Video journey of my surgery

This is just a collection of little vlogs I did while in hospital and the days afterwards.

 

✨ My Surgical Journey – The Big Day ✨

Well...

I did it.

As I'm writing this, my surgery was two weeks ago.

I've been posting little video updates along the way, which I'll upload here soon, but if you're impatient (or just nosy 😂) you can find them on my Facebook and Instagram.

https://www.facebook.com/katherine.henden

https://www.instagram.com/katbin24/

😳 The Night Before

The instructions were simple:

🚫 No food after midnight.

🚫 No drinks after midnight.

Easy enough.

Except nobody mentioned you also have to survive an entire night with your own thoughts.

I don't think I slept for more than ten minutes.

Every possible disaster played out in my head.

"They'll cancel because of my BMI."

"I've forgotten something important."

"I'll get there and they've double-booked."

"My surgeon will have gone on holiday."

Completely rational thoughts, obviously.

Arrival

I had to be at the hospital by 7.30am.

Knowing I was the only patient having surgery that day, I assumed I'd have plenty of time to settle into my room, take some photos, maybe film a little update...

Nope.

I barely had time to put my bag down before the conveyor belt started.

Within what felt like minutes I'd met my nurse, the surgical assistant, the anaesthetist, the pharmacist, my surgeon and, most importantly, the lovely lady from catering.

(Honestly, she deserves a shout-out because that woman looked after me like I was family all weekend.)

🎨 Becoming a Human Colouring Book

When Mr T arrived, I had to strip down while he took clinical photos.

Then came the Sharpie.

He started drawing all over my body. Lines, arrows, measurements.

At one point I looked less like a patient and more like someone about to be assembled from IKEA instructions.

I really wish I'd taken a photo because it was absolutely ridiculous.

Seeing all those markings suddenly made everything feel very, very real.

😴 Lights Out

About forty minutes after arriving, I was being wheeled into theatre.

A cannula went into my hand.

A mask went over my face.

I remember thinking...

"This gas doesn't seem to be doing anyth..."

Next thing I knew I was waking up.

😲 Seven Hours Later...

In my mind, I'd been asleep for about ten minutes.

In reality?

It was nearly 6pm.

I'd spent over seven hours in theatre exactly as Mr T had predicted.

Which, oddly enough, felt reassuring. No surprises. No complications. Just a very long day at the office for everyone involved. Especially my surgeon.

I don't blame him for going home afterwards.

I'd have needed a lie down too.

🚽 The Toilet Incident

Unfortunately the recovery room had removed my catheter. Nobody seemed to know why.

This became a problem several hours later when nature inevitably called.

The night nurse confidently helped me sit up, then stand. My body immediately responded with:

"No."

Everything went black, I couldn't hear anything, I felt hot, dizzy and incredibly strange.

Next thing I knew I was back on the bed while he stared at my blood pressure monitor looking distinctly alarmed.

Apparently my blood pressure had completely fallen through the floor.

A commode soon appeared beside the bed. Not exactly the glamorous post-op experience I'd imagined. Getting onto it, however, was another story.

Between the tummy binder, the surgical drains digging into my groin and the fact that my stomach had essentially just been rebuilt, every tiny movement hurt.

A lot.

💧 Water? No Thanks...

The solution was apparently:

"Drink lots of fluids."

Which is excellent advice unless you're desperately trying NOT to need another wee.

Thankfully they eventually hooked me up to another saline drip instead.

🤦‍♀️ The Cannula Saga

Meanwhile, the cannula in my hand was becoming increasingly painful.

My thumb started going numb and the outside of my hand lost feeling.

I mentioned it several times.

"It's fine."

Spoiler alert.

It wasn't.

Eventually they removed it, only to discover later that they urgently needed IV access again because my blood pressure had crashed.

Oops.

Cue the on-call doctor arriving in the middle of the night to put another cannula into my other hand.

💨 The Unexpected Villain

Nobody prepares you for the gas pain. Apparently, during surgery, air gets pumped inside your body and eventually has to escape naturally. Occasionally it can get trapped.

That trapped gas was more painful than my gallstones and if you've had gallstones, you'll know that's saying something.

I asked for a peppermint tea because I'd read it could help. That tea never arrived.

To be honest, the overnight care wasn't brilliant - I was the only patient on the ward, yet every time I pressed the buzzer I felt like I was interrupting something.

Thankfully the gas eventually settled on its own anyway.

💉 "Do You Want Morphine?"

As the anaesthetic wore off, the pain started creeping in. So I asked whether I could have something stronger.

The nurse casually replied, "You can have morphine if you want."

Me: "Will it help and is it ok to take with my BP being so low etc?"

Him: "I don't really know... it's your choice."

After weighing up my extensive medical training (which consists entirely of watching Holby City), I decided to say yes.

Thankfully it worked.

☀️ A Better Morning

The day nurse arrived and immediately things improved.

She looked through my notes, listened to everything that had happened overnight and couldn't believe I'd been encouraged to stand so soon after surgery.

Instead, she produced a bedpan.

Never in my life did I think I'd be so excited to see one.

👀 The Moment I'd Waited 20 Years For

Mr T visited first thing. He said everything had gone perfectly.

Then he removed my binder. I was absolutely dreading this moment as I'm ridiculously squeamish.

I still couldn't really feel my stomach because everything was numb.

Then I looked down and said, completely without thinking:

"I CAN SEE MY VAGINA!"

The room went silent.

Then everyone laughed.

I had to explain that for almost twenty years I'd been looking over a mound of loose skin and fat and seeing the bottom half of my body without it was genuinely emotional.

I noticed the tiniest smile on Mr T's face as I think he realised, in that moment, what this proceedure had really meant to me and he had done his job well!

👙 The Biggest Surprise

My breasts.

I had expected them to be agony but they weren't. In fact I had almost no pain at all.

Even more surprisingly was that I already had feeling in my nipples.

The nurses kept checking blood flow throughout the day and everything looked fantastic.

The messages started rolling in after I posted my first video. Apparently my cleavage was already making quite the comeback. I'll take that. 

My husband thinks they are smaller but we were warned this could happen and over the coming months would fill out again to the correct size.

❤️ Going Home

The next day I was finally discharged.

One drain had already been removed but the other, unfortunately, had to stay attached for another day.

I was sent home with a measuring jug and instructions to record exactly how much fluid collected every 24 hours. Not a sentence I ever imagined writing.

Thankfully it came out the following day.

Unfortunately, the drain site later became infected but that was easily sorted at home.

🛏️ Next Time...

So that's surgery day.

The excitement, the fear, the morphine, the commode, the gas pain, the accidental vagina reveal.

And finally...

The first glimpse of the body I'd been dreaming about for almost twenty years.

Next time I'll be sharing what recovery at home has really been like.

Spoiler alert: Trying to rest while you have children, dogs and a household to run is about as relaxing as you'd imagine...

As mentioned, I'm having my post op appointment today and hoping to get my dressing off so I should be able to take my 'after' pictures and can share the visual results very soon.

My Surgical Journey - Pre-ops

I’m now less than two weeks away from surgery day and, despite being convinced I’d be a nervous wreck by now, I’m actually just incredibly excited!

As I mentioned previously, my BMI is slightly higher than the hospital would ideally like, so they insisted on an additional in-person pre-op assessment to make sure everything was safe for surgery.

The appointment involved swabs, blood tests, height and weight measurements, an ECG, and what felt like a million questions. While it was a little frustrating, it was reassuring to know they were being so thorough and putting my safety first.

I should probably mention at this point that I have what nurses lovingly refer to as "difficult veins." It’s incredibly rare for anyone to get blood from me on the first attempt thanks to my weak and wriggly veins. Because of my arthritis and the various medications I’ve been on over the years, I need blood tests every six months, so it’s become a bit of a running joke to challenge nurses to get it first time.

Well, this nurse managed it, which I was genuinely impressed by!

The only downside was that my blood tests needed to be taken within 28 days of surgery, and this appointment happened around 35 days beforehand. That meant I had to come back again for another set.

Thankfully, I already had a pre-op appointment booked with my surgeon, so they kindly arranged for the blood tests to be done on the same day.

The lovely nurse also talked me through what to expect on surgery day, including what time to arrive, what to bring, and when I needed to stop eating and drinking.

Fast forward a couple of weeks and I was back again to see Mr T.

After my bloods (which took 3 attempts, 2 nurses and ended with it being taken from my hand) Mr T went through the procedure once more to make sure I fully understood everything and gave me a clearer picture of what recovery would look like.

Some of the key points were:

• The most painful period is likely to be the first 24–48 hours.
• My breasts will probably look smaller at first until everything settles over the following months (which is the opposite of what I expected!).
• I’ll have drains coming from my tummy area to prevent fluid building up beneath the wound. These will be removed once the drainage decreases, and he’ll explain this in more detail before I’m discharged.
• The hospital will provide one compression garment, but I needed to buy a second one myself. The picture is below. It cost me £85! I honestly think it’s the most money I’ve ever spent on a piece of underwear, and it’s absolutely hideous.
• Most importantly, I need to wear old pyjamas and underwear because they will get stained. Eeek!

Once I got home, I paid the remaining balance for the surgery, which made everything feel very real. There’s no backing out now!

At the time of writing, I have just 11 days left to go.

I’m also pleased to report that I still haven’t had a cigarette. I’ve even made it through a few social gatherings without giving in, which I’m quite proud of. More than anything, it shows just how much I want this surgery and how determined I am not to jeopardise my recovery. Nicotine can seriously affect healing and increase the risk of complications and infection, so giving up was non-negotiable.

There’s just one final hurdle before the big day: my husband is having his gallbladder removed tomorrow. He’ll need looking after while he recovers, which should be a great distraction from my own countdown and hopefully make the next week and a half pass a little faster!

✨ My Surgical Journey – The "How" ✨

In my last post, I shared the why behind my decision to have a tummy tuck and breast uplift.

This time, it's all about the how.

Finding the Right Surgeon

The first thing I had to do was research surgeons.

If you've ever looked into cosmetic surgery, you'll know it's a huge industry and, honestly, a bit of a minefield. There are endless options, all with glowing reviews, beautiful before-and-after photos, and promises of life-changing results.

I needed a way to narrow things down.

1. Location

I am incredibly squeamish.

The thought of being discharged shortly after surgery and sent home with a wound stretching from hip to hip, plus however many incisions would come with a breast uplift, absolutely terrified me.

During my research, I also discovered that because of my BMI, there was a reasonable chance I'd need surgical drains after the operation. That made one thing very clear:

I did not want to travel far.

Not just for the journey home, but for follow-up appointments, check-ups, or in the unlikely event something went wrong during recovery.

This immediately ruled out the increasingly popular option of going abroad for surgery. It also ruled out many London clinics. I won't drive in London, and the thought of navigating public transport after major surgery was a hard no.

Suddenly, my search became much more manageable.

2. Reputation

From the start, I knew I wanted the best surgeon I could find. Cost would be a consideration, of course, but it would never be the deciding factor.

This is my body and if I was going to do it, I wanted to do it properly.

The problem was that almost every surgeon I looked at had fantastic reviews and amazing results. It felt like trying to find a needle in a haystack.

I'd spoken to people who'd had cosmetic procedures themselves. Some experiences were brilliant, others not so much. But again, most recommendations took me outside the area I'd decided to stick to.

Then I had a lightbulb moment. 

My wonderful mother-in-law works at Nuffield Health in Guildford, which offers cosmetic surgery.

Knowing the hospital's excellent reputation, I asked her a simple question:

"Who is the best cosmetic surgeon there?"

She came back with a name and even better, because she's a member of staff, I could receive a small family discount. Result. 😂

I did my homework and liked everything I saw. I won't name him just yet as I haven't asked his permission, so for now we'll call him Mr T.

His portfolio was impressive, his credentials were excellent, and he clearly knew exactly what he was doing.

Taking the First Real Step

Up until this point, none of it had felt real.

I think part of me expected someone to tell me I wasn't eligible, so I'd deliberately avoided getting too invested.

Eventually, I emailed Mr T's PA outlining my intentions and all the relevant details that I felt could affect my eligibility:

• Arthritis
• Psoriasis - An annoying psoriasis patch beneath my stomach fold that won't heal because... well... the fold is still there
• Current medications
• My BMI

I also asked for indicative pricing because at that point, I genuinely had no idea what these procedures cost.

The only thing I did know was that breast uplifts are often more expensive than implants, which surprised me when I first learned it.

What I did know was this:

If surgery was possible, I was going to find a way to make it happen. Even if I had to remortgage the house.

(Only slightly joking.)

The Virtual Consultation

Before committing to a paid face-to-face consultation, I arranged a free virtual appointment.

I had to submit front and side profile photographs beforehand while wearing fitted clothing.

The consultation itself was more focused on the procedures than on me personally.

Mr T explained the surgical options:

• Have both procedures separately.
• Have them together during one operation.

The combined procedure was cheaper overall because it only required one anaesthetic, but theatre slots were harder to secure because it takes most of the day.

I liked him immediately. He was kind, informative, direct, and refreshingly honest.

No sales pitch, no fluff, just facts.

When I raised concerns about my BMI, he was completely unfazed. He explained that while BMI is a consideration, it wasn't something that concerned him significantly and that, realistically, my measurements would change substantially after surgery anyway.

I came away feeling reassured.

The Quote

Then the quote arrived. My jaw hit the floor.

The total cost for both procedures was just under £20,000.

I genuinely hadn't expected a figure anywhere near that.

I've debated whether to share the exact amount because talking openly about money feels very un-British. But I promised I'd be transparent throughout this journey and, let's be honest, it's one of the questions everyone wants answered.

Since then, I've obtained several other quotes and discovered that the figure was actually pretty competitive.

Still...

Twenty thousand pounds!!!

I briefly thought that was the end of the road as I simply didn't have that kind of money sitting around.

Thankfully, my husband was much more optimistic than I was. After some serious conversations and advice from the wisest woman I know (my mum), we explored finance options and eventually secured a loan.

Looking back, this was probably the hardest part of the entire process. Spending that amount of money on something that's solely for me felt selfish, indulgent, shallow even.

I still struggle with those feelings as I am writing this. I know how fortunate I am to even have this option. But eventually I realised something important:

Maybe it's okay to put myself first this one time.

The Face-to-Face Consultation

This was the appointment that made everything feel real and I was terrified.

Not of the examination itself, but of someone telling me I couldn't have the surgery after all.

I brought my husband along to help me absorb all the information. In hindsight that may have been a mistake...

The consultation began with an examination of my abdomen.

After changing into a glamorous ensemble of "removing my trousers and holding my top up while trying not to die of embarrassment," Mr T assessed my stomach and showed me exactly where the incisions would go.

Using a mirror, he pinched, pulled and moved skin around to demonstrate the likely outcome.

He explained that the surgery would not only remove excess skin and fat but would also repair my separated abdominal muscles.

Something else I hadn't considered was my posture.

Apparently, I have a pronounced arch in my lower back, which naturally pushes my abdomen forward. So if I want that truly flat-stomach look afterwards, I'll need to work on correcting that myself.

Who knew?

The Awkward Part 🙈

Next came the breast examination. This is where bringing my husband became questionable.

Picture the scene:

I'm standing topless in front of a mirror, Mr T is lifting and assessing my breasts, my husband is sitting silently in the corner of the room...

Nobody knows where to look, nobody knows what to say.

To this day, weeks later, we still haven't discussed it. I think we've mutually agreed to pretend it never happened.

The breast uplift itself sounds pretty dramatic.

There are a lot of incisions involved and, yes, your nipples get moved. I know. I nearly fainted too.

Thankfully, he was pleased with the quality of the skin around my chest, which should make the reconstruction more straightforward.

Small wins.

The Scary Conversation

Once the examination was complete, we moved onto risks and there are lots of them.

They have to discuss every possible complication, no matter how unlikely but by the end of that conversation I was mentally planning my own funeral.

The biggest thing under my control was smoking. Mr T was crystal clear:

No nicotine.

Not cigarettes.

Not vapes.

Not patches.

Nothing.

Nicotine significantly impairs healing and increases the risk of wound complications apparently and he needed me nicotine free for 3 weeks before and 3 weeks after surgery.

So I quit.

At the time of writing, it's been almost two months.

I've had the occasional lapse while having a drink, but I've remained nicotine-free within the required timeframe and honestly, I'm pretty proud of that.

One Final Hurdle

Just as I thought everything was settled, Mr T dropped one final bombshell.

He explained that although he was happy to proceed, the hospital still needed to approve me because of the increased risks associated with my BMI.

I was stunned.

Especially as I'd already paid £200 for the consultation. If they'd turned around and said no at that point, I'd have been furious. So began a very stressful wait.

Eventually—and only after I chased them—I received confirmation that I was approved and they had a surgery slot available.

4th July 2026.

I accepted immediately.

Getting Ready

Since then, things have moved quickly.

I've had:

✅ A full pre-operative assessment

✅ Blood tests

✅ ECG

✅ Swabs

✅ A million medical questions

Next week I'll meet with Mr T again to be measured for my compression garment and post-surgery bra.

Honestly, I never thought I'd be excited about being fitted for medical underwear, but here we are.

✨ Next Stop: Surgery Day

So that's the "how."

The researching, the worrying, the finances, the consultations, the awkward topless moments and the approval.

Now all that's left is the surgery itself. My next update will be the big one.

Wish me luck...

✨ My Surgery Journey Begins ✨

I am so excited to share that next month I will be having a tummy tuck and breast uplift.

I've decided to be completely open about the procedure because, let's be honest, the results will probably be quite visible! More importantly, I'd rather tell my story once than answer the same questions a hundred different times.

What has surprised me already is the number of people who have said things like:

💬 "Let me know how it goes."

💬 "I've been thinking about doing the same."

💬 "I'd love to hear about your experience."

So I've decided to share my journey from start to finish.

For years, whenever I researched these procedures, I searched for real-life experiences from real women. If my story helps even one person who's considering something similar, then sharing it will be worth it.

 

How We Got Here

My story starts almost 19 years ago when I was busy growing a human being inside my 5'2" frame.

My daughter was a BIG baby.

Pregnancy changed my body in ways I could never have imagined. Everything expanded—not just my tummy. My feet, ankles, thighs, upper arms, neck, and even my boobs all increased in size.

When she arrived, she left me with an umbilical hernia and severe abdominal muscle separation (diastasis recti), which created a strange dome shape down the centre of my stomach.

And from that moment on, my body was never quite the same.

Trying Everything

After giving birth, I gave myself grace.

I knew my body wouldn't simply bounce back overnight.

But after several months, I realised something wasn't right. Instead of getting smaller, I seemed to be getting bigger.

I joined boot camp three times a week, walked for miles pushing the pram, and focused on eating well. Despite all of that effort, nothing shifted.

At the same time, I noticed another change.

My breasts had lost their shape and fullness. They sat much lower than before and felt completely different.

(Think spaniel ears. If you know, you know. 😂)

Baby Number Two

A few years later, I fell pregnant with my son.

And somehow, he was even bigger than his sister.

The second pregnancy felt like the final nail in the coffin for the figure I once had.

Fourteen Years of Frustration

For the next 14 years, I tried everything.

Diets.

Exercise plans.

Lifestyle changes.

Medical investigations.

Blood tests.

Appointments.

Advice.

More advice.

I won't bore you with every detail because many of those attempts appear in previous posts, but after years of trying, every professional told me the same thing:

"There is nothing medically wrong with you."

Most recently, as a last resort, I tried Mounjaro.

Honestly, it felt like cheating, which is why I resisted it for so long.

Imagine my heartbreak when it did absolutely nothing.

I didn't lose a single pound.

Well... apart from the pounds disappearing from my bank account because that stuff is expensive! 😂

Throughout all those years, one thing never changed.

I always knew I wanted a breast uplift.

I told myself it would be my reward once I reached a certain weight goal.

The problem was that goal never seemed to come.

Learning to Love Myself ❤️

Eventually, I reached a point where I was simply tired of trying to become someone else.

Instead of endlessly chasing a different body, I decided I needed to learn how to love the one I have.

That sounds lovely in theory.

In reality, it's hard work.

It requires changing the way you see yourself and challenging everything you've been taught about beauty.

But there were two things I always struggled to accept:

🔹 My drooping breasts

🔹 My overhanging tummy

Those weren't just physical insecurities.

They affected how I dressed.

They affected what activities I felt comfortable doing.

They affected my confidence.

I love swimming, but I stopped going because I could never find a swimsuit that supported my chest like a bra while also making me feel comfortable around my stomach.

And over time, those feelings seeped into other areas of my life.

Including my relationship with my husband.

When you feel uncomfortable in your own skin, it follows you everywhere.

The Conversation That Changed Everything

Recently, I went away for a girls' weekend with some incredible women I've known since school.

We lost touch for years but reconnected a few years ago, and they've become my ride-or-die group.

During a conversation, one friend casually mentioned she'd had a breast uplift.

I was shocked.

I had absolutely no idea.

Then I realised that, in our group of six, three women had had some form of cosmetic procedure.

When I mentioned I'd always wanted a breast uplift, she simply asked:

"What's stopping you?"

And honestly?

I couldn't answer.

Was it money?

Fear of judgement?

Fear of the pain?

(I am ridiculously squeamish.)

Or was I afraid that surgery wouldn't magically make me love myself?

Whatever the reason, that question stayed with me.

Making the Decision

That weekend planted a seed.

When I got home, I started researching seriously.

I wasn't even sure I'd qualify because my BMI is higher than ideal.

But after consultations and assessments, I discovered that I do qualify.

And now...

I'm booked.

I'm ready.

And next month, this journey officially begins.

What's Next?

So that's the backstory.

That's the "why."

In my next post, I'll share the "how"—the consultations, decision-making process, surgeon selection, costs, fears, and everything else that led me here.

If you've ever considered cosmetic surgery, struggled with body confidence, or are simply curious about the process, feel free to follow along.

I'll be sharing the whole journey—the good, the bad, and the hopefully very uplifted. 😉💕

This isn't about becoming someone else. It's about feeling comfortable as me.

Do what makes you most happiest...

This is something I have long forgotten but something I am aiming to rectify.

I have been looking inwardly for a while now as I realised I have lost myself a bit. I have spent so long being mum, wife, councillor, chauffer, chef, cleaner, dog walker business owner etc etc etc (you get the idea) that I don't really know who I am anymore or what makes me tick. My son asked me last Mothers day what I would like to do as it was 'my day' - I honestly couldn't answer and my 11 year old boy just said "that's really sad". He was absolutely right, that is sad!

When did I just stop living my own life to serve everyone else?

I like to paint and have recently made time to complete a run of adult paint by numbers to decorate my living room with. I also started doing acrylic paintings and watching some Bob Ross for inspiration. This is a good start but I'm not passionate about it.

Today I remembered what I used to be passionate about and that was writing so I am back on my blog to find out if that passion is still there, deep down somewhere.

What I love about writing on here is that I always set out to write about a specific topic but my thoughts and feelings (and typing fingers I guess) take me somewhere else entirely. I wrote in a previous post about how this blog serves as a therapy for me. It's always been a good place to get my thoughts down and help understand them better. 
This topic is no different as I have just felt 'lost' for such a long time but even this one small post has lightened that feeling already... this is me and where I should be, writing for the world to see :) (well my handful of readers anyway).

How did I get here?

To answer that is difficult as it creeps up over time. With each new responsibility, burden, role etc a small part of me disappeared... very slowly at first and over a long period of time until there was not much left.

After having my second child is when it really started. Being mum to 2 children (3 if you count the husband 😉) is very time consuming. Over time I also got 2 dogs which take up lots of my time - but these are the healthy timewasters as they force me to go out for therapeutic walks even when my depression is heightened and I don't want to leave the house.

Both my children (now 11 and 16 years old) have an agent and are often going to casting calls etc. My daughter does so many clubs (dancing, singing and acting), has a part time job and tutors younger children in Math within their own homes and my son does golf lessons and requests countless trips to the skatepark to perfect the grazing of his arms and legs on his skateboard. All of this requires me to drive them, wait around and generally schedule my time, dinner and any of my own activities around them. Honestly my diary looks like a code breakers worst nightmare!

Oh I forgot to mention I also run a Financial Services company with my husband (Henden Financial). I look after the staff, HR, marketing, and oversee compliance and admin processes so you know, no biggy (exhausted sigh).

But the thing that really erased my real self was illnesses. Since turning 30 (some time ago now) I have been riddled with so many issues. Nothing life threatening or considerably life changing by the way so believe me I do count myself very fortunate still and won't ever think I have been dealt a rough hand as so many are in worse situations. These illnesses just taught me to make myself as invisible as possible.

I hate sympathy with a passion. As mentioned above, we are all going through something, so I don't like to accept sympathy as I never feel very deserving of it. So in an effort to avoid this and to not be a burden to anyone I started to be as unnoticed as possible. 

On a night out I used to be in considerable pain so just kinda took a seat and acted as if 'I don't really do dancing', that way people stop asking you to dance after a while, completely unaware that its not that you don't want to, its simply that you can't as your body won't allow it. The only problem with this particular trick is that now the pain is sorted I don't know how to get back out of that seat and find the confidence I used to have to dance. 

I have a million other little tricks I have used to be 'seen but not heard' but the most effective I found was to simply not leave my house. Come up with excuses to not go to events or meet friends for coffee etc. A very effective way to not be a burden but sadly a vey good way to drift away from people and stop getting invites at all... in essence losing the biggest part of myself.

However, never one to dwell on past mistakes I am rectifying and making amends. The people currently around me know my struggles (to a degree) and tolerate my lack of confidence while trying to build me up so with that in mind I am going to write more, make time for myself and generally say 'yes' more!

DO WHAT MAKES YOU HAPPY 🌈

This pic is because Chris Hemsworth makes me happy so this was a good day 😄

Light therapy - The results

I have been very bad at keeping a written update on my light therapy so now that I have had the last session I thought I would share the results.


Before I go into that I will give you some pros and cons of the light therapy from my perspective (everyone reacts differently).

Cons

• Gives you a constant tan - May not sound like a con but I have become paranoid that people think I am using sun beds... I point out constantly that its medical.

• Redness on days of treatment - Immediately after treatment I am fine but throughout the day you get redder and redder until you become a human glowstick. It doesn't hurt but does make you very hot.

• Goggle marks - to begin with I had to wear these little goggles which left my burning red face with ridiculous white goggle marks. It was getting ridiculous so as I don't really have Psoriasis on my face I opted to use sun block on my face for the last 10 sessions which helped alot

• Burnt nipples - true thing! how often do your nipples see the sun? so when they were exposed to this UV ray i did actually burn them so again I opted for sun cream on my face and nipples.

• Time - I have felt like the hospital is my second home. I have perfected the f*ck off look to the charity guy who sits in the foyer. There is only so many times they can approach you before you start thinking "seriously you still don't recognise me as you have harassed me twice a week for the last 4 months!

• Itching - Anyone who has psoriasis knows the phrase "it has to get worse to get better". There is a moment with all the psoriasis treatments where it starts to work a bit but when your skin starts to repair it can be the most incredible itchy sensation. Yes, it is short lived (sometimes a few days) but its hard to do normal things while you just want to cry and scratch off your skin.

Pro's

There is only one. See pictures below of my arm:

I think this picture says it all!

However, although my arms are better my torso is not quite clear.

Because of this they are moving me to 10 sessions on a different machine. It is PUVA treatment. Same kind of thing but I have to take a tablet 2 hours before treatment to make my skin more sensitive.
Biggest downside to this one is that on days I have treatment I must wear sunglasses all day and cover up any skin all day so if you see me indoors wearing sunglasses I am not hungover, it is medical lol!!!

For anyone suffering please please please give the light therapy a go. As you can see it is so worth it!