dreams and aspirations I had!

Despite the hedonistic life I was leading, I did find some time to lock myself away and reflect on the 'madness.' My concentration span was practically non-existent back then, so I couldn't have written an extensive blog of my life, like today, I just didn't have it in me. I would often write poetry, expressing how I felt. The words were often difficult to decipher, incoherent and rambling; it was clear I was suffering from depression and anxiety, despite my new-found freedoms. As I became engrossed in the scene, I became more uptight and embittered  and the frustration I felt surfaced at the most inopportune moments. Arguing more, I pushed others away, and fell out with people almost on a daily basis. I had become a nasty individual, selfish, bombastic and unrecognisable. I needed time to myself more than ever, yet never seemed to get it. Able to look back subjectively today, I am able to see just what went wrong and more importantly why.

Without those reflective periods of solitude, I changed dramatically as a person. I, no longer, had space; there was so much inner conflict between the real me and the fake, false caricature I often portrayed, that my mental health was suffering as a result. If I had taken even a brief moment to step away, I could have seen just what was going wrong, but I barely had time to think, let alone concentrate on the bigger picture. The seclusion I craved then, is no different to the 'me time' I demand now; in contrast, I have it in spades today, as much as I want. I've learnt lessons and changed as a result; I no longer ignore what my head is telling me. Blogging has allowed me to pick up where I left off and once again do what I love most.

In 2021, I spend most of my days off on my own, writing, recording and  reflecting on each week, discussing events and circumstances that have played a role over the last seven days. After surviving difficult times in my life and realising just how much time I need for myself, I have been able to work alongside my commitments and produce writing I am proud of. Presently, I write at any given opportunity, it gives me the focus I need to get through each day and reminds me to recall events that resonate with my sense of well-being. Finding an equilibrium between writing and working has been important in my quest for balance, and I like to think I have finally achieved it. Only time will tell whether it works long term, or once again I will have to rethink the direction I am travelling in, in order to navigate this crazy word successfully. Cautious optimism, a return to solitude when necessary, and the ability to say 'NO' is my key to success in an unforgiving World.

Today is the first day I have actually been able to do some writing, after the operation on Monday. I am still feeling quite groggy and disorientated, which I personally put down to the general anaesthetic I had. The truth is, I have always suffered after being anaesthetised; after an operation in the late 1980s, I was left sick for many days, so it was no surprise that I felt the same way this time. I am just thankful to have finally had my gallbladder removed.

In the evening, before my operation on Monday, I was contacted by the Hospital and asked to attend the Theatre admissions department at 6.30 am. The lady I spoke to said I would be  first on the list that day, and they wanted to get me prepped and ready for the cholecystectomy by 8.30 in the morning. There was no eating allowed before the op, and I had to bring a dressing gown and a pair of slippers with me.

I arrived at the admissions' suite early and was immediately seen by a nurse who asked me a series of questions, and took my blood pressure, it was 124/80, more or less normal, as it should be. For me, this alone is a big achievement; ditching blood pressure tablets and managing to get my blood pressure under control, with lifestyle changes, including stopping drinking and smoking was a big undertaking. She seemed pleased with the result and directed me to a room to change into a surgical gown. Finally, she gave me a pair of stockings to wear, and said I would have to keep them on for the next 48 hours, just in case of blood clots.

Whilst not the most attractive fashion statement, the nurse explained how important it was to keep these on at all times and I wouldn't be able to bathe or shower during the 48-hour period. She also told me to keep hold of them for any future long haul flight, since they would afford better protection than other shop bought travel tights. Suitably impressed, I've only just taken my tights off today. I certainly don't have a predisposition to blood clots, but one can never be too careful after surgery.

The operation lasted about an hour and a half to two hours, which was longer than expected. As a rule, it takes about forty-five minutes to remove the gallbladder, but that is dependent on individual circumstances. I had been experiencing a lot of left sided pain, so it was suggested some of the biliary ducts in the area could have been affected, although I wasn't told this for sure. The reason for removal on my discharge notes states biliary colic, which encompasses any of the scenario's that could have occurred during surgery. I was told by a friend who I used to go to school with, that she had also had a cholecystectomy and had remained in theatre for a little over six hours, which made me thankful, mine was so quick.

Despite this being a routine procedure, it is still a major operation and does take its toll on the body. Initially, it took me many hours to eventually come round after the operation. I was particularly ill afterwards, vomiting constantly; my aversion to the anaesthetic and the opiates used, made me feel dreadful, something I still haven't recovered from three days later.

According to the nurse taking care of me after the operation, the laparoscopic procedure used to remove my gallbladder, uses CO2 gas to blow up the abdomen. This makes the body cavity easier to navigate; She did stress that I would feel some residual gas afterwards, which could cause pain. The tight chest I was experiencing, which was getting worse by the minute, was the gas moving up the body. It was particularly difficult to breathe, and she gave me what she could to ease the pain.

The wounds on my torso were less painful, at least initially, although the one just above my belly button was hurting far more than the others. With a large bruise forming just below, it was clear this was where the main point of entry was. Still under the effects of the anaesthetic, I wasn't really aware of just how painful it would be later on.

I was discharged from QA at 7pm, feeling decidedly sick. It was wonderful being cared for by Nurse Beverly, a regular at The Newcome Public House where I work, who looked after me faultlessly. In typical NHS style, she brought me Ginger nuts to settle my stomach and some peppermint tea to make me feel better. They were a wonderful bunch in 'recovery' and made my brief stay as comfortable as possible.

Today is Thursday, three days after the operation, and I have only just started to feel better. The gas has almost gone now, but pain where my scars are, have really kicked in, as they begin to heal and pull ever tighter. I have been given two weeks off work and should be OK to return by then, although I will have to avoid heavy lifting for several weeks after that.

This was an operation that was a long time coming, and I am hoping that after a year and a half I can start to feel more like my old self again. I am not sure whether or not the IBS symptoms I have been experiencing, over the last three years will remain, or get worse, or better in the preceding months. No one really knows if there was a relationship between gallbladder disease and the IBS I suffered with. All I can say is I feel pretty good for now and haven't needed to take any IBS medication. My wish is I finally see the back of it, the reality is rather different. I expect my IBS to last way beyond this operation, but gradually as I start to reintroduce food into my diet, that I haven't eaten in years, I hope there will be some improvement; so far so good. For now, I remain hopeful that life will finally get better, and the pain will eventually subside!

On Monday, I finally have my cholecystectomy, after a year and a half of waiting; it has been a long road getting here, but I am glad it won't be too long before it's finally over. I was speaking to a friend recently, who has also undergone surgery to remove their gallbladder, and they were honest in their reactions. I had to agree that the pain, resulting from a failing gallbladder and the formation of stones, is like nothing I have experienced before. Without swearing, it is the most intense agony, worse than anything you can imagine. For them, it was a relief getting back to a semblance of normality, after suffering for years. I don't care how painful this operation is, I just want the damn thing out!

Over the last few days, I have had to have a number of tests done, attending QA Hospital to have blood taken, ensuring I am OK to have the procedure on Monday. As someone who hates needles, I don't think I did too badly, not fainting once. Yes, there has been an occasion when I did pass out during a blood test, but thankfully this time, I was OK and managed to get through relatively unscathed.


My first visit to Laparoscopy was on Monday, and yesterday I received a call from the Hospital, asking me to go back to have yet more blood tests, as the last one of five hadn't been accepted; the label was written out wrong and rejected by the laboratory. Luckily today, I was heading back to QA for my PCR COVID test, so with little time to spare, I ran to the outpatients department to have the sample retaken. It was important to have it done, since it would indicate my blood group, should I need a transfusion during surgery. After an apology from the head nurse, everything was done in preparation for Monday, and I could finally relax.

I have to be at the Hospital at 6.30am on Monday and have been told to bring an overnight bag with dressing gown and slippers. I expect to be in for most of the day, although my consultant told me I was first on the list. Keyhole surgery is the preferred method to remove the gallbladder, but because It has been left so long, nobody is quite sure how much damage has been done and whether or not I will need further or more intensive treatment.

I have started a three-day period of self-isolation, from today  before my op. Legally, I have to do this, in order to protect me and those I come into contact with in Hospital. I have had to do this many times during the pandemic, so I am well-used to it. I have jumped through hoops to get this operation done and will not take any risks now. Also, I am taking a lateral flow test every day until Monday, and I am hoping my PCR test comes back negative, which I will have confirmed or not in a few days.

In Australia, Darrell has had his second vaccination, one of the rare twelve percent of the Australian population that has; both of us can breathe a sigh of relief where this dreaded virus is concerned. Of course, this doesn't mean he is in the clear yet, and he won't really know how much protection he has, until he flies to the UK later in the year. We are all constantly told, that the vaccine will only help prevent serious illness and doesn't stop people actually getting the disease. The hope is, Darrell will remain safe during his journey, at a time when very few people are allowed to leave the Australasian continent.

There is still much uncertainty surrounding Darrell's return; after speaking to him over the last few days, it would seem his Mother's cancer could be causing some problems in other areas of her health. Up until now, she has been undergoing chemotherapy to treat her condition, but it  is also responsible for the Anaemia she is currently suffering from. As a result, she has been told to stop the chemo to bring it under control.

Neither of us are sure how this will affect her overall health and whether it will delay Darrell's return to Britain. We are both well aware of the importance of him flying back within a set timescale, in order to keep to the terms of his Indefinite Leave To Remain visa. What we are not so sure about, is what will happen if his Mother's health deteriorates, and he has to remain in Australia, beyond the two-year limit required by the Immigration and Nationality Directorate here back home. Once again our life together remains as bumpy as ever, as we try and find solutions to a problem, not of our making!

For now, I am focused on my wellbeing and the surgery on Monday. I am struck by how much our health has been playing a part in mine and Darrell's life together, in recent times. We are both getting older and things are certainly not going to get any easier; so for now, we will just keep muddling through the best we can, as we always have. One day, the sun will shine again, and we can get back to living life in the way we always used to!

On Monday, I had my pre-op with the Upper GI department at Queen Alexandra Hospital. Having only ever had one operation before, in the 1980s, for an emergency appendix removal, I really have no idea what to expect. According to the lovely lady I spoke to on the phone, times have changed a lot, since the last time I had a general anaesthetic. Naturally however I am worried about having major surgery, especially because I have so many other conditions to contend with, but suitably reassured, I am looking forward to having my gallbladder finally removed, after a year and a half wait.

The operation itself shouldn't be too difficult and is a relatively common procedure. It is carried out through keyhole surgery, unless they have to do an open removal, which would complicate matters and extend the recovery time. My biggest concern is how much damage has been done, because of the long wait due to the pandemic. Also, I have a lot of left sided pain, rather than right, which is unusual and may indicate something different is going on. At the moment, I just don't know how bad the damage is; this is an operation that should have been scheduled a year ago.

The severity of the pain I have been experiencing would suggest other internal processes at work. My symptoms are wide and varied, probably because of IBS and the other illnesses I suffer with, but I am trying to remain focused on the future and what happens after the operation.

Of course, I am hoping my quality of life will improve after the cholecystectomy, but that isn't guaranteed. Most people return to normal afterwards and are able to eat a conventional diet, but for others it isn't that simple.  For some, eating a diet that contains fat of any kind is impossible, with the body unable to process it in the same way again; this isn't dissimilar to my eating habits today. Currently, I can only eat very small amounts of fat in my diet, due to a dysfunctional gallbladder. If I do consume too much, the pain is unbearable, and I am immediately sick. I am so careful with what I consume, because of the terrible symptoms I suffer, if I stray too far away from natural, non-processed foods. I am well aware of the difficulties ahead, but am prepared to have the procedure anyway, in order to try to get back to a semblance of normality and a regular routine, of sorts.

It looks like I will be off work for a couple of weeks, while the wounds heal. I will be left with five small scars across my abdomen, after the gallbladder is removed. Initially they will be sore, but should improve quickly, and I should be up and about in a relatively short time. Unable to do anything strenuous for six weeks, I hope to be back to my old self by September, although I will probably live with Gastrointestinal issues for a lot longer. Naturally, I have read much on the operation, especially in conjunction with IBS, and I am apprehensive, my IBS may get worse. I have so many GI issues now, that my stomach just doesn't know whether it's coming or going, and I have a feeling this is something I will have to live with long term. Preparing for the worst is my forte; being the realist I am, I just have to keep hoping for the best case scenario!

Sadly, Darrell will not be here when I am in Hospital, which of course adds extra anxiety, to an already challenging situation. Like so many other milestones in our life together recently, we will not be together, and that makes everything more difficult. Having an operation, whilst my partner is in another country, is going to be hard. I keep having thoughts of not waking up and never seeing him again. I have been preparing for any eventuality and making sure all my affairs are in order before my op on the 26th. Making sure Darrell is aware of any issues that may arise, is top of my agenda, just in case the worst happens, but let's not dwell and only concentrate on the new beginning that will follow.

On Monday I have a series of blood tests, to check my iron levels and make sure I am well enough to have the operation, then on Friday I will have a PCR COVID test and immediately go into self-isolation, before the operation on Monday morning. I have been told it may be a long wait and that I will also have to stay in hospital afterwards, to be monitored, mainly because I don't have anyone who can be with me for 24 hours after the procedure. Staying in hospital during a pandemic, is also not something I am looking forward to, but I am aware I will be kept in the safest parts of QA and will be as protected as I can be.

Whatever the outcome, I am just glad it will be finally over. Unless the pandemic really accelerates and hospital beds fill, cancelling the gallbladder operation. I hope to be back at work within a few weeks, until then, I'll just sit, worry, procrastinate and act like the nervous wreck I normally am; it's the way I have always muddled through and part of the person I have always been.

It was my absolute pleasure to be interviewed for the 'Artist First Radio Network,' and the 'Debra Rufini' show this week. Debra was engaging as ever, as we both spoke about the issues important to us. I was able to talk at length, for an hour, about my life, blogging, my campaign against bullying and my experience growing up gay in the 1970s/80s.

As a blogger, it is important to get my message across to my readership, so when the lovely Debra Rufini approached me for an interview, I was delighted to oblige. I have listened to her show numerous times and followed her radio programme with interest. Talking about a wide range of subjects, her interviews have always struck a chord with me. From spirituality, writing, narcissism and bullying, her topic of conversation, never fails to inform and entertain. My small contribution has allowed me to finally speak about subjects close to my heart, with a person who understands the mission statement of 'Roaming Brit.'

I felt relaxed talking with Debra, through a medium I have never used before. The radio is a great way for me to get my message across to others; expressing my feelings, vocally, has been an empowering experience. After listening to the broadcast yesterday, I was happy to have been given the opportunity to tell a small part of my story.

The original reasons for creating 'Roaming Brit' all those years ago, are still there and my passion about ending bullying and abuse in all its forms, is as important today as it was then. Debra and I have much in common; our shared values and beliefs come across in an interview that spanned nearly an hour. For me, it was a cosy chat with a friend, but it is also a programme that explored my character, sentiment and conviction. Debra made me remember why I blog, who I blog for, how it has shaped my life and, more seditiously, just how much trauma I have suffered throughout.

My sexuality is the common factor that linked every component in the interview. This is the one single theme, that has really been responsible for the decisions I have made and the challenges I have faced. This connection was at the forefront of my mind during my chat with Debra and continues to dominate my life, even today. From bullying and writing, to childhood and family, homosexuality has been the most tenacious obstacle to my sense of self-worth. It has controlled my life and has made me the person I am today. It isn't until you listen back to a conversation or, in this case, a dialogue on a radio show, that you realise, just what shaped your future direction. If only all of us were accepted for who we are, we wouldn't have to go through the terrible pattern of injustice, that many LGBTQ+ people suffer daily.

My sincere hope, is this interview will help others, who are suffering from bullying. I have written so much about the subject, that I was glad to be able to finally tell my story. Debra was wonderful at making me feel at ease and comfortable, so I felt in a position to tell my narrative, in a way I wanted to, not how others would have demanded. Bullying and abuse are serious issues that need to be addressed, and it is only by talking, that you are able to see through fog. The 'smoke and mirrors' effect, so often used by abusers to muddy the water and make you feel guilty, is a difficult method of manipulation to see through. Listening to other stories, is a great way of understanding the sinister processes at play.

Do take a listen to the podcast of the broadcast on YouTube, which I have included in the link above, and of course let me know what you think. I would of course like to thank Debra and all those at The Debra Rufini Show for their support and for the opportunity to tell my story. I have been amazed by the positive feedback I have received and hope it isn't too long before you hear from me again. Roaming Brit survives, because of its readership and I hope you will all take a moment, to sit and listen to my experiences, in this crazy World we all live in.

This radio interview is dedicated to all those who have suffered and continue to suffer abuse. Many of you helped me come to terms with my struggles, and for that I am truly thankful. Without your love and support, I wouldn't be here today!

I have always encouraged myself to tell the truth, even in the  most difficult of circumstances, it's the reason I decided to call myself 'The Real Truth Blogger.' Writing about my experiences in life, in the most sincere way possible, has always been my mantra. I have never looked at life through rose-tinted glasses or been under any illusions about the mistakes I have made and the challenges that have brought me to where I am today. My life is hard; the lifestyle choices I made many years ago have come back to haunt me, and I am fully aware of the difficult road ahead, because I have been here before. The stories I write, blogs I compose and memories I reflect upon, are as honest as I believe they should be. Nevertheless, all of us, even me, try to remember the best of times, often leaving traumatic accounts locked away, rarely seeing the light of day.

I have had an amazing life and been to places, that others could only dream of. I have partied, sometimes for days on end, and lived abroad, meeting some wonderful people. Never staying in one place too long, I have rarely settled for any length of time; despite this, I have a loving husband, who I adore more now, than ever. Living an alternative life, full of spontaneous adventure, excitement and amazing experiences has been truly fantastic, but it really is only half the story. Isn't it true, that we only want to remember those productive and uplifting moments, papering over the cracks and larger gaping wounds, that only show people what we want them to see?

We live in such an image conscious World, that being truthful has become a dying art. Airbrushing photos, applying a filter to our face and deleting bad pictures and memories have become commonplace. You could be forgiven for believing all our lives are a scene from the 'Truman Show,' perfect in every respect, faultless and without complication and hardship. Of course, nothing could be further from the truth; I am as guilty as anyone for concentrating my endeavours on happy events and milestones and ignoring the more controversial occurrences that define us as individuals.

I write about my childhood often, a time I find difficult to comprehend, even now after thirty-five, forty years. The narrative, is often reflective of favourable situations and occasions and tends to skip over the role negativity played. For the most part, I had a particularly unhappy childhood, but that isn't always echoed in the words I write. Apart from the odd one of two traumatic scenarios, it feels as if I have forgotten the damn right destructive days, that far outweigh the creativity I like to express.

Childhood trauma can be hard to remember; I have tried to forget most of the bad days, many too painful to recall. When it comes to writing about the most distressing periods I have lived through, I have unconsciously forgotten the worst details, often afraid to dig deep enough. Even now, as I compose this entry, I understand just how harrowing my life was at times, but I don't remember the details well enough to include them in this blog.

Just because my life is relatively fortuitous today, it doesn't mean it always was. Growing up gay in the 1970s/80s, alone, with very few friends, has had a very damaging effect on my wellbeing. The depression and anxiety I suffer with, today, is a direct response to the circumstances that surrounded my youth. Sitting down quietly, remembering with fondness a time I hated with a passion, is an escape from reality, that allows me to concentrate on the heart-warming anecdotes. These tend to remain at the forefront of my mind, overriding all the heartache and anguish that really should be addressed.

Of course confronting one's demons isn't an easy task, and I have at least started to analyse a past that was littered with self loathing, insecurity and fear. This blog is primarily about documenting events and expressing myself, as I struggle through life's ups and downs. It is also about remembering a past that wasn't always prosperous or constructive, and recalling a journey that hasn't been easy. As I have become more self-aware, I have also become uncompromising in my search for the truth, about who I am and what has made me the walking catastrophe I was born to be.

It is hard coming to terms with one's failings in life, but it is harder ignoring the significance they play in one's future direction. In order to move on, move forward, without the constraints of the past, I do have to learn from the mistakes I made. Accepting the consequences of my actions and never repeating them again, creates a chance for  a new beginning and a catalyst for change, even at fifty years of age!

This week has been seven days of hell where my health is concerned, so much so, I am thinking of taking matters into my own hands. I have so many conditions to contend with at the moment, that I literally don't know what ailment is causing which pain. It has become very hard functioning on a daily basis, without experiencing some sort of discomfort. I don't know how many times I have mentioned it to my GP, only to be fobbed off with a generalised answer, that is designed to make me feel better... WELL, I DON'T FEEL GOOD, I DON'T FEEL GOOD AT ALL!

After a series of Xrays on my back and hips, I had an appointment with Rheumatology this week, to discuss the results. As usual, I was expecting the worst and had mixed feelings about hearing from the consultant. As it happens, there was good and bad news, and it certainly wasn't as terrible as I thought it would be.

Luckily, I have been told that I don't have rheumatoid arthritis, which would have been the worst outcome of all. The signs were there, but the blood tests and xrays came back negative. The bad news was really as I expected. I have substantial damage to the discs and joints in my lower back, which have been causing me a lot of pain. The Doctor explained that ultimately I may have to have an operation, but as long as I can live with the aching, she recommended I do nothing yet. Also, I would be referred back to physiotherapy, which could now be more tailored to my own personal needs. As per usual, she suggested I lose weight, which is easier said than done. Despite all the walking I do on a daily basis, the pounds just seem to pile on.

Speaking to her about  my difficulty with weight loss and other chronic symptoms I have been experiencing, she hinted there may be a problem with my thyroid. A chat with my GP and more tests and referrals, could help me discover why I am feeling the way I am.  I'm sure my GP must think I am a hypochondriac at times, but after three years, she is used to my ongoing complaints. To be honest, looking at my constant push for answers, I have discovered many ailments, I never knew I had. You do have to be as vocal as you can, especially during a pandemic, because surgeries across the country are not working as they should and many people are being left in pain, like me. It is important for me to find out what is going on, so I can finally move on with my life.

On Thursday, whilst talking to Darrell on the phone, I was interrupted by a phone call from QA Hospital, from the surgical unit of the upper GI department. They had a date for my cholecystectomy operation to remove my gallbladder, finally, after a year and three months of waiting. I was informed the date would be 17 July and I would need to make arrangements to attend on that day. I am also required to self-isolate for three days prior to the operation and take a PCR COVID-19 test a few days before. Despite the logistical nightmare, of having a procedure during a pandemic, I was just relieved I would finally have my gallbladder removed and could hopefully start living a normal life again. Only time will tell whether this will be enough to stop the pain I experience on a daily basis, or if I will have to undergo more treatment in the future.

Today, whilst at work, I was contacted by QA Hospital once again to change the appointment date to the following week, due to no radiologist being available on that day. On the same weekend my Aunt is throwing her first party for close family and friends, I will be confined to a room upstairs. This is rather annoying if I am honest, but I am so desperate to have this operation, I will just have to do what is necessary. This is the only date available, and I just can't pick and chose right now.

On top of the conditions I suffer with, Diverticular Disease, GERD, a large Hiatal Hernia, gallbladder disease and narrowing of the spine, I also have IBS symptoms on a daily basis. As you would expect, my IBS is out of control at the moment. I always refer to IBS as 'my IBS' because all of us who suffer with it, have our own unique symptoms. This is an individual disease, that affects each of us differently. My symptoms are ongoing, every day, but thankfully some days are better than others.

Since my first severe symptoms more than three years ago, with careful planning, eating a relatively low FODMAP diet and medication, I have managed to control the worst aspects of IBS. I do, however, suffer more frequently now than I used to, just in a milder form. I have been told that the chronic conditions I experience, are at least in part responsible for the abdominal pain I have, but I just can't be sure by how much. IBS controls your whole life, sucks the lifeblood out of you and consumes every waking hour. Stomach, back, hip and pelvic pain is common, as well as a change in bowel habits, nausea, dizziness and depression. I am frequently reminded how I will have to live with this for the rest of my life, and I am constantly searching for solutions to help me cope with the anxiety and distress this causes.

I am hoping that after my operation, my IBS symptoms will subside, but I am told that may not happen, and there is a chance I could be left in a worse state than I am now. Having a cholecystectomy is no guarantee of normality, in fact it may well just be the beginning of a journey to repair the damage done to my body over many years. I have learned to live well again, eating healthy, no longer smoking or drinking and working hard to survive. I have rebuilt my life and become a much better person, but the years of neglect have taken their toll and I will most probably live with persistent pain for the rest of my days. Managing the challenging aspects of illness, and mitigating the worst characteristics of these complaints, should help me regain some form of control. As a wise man once told me, 'Don't let it control you, control it!' Removing the constraints I have lived under for so long, is my overriding priority now, beating back the spectre of illness and overcoming my concerns, offers a path of hope through a sea of pain!

The last week has been an expensive one, for me at least. Today, I spend very little, preferring to save for my precarious future, rather than waste money on going out and buying rubbish I don't actually need. This past couple of years has taught me much about survival, and I am no longer the person I once was. I am most certainly more careful with my finances, so much so, some people would call me damn right tight, but after the times I have lived through, I have no option but to build a new life for me and Darrell when he returns from Australia.

Anyone who knows me well enough, understands just how bad I was with money in the past. Always living for the moment, I spent money quicker than I could earn it, never having anything for a rainy day. I have very little to show for it, but I have lived a life most people could only dream of. I have travelled the World, lived abroad and enjoyed myself to the full. My party lifestyle extending from my teens, throughout my young adulthood and well into my forties. To think, I was still clubbing for days on end at 45 years old. You have to understand, I have had very little responsibility in life, no kids to look after and a career path that never stayed in the same place for too long. I was able to do what I wanted, when I wanted, despite the consequences.

I was, in fact still am, a person with a highly addictive personality. Shopping was my major downfall, whether buying from shopping channels on TV, especially QVC, or buying houses (three in a year, ) I would always do it to excess. Package after package would arrive at the front door, brochures for holidays, details for property in France or a 'buy to let' up north; you name it, I would buy it, usually with little or no research. When I decided to open a share dealing account, investing thousands of pounds in various companies, with little knowledge of their business plans, it was a recipe for disaster. As easy as it was to invest, it was easier to lose it all, which I did in spectacular form. Within four years I went from having the World,  to owning nothing, zilch, not a dime.

Today, I regard spending a few hundred pounds as extravagant and over the top, so replacing a mattress and television, as I have had to this week, has made me shudder. It takes me back to bad times and a chapter in my life that left me penniless. Even though I am aware I will not go down that path again, I still feel that pain. Anything I did to the extreme, does affect me negatively today. I have enjoyed my life and have some fantastic memories, but all of them are tinged with sadness. When we experience highs in life, lows will inevitably follow. I suppose living through this pandemic, is in many respects the penance I have to pay for the mistakes of the past. The frugal life I lead now, is a lesson for the future and should help me stay grounded for as long as it takes to start over again.

In the grand scheme of things, the money I spent this week means very little. I have built up a substantial nest egg, but I just can't forget the history of who I am. I am scared I will head back to the dark days of spending without limits, and that isn't where I want to go again. My relationship with money is fraught with problems, but I have no choice but to learn from my mistakes and adopt a new mindset.

This process of renewal began when I lived in Spain, subsistence living at its finest, and I continue very much in the same vein today. Spain was a great healer for me, that brought me back to a way of life, I last experienced living with my Mother and Father in the 1970s. As a child, I had no money, my family working hard for everything they had. There was no credit, no debt and no help from others. The only thing that mattered then, was keeping a roof over ones head, just as it does today. I don't need or want luxuries any more, I just want to survive, be around family and NOT, I repeat NOT, make the same mistakes of the past.

This old man is still learning; I am doing what I should have done years ago. It's the little things that make me happy, it's the money saving, cautious, prudent and thrifty me that should have been centre stage. This week I was able to find an NHS dentist, after not being able to afford to go to one in over a decade. Instead of spending six or seven hundred pounds, I paid a mere fraction of that, in order to get my teeth back in good shape. Despite the reasonable price, I still remained reluctant to part with my hard-earned cash, that's how far I have come.

The passing years have been a challenge in every respect. I have changed out of all proportion, something I hope to continue to do. You won't find me repeating the mistakes of the past, because I can't afford to. The journey I have been on, even since I started blogging in 2015, has been arduous, and I continue to fight for the life I should have had. The pennies I save today will open doors to my future tomorrow and help Darrell and I finally settle down together. Our success lies in our love for each other, the memories we share and our tried and tested relationship. We won't ever be rich and enjoy the lifestyle of our peers, but we will remain happy together, ducking, diving, working hard and surviving. Pushing forwards with positivity, we will always be  mindful of failure and tripping at the final hurdle.