Notes from a dexa scan

1. Waiting rooms where Dexa scans (bone density) take place are filled with old people, where to be fair, hip replacement are more common than a cold. You will bring the average age down to about 70. 68 at a push.

2. Because you are ushered in quite quickly, you will hear the equivalent to 40 billion tuts as the ‘youngen’ is seen before Mildred, who has been waiting ’45 bloody minutes’

3. The curtain in the changing area never fully closes. A passerby will snatch a glance at your boobs as you speed change. You hope passerby is a woman.

4. You stop long enough to take a stealth selfie in your gown for obligatory gown superhero pose. You realise that you cannot do pose and take photo. Message kind of gets lost. End up with this instead….

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It’ll do.

5. The other issue is tying up aforementioned gown so you don’t expose a) the puppies (they’ve been let loose) and b) your M&S knickers. Mildred might get jealous of your pretty pants.

6. You fail pretty miserably at number 5. None more so than when you’re called in and your trying to hold you hospital bag, coat and dignity while pinching together your gown and tweet your picture all at the same time.

7. Radiographers will not help you with your paraphernalia to assist in limiting exposure of your bum to Mildred.

8. You still have the ability to blush. Well done.

9. The actual scan takes 4 minutes. You are still red when you walk back out.

10. Next time, don’t be all bloody minded and independent and take someone with you. Crying. Out. Loud.

Results next week…

You know what to do…

Purple outfits at the ready!

If you don’t want to wear purple, touch something purple for luck. Don’t necessarily touch a person wearing purple because they might not like it. You can touch me if you like, I’ll be wearing purple and I like touching.

I’m babbling.

Send your prayers, if you pray.
Send your good thoughts and vibes, if you have them.
Send your love, luck and hugs.
And send your pictures of you in purple. That gesture alone is worth so much to me.

Purple Army, ASSEMBLE!
#PurpleArmy #PurplePower

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‘I likes you’

Dear James,

You are 2.5 years old. That’s like well old in baby terms. Practically a young man. Crikey. Please stop growing up so fast.

You are a big ball of fun. James, since you knew you could use your mouth to talk, you’ve not stopped using it. As soon as you wake in the morning, you knock on your door to let us know that ‘Yames Crimb’ is up for the day. And you don’t stop until you tell me all about your day when we snuggle for the night.
‘Have nice day Mummeh?’

You’ve come on in leaps and bounds I’m your language. Everyone comments on how polite you are. Never stop that my darling, it’ll stand you in good stead in the future. Trust me.

Your favourite phrase at the moment is ‘I likes you’ and it just warms my heart when you use it. Simply because you truly mean it when you say it.

James, your favourite things are to draw, watch ‘ootube’ and play football and cars. Hide and seek is your favourite game and you love going to the library with Daddy to get your books each week. A book worm in the making. Yay!

You’ve become so tactile and you love nothing more than to cuddle and kiss the people you love the most. You give handshakes to new people you meet and you save the cheek squeezes just for me. I do love them so.

You proclaim ‘oh it’s so cute, mum’ at the dogs we encounter on our walks and in fact you said the same of Baby Molly when we met her on Sunday.
You doted on her just like you were her big Brother. I’d love nothing more than to give you that joy permanently and it breaks my heart that I can’t make that so.

You’ll be a fantastic ‘big Brother’ to any of your friends siblings, I am sure.

James, you are a loving soul with an inquisitive mind. I can see your cogs whirring. You are a little sponge right now, with a memory that has me beat.

However, tantrums….they are in a league of there own. Wow. Just wow.
You threw a right paddy yesterday because I gave you your fork for dinner, the wrong way round.
You actually sobbed for 6 minutes.

Wow.

But I dissipated it by doing the ‘Lalalala’ dance which is just a dance that you an I do.

You LOVE your music. You dance to ANYTHING! And you have strong opinions on my singing in the shower. I’ve never heard you beat down the door telling me to shut up, so I am sure Daddy is making it up.

James, I have my 9-month check tomorrow and I’m not afraid to say I’m scared. But you looked at me tonight and squeezed my cheeks and told me you ‘Likes me’. And that is what will get me through.

I likes you too my beautiful boy.
I am so so proud of you.

Keep growing strong,
All my love,
Mama x

Celebrate

I posted the follow status last night on Facebook…

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So far I’ve had:
Dying my hair purple/red
Shaking my tatas
Mooning
Running all the way oop north

I’m saving the shaking my tatas for my one year celebration

5 years will be full nudity.

But what shall I do for 9-months.

Let me know your ideas!

Remember you have two more days to get your purple on, ready for my check on Thursday.

Purple army, ASSEMBLE!

A day in the life….

When I first wrote the title to this blog, it was going to be about what I go through on a daily basis, to give an insight to what life is like nearly 9-months post treatment; both mentally and physically because even though I share a lot via this medium, there is a HELL of a lot that no one else knows.

But I decided against it. I’ve been negative of late and although I am trying to put into things into perspective, its fucking hard.

There is one person who makes EVERYTHING ok. He makes my life worth living.

Here is a day in the life with my boy, James.

First we have to choose our outfits for the day…

Record top or radio players?

Record top or radio players?

The weather plays a major part in our decision…

Perfect walking weather

Perfect walking weather

So we decide on a bracing walk…

The Shadows

The Shadows

And of course, we need to jump in puddles…

A certain pig has a lot of answer for.

A certain pig has a lot of answer for.

Naturally, we stop for lunch…

Erm...I'll have one of each.

Erm…I’ll have one of each.

And James ‘helps’ me eat my Belgian pancakes…

Never enough...

Never enough…

We need to burn off the hot chocolates we’ve also devoured, so its a run in the park…

'I'm gunna get them birds, mum'

‘I’m gunna get them birds, mum’

Its bright enough for sunnies today…

Annnnd....POUT.

Annnnd….POUT.

I gave James a very important history lesson…

He kept saying thank you to the poppies.

He kept saying thank you to the poppies.

But its getting cold and we are dying to meet a new addition…

Boom. My heart just burst.

Boom. My heart just burst.

And then he had fish dippers for tea, and we had a snuggle on the sofa. James told me the best part was meeting Baby Molly. Not just Molly, but Baby Molly.
Oh and watching Turbo.

A day in the life of a toddler and his Mum. My happy days.

Identity Crisis?

I have struggled to write this post.
I had several themes in my head.

I guess I don’t really know who I am anymore. People tell me to just be happy.

That’s not as easy as it sounds.

I am happy, mostly, everyone has things they want to change. For me that revolves around my work, or rather the stability surrounding my work. Having slimmer thighs would make me happy too.

I know I am a wife and a ‘Mummeh’ but I guess I don’t know who Frannie is anymore.

I know who I used to be. I used to be walk all over. I used to be uber emotional. I used to care far too much about other peoples feelings and never my own.

Now, I’m more hard-nosed. I don’t suffer fools gladly and I tell it like it is.

I Know people don’t like how I’ve changed. I’ve lost people along the way. But I’ve also gained so many more.

I’ve a confidence that has come back that I used to have many moons ago.

My banter is coming back and I actually don’t mind too much about my body. It’s done me good this past year.

And my hair is brills.

Maybe this isn’t so much an identity crisis for me than it is for everyone else.

It’s an identity revelation.

I’m changing. I am nearly Frannie.

I’m happy.