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Have you ever had a chicken curry that’s so good, you’ll spend the next 10 years ordering it at restaurants just hoping to get that same sensation again? No? Then don’t read this. Yes, read on.     We were in Bali over Chinese New Year and one night we ordered a take-away curry from this restaurant (I believe) called Warung Little India. Unfortunately, there were six adults and only one serving of the chicken curry left, but man oh man that tiny amount of curry was a mouth-watering delight. The rest of the food was amazing as well, but the chicken curry – to die for.   Put it on your list if you’re planning a trip to Ubud. The whole town is full of amazing restaurants I tell ya, but the Indian should not be missed.   The incredible, mouth-watering experience that comes with a world-class curry is something I hope for every time I order this delicious dish. I don’t know what the combination is that gets it so right, but the rarity of the experience leaves me always living in hope I can find it just one more time.   Living in Asia, I get a much greater opportunity to find the delectable dish, but unfortunately, with so much MSGin the food around these parts, it’s hard for me to risk it locally. That’s a complete bummer, but the headache I get, as well as other symptoms, just doesn’t make it worth it.   One place I have found for curry in Singapore is the Polo Club. They do an awesome chicken curry with roti bread. If you’ve never had a curry with roti, can I just tell you to change your life instantly and have it? Amazing.   Of course you can always get a great butter chicken in Singapore. What a delight when Vantaseopened up at the condo down the road! We are spoilt for choice with Indian restaurants in this city and I’ve got to tell you, Singapore does the BEST Indian food in the world. Don’t agree? I don’t care. I know it’s true.   My favorite favorite curry in town will always be Colombosdown on Boat Quay. It’s Sri Lankan food and I want to visit that country so bad, I can’t tell you. If you’ve visited me in Singapore and I didn’t take you to Colombos. My apologies. Come back and I promise you we’ll do it. The food, the view, the service. Love it.   Back to day dreaming about my ideal chicken curry… I wish I could have it for dinner tonight… But it’s not on the menu.   Although, my friend Rachel (an amazing cook) made me dinner recently and do you know what was on the menu? Beetroot Curry. Beetroot I know. Steve would’ve died (he cannot understand the Australian obsession with beetroot) but let me tell you something – it was bloody amazing! Thanks babe.   Most importantly about Rachel’s curry is that the sauce she made is exactly the sauce I crave for in a chicken curry, but success is more than that. The quality of the chicken is a critical part of a curry’s success. If you get that wrong, by drying the chicken out or only doing white meat… well it’s a fail.   Ahhhh chicken curry, how I love thee. I just wish I knew your magic ingredients. The only two I know that are essential are curry leaves and lime leaves. Beyond that, I have no idea. So I keep looking and hoping.   As my mouth waters for a chicken curry I want you to do me a favor: Send me your perfect recipe Tell me where I can get an amazing chicken curry in Singapore that has no MSG If I visit you, take me to the place where you have the bestest chicken curry in the world Deal?   Is chicken curry your thing, or do you have another foodie quest that keeps you living in hope?   Yours, without the bollocks Andrea   BTW I’m on Twitter here, Google+ here, Instagram here, and Facebook too, if you’re interested in the other stuff I share. Feel free to share my blog if you think anyone you know will be interested or entertained. I sure do appreciate it when you do xxxxx

It’s our youngest sons – Jax – 8th birthday today. Eight! Where did the time go I hear you ask? Well we’ve lived every minute of it, so I can’t tell you it’s flashed by. Not at all. But it’s been a ride. So our message to the Jaxster   Happy Birthday little man and we hope you feel suitably spoilt and special today. It’s kind of handy for you having a mum born on New Year’s Day, because I remember what it’s like to have a birthday at a time when it’s nothing but a blip in the minds of everyone as the post-Christmas lethargy sets in. You will always be special on your big day son – that’s a promise.   But we’re celebrating your big day for another reason as well – your Dad and I. Apparently, this is the end of the illogical, chaos years, otherwise known as childhood.   Those years when we can’t reason with you. When you cry at the drop of a hat. When everything you do is overshadowed by emotion and a lack of common sense. When you are random in your activities and illogical in your motives. When you still require us to do so many of the mundane things – dress you, tie your shoes, brush your teeth, entertain you, keep you focused or occupied, and on it goes.   It’s not that we’ve minded doing those things for you. Much of it has been a pleasure. But we’re nine years into this parenting malarkey (including your brother of course) and you know what, we’re ready to move on. Are you?   We feel like you are. You seem to have grown up so much in the last year, it’s mind blowing. You’re demanding your independence now and we love that mate! Go fly and be free son, but always remember the most important thing is to be confident, kind and respectful – that’s all we ask of you and we’re here to guide you if you want it.   Also now that you’ve had your tonsils and adenoids out, you might get better quality sleep and perhaps we’ll start seeing you accelerate at school like we know you can? That’d be nice love. Last year was a bit stressful for your old parents.   You are a firey one Jaxy! Boy you like an argument don’t you? Being right is important to you as well. You’re obstinate, argumentative, stubborn, pig-headed, dogged, tenacious, confrontational, contrary, adamant, determined… and yet research proves this is a good thing. This article ‘Your Stubborn Kid Will Probably Be A Wildly Successful Adult Says Science’ proves the point.   Hey Steve, let’s not worry about retirement savings. Jax will be rich enough to take care of us – awesome!   I have to say we feel like we’re living through a balancing act now. Trying to ensure you have enough space to develop your own voice, while helping you understand that the most important thing is to be kind and to listen to others. Let’s face it, being right doesn’t always feel good for you anyway – does it darls? Trust me, it’s true. Everyone has a view, listen to them.   But we’re not worried about you mate. You’re growing up, working out who you are, finding your voice, discovering your passions, uncovering your humour, and experimenting at this great game called life. It’s pretty fascinating watching you on this growing-up journey I must say.   We both picture you, walking out the door about a decade from now, all six foot three of you, probably with heaving muscles, and the people you give your heart to are going to be very lucky indeed. You’re certainly a lover my sweet one.   The truth is you’re soft and sensitive, although most people don’t see this side of you. Don’t worry, we know it darling. We’re here to help with the pain in your heart when you need it mate. We understand what that feels like.   Jax we just want you to know that we think you’re a special fella. A total pain in the arse for sure, but we’re at the end of the chaos years now, so happy birthday to my darling boy, and welcome back to sanity for Steve and I (please let it be true). What a ride!   Yours, without the bollocks Andrea         PS: If anyone would like to blow my bubble on the chaos years not being over, right now, please feel free to go and get stuffed!   PPS: not following any of my social pages? Check it out below. I’m a busy beaver sharing lots of loving about all sorts of topics – funny, engaging and surreal. The majority is not my own stuff, just in case you were wondering. If you want to join my community, I’m on Twitter here, Google+ here, Instagram here, and Facebook too. Feel free to share my blog if you think anyone you know will be interested or entertained. I sure do appreciate it when you do xxxxx

Mucous. Like really really.   We all have that one thing that turns our stomach right? For me it’s mucous. Closely followed by people chewing gum in my hearing (can’t stand that smacking noise). I used to hate pubes on soap too. Seem to have gotten over that one. Maybe because no one has pubes anymore…   Anyhoo having babies was HARD for me and Steve had to deal with a lot of the unfortunate situations that arise before your little mites can deal with it themselves. Request: do not bring your child near me if they have a runny nose, please!   But living in Asia and having spent years travelling this majestic region, I’ve had to confront this demon.  The sniffing, snorting, clearing of throats, and the oh-so-lovely hurling up of a dockyard-oyster anywhere you like. Ugh! The worst was my adventures backpacking in China in 1995. I wore white pants once (yeah, I know, who backpacks with white pants? I learnt that lesson) only to come back to the hostel in the evening to see that my thongs (flip flops) had been flicking slag up the back of my pants all day long. Revolting!   Nothing could prepare me for the mucous experience I had this week though. As part of Jax’s post-op care, I took him back to the surgeon for a final check-up. Steve did the previous appointment and did not warn me – he knew better.   So we’re all set to go and they get out this contraption with a long steel tube. It goes straight up Jax’s nose and OH MY GOD!! There was copious amounts of stuff coming out and I could see it all through a clear tube. Stomach heave!   But I couldn’t run away. This was a rather unpleasant experience for the Jaxster too, and I had to stay there to try and keep him calm, all the while dealing with bile in my mouth and a roiling stomach that wanted to unleash a torrent.   Let’s not forget the ladies doing this procedure – every single day. I mean it’s part of their job. I JUST CAN NOT IMAGINE A WORSE JOB!   Let’s be honest here, you’ve got to face some rather unfortunate – and all too human – aspects of life when you become a parent, but I seriously believe I have found my threshold. No way. Never again. Steve you are doing it!   To cap that lovely experience off, the next morning I had a coffee meeting and we were sitting on a street in a cool part of town. Three people walked past and in line of sight cleared their nose on the street. THREE! Just blew it out there. Not to mention sitting right next to me was another guy who sniffed his way through his coffee.   Ahhhhhhhhhh! I hate it.   What’s your one thing?   Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

Late last year, Steve and I were invited to two parent evenings with the boy’s schools. One was a parents’ night for Jax’s school, and it was a nice evening. We’re not very good at doing the school thing, but there are some good people and we know we should try harder. Challenging when one of us is often away. However, a week before this I was invited to a ladies’ night for Lex’s school, and as you’ll probably know, Lex is still in a special needs school here in Singapore. This night knocked it out of the park – it was amazing – and I’ve thought about it a lot since. I’d already missed a ladies’ night with this gang earlier in the year. The truth is I didn’t prioritize it because past experiences of parents around special needs schools just hasn’t worked for me. Individuals yes, gangs no. I’m also not the biggest fan of lady only events. I like blokes too. Anyhoo my friend Rachel told me I had to come because the last one was a blast, and well, Rachel knows! I had no idea what to expect, but Rachel was there early with a bottle of Verve on ice, as good as any place to start. Over the next hour the rest of the ladies arrived. All were dressed up and looking fabulous and it was an international crowd, coming from every corner of the globe. They were all ready to party too. As the bubbles did their job (and we only drank Verve that night – quite right) my word what a conversation we had. You see this group of women have something in common that no one without a special needs experience (or seriously ill child) can understand. We’ve all had to come to terms with the worst rejection of all – the rejection of our children – by mainstream schools, special needs schools, families, friends, you name it. This rejection almost always comes with very little empathy. No one understands how much that hurts. We’ve all experienced raised eye brows as our mini-loves do something a little bit weird. We’ve all had to come to terms with the fact – for the short term or the long term – our child will not be able to have a “normal” education and maybe they won’t have a normal life either. We’ve had to come to terms with cultural rejection, especially those who come from societies where any sort of disability is seen as something to be ashamed of. We had many ladies in this category that evening. We’ve had to come to terms with people not being able to see the beautiful souls of our children and can only see the surface challenges. Ahhh the beauty they are missing. We’ve had to come to terms with a world desperate to put a label on our children because it makes everyone else’s life easier, and yet it might be the very thing that destroys our child’s future potential. We’ve had to endure the enormous physical challenges that come with raising a child who has special needs. Some of the children need to be constantly held because they can’t walk properly. Some need to be constantly monitored because they have a different sense of danger. Some are prone to emotional outbursts that are hard to take in public with the judgmental stares of strangers. And while I have not had to face these things with Lex, I have watched parents handle these challenges and I know the exhaustion that comes with it, and the relentlessness that comes with it too. Parenting is already relentless. Parenting with this on top is extremely challenging. We’ve also had to face the emotional anxiety that comes with just wanting your child to fit in, to be accepted, to have the life you want for them. I know Lex will eventually have this, I know this is not the case for everyone. We’ve all had to face our own self-doubts. We’ve struggled with children who demand something you don’t always have the energy to give. For me it’s been patience. For the others I’m sure they have their own thing. And we’ve struggled on so many other levels.  Our struggles have each been unique. But all have struggled on a level of emotional intensity that most people never see in this life. It is raw and it is powerful, because it is about wanting only the very best for your child, and succeeding is not always apparent. The thing is, we didn’t talk about any of this that night and of course, I’m talking for ladies who can talk for themselves. But this was my underlying sense of the evening. The thing we had in common. We talked about a lot of other stuff of course and we were completely outrageous. It was hilarious. I also know that if anyone tried to get into our gang that evening, they would have been promptly told to fuck off. We didn’t need anyone else. My sense was that everyone felt safe being amongst this beautiful gang of women who had been stripped to the emotional bone and survived. We were being embraced within a shared experience. We just didn’t need to talk about it. I can’t think of any other evening where a group of people bonded on such a raw, human level, that can only come from all of us having lived through the agony of a child that is struggling. Whether it’s special needs or a serious illness, I think parents who go through these experiences can relate, and that night, I realized a community like this is important to me too. Why did I stay away from it for so long? I’ve thought about that night a lot since. I loved spending time with those crazy gals. Perhaps it is time for another ladies’ night, but this time a Friday? Shit I had a hangover the next day. For anyone else

He is ready but refused the paper undies Jax had his tonsils and adenoids out five days ago. We’ve been around the traps a few times with kiddy operations, but it seems it’s not something you ever get used to. It rips your heart out and the sweat stress stinks! We’ve been very lucky though, as we have two, strong, healthy boys, so definitely nothing to complain about. They recover fast.   As Jax was waiting to go into surgery, Steve and I were sharing our tonsil memories to distract him (and us) from what was coming. We were also seven at the time, and I remember the experience as clear as day. I remember where my hospital bed was in the kids’ ward, the feeling of love and concern from my parents, the gift I got for being a brave girl, and even the jelly I got to eat. Steve also had very strong memories – also good.   Not bad for almost 40 years after the fact.   At that moment it occurred to me how important this experience could be for our little guy – aka an Inside Out ‘core memory’ moment. Something he could potentially remember much later in life! Shite, there’s some responsibility! Steve we better make this awesome.   So we did our best. Lots of love and concern. Lots of attention and cuddles. But lots of giggles and silliness too. He didn’t come out of the operation with a sense of humour though – that took a couple of days to kick back in. We kept the whole experience light though. How else do you get through these things?   Family selfie pre-op With all that said, if anything is going to lock this in as a core memory, I think it is pain. Jax does not want to go back to hospital. All romance and nonchalance about hospitals is over. He now knows he can go into hospital and wake up with a VERY big ouchie in his throat. Definitely a ‘Not Happy Jan’ moment.   But he’s come through it awesomely and as I write this, he’s out having a Nerf war with the kids in our condo. He’ll be fine to start his new school year tomorrow.   However pain isn’t the only reason for a core memory. Disgust is too. I was three when mum dished up lambs fry. I don’t know why, but she constantly cooked revolting food and the four of us constantly refused to eat it. There was a lot of fighting and tears around our dinner table that’s for sure. But of all the foods she cooked, lambs fry was the worst. Revolting stuff.   This morning. He’s doing great Anyway, this evening I remember sitting at the table refusing to eat it. I got in so much trouble but stubbornness and me were already friends. No way was I putting that foul shit in my mouth. They eventually gave up, but the next day, it was served up as lunch at my pre-school. The staff were instructed that I had to eat it. I didn’t.   They kept going though and at the end of the school day, while all of the other kids were playing just outside the window, I sat with that foul concoction in front of me, still refusing to eat it. I remember my dad came to pick me up that day, and the look of compassion on his face is deeply etched in my memory. I can only imagine how retched tiny-little-me looked, sitting in the window, still refusing to eat it.   I won that battle, and I reckon those sorts of wins are important for one’s development. It’s also impacted how I parent today.   I will never force the boys to eat anything. Encourage, not force. I want them to find their love for the food they eat – whether it’s now or later – because it’s more important that none of their core memories are tied to an unpleasant food moment. I’ve got too many of them and am doing my darndest to make sure my boys don’t. I know they’ll be braver than I when it comes to food.   Core memories are fascinating. Care to share one of yours with me?   Yours, without the bollocks Andrea   BTW I’m on Twitter here, Google+ here, Instagram here, and Facebook too, if you’re interested in the other stuff I share. Feel free to share my blog if you think anyone you know will be interested or entertained. I sure do appreciate it when you do xxxxx

This has been an incredible week with the passing of both David Bowie and Alan Rickman. I often wonder how they’d feel seeing the outpouring of love, admiration and respect following their passing? It’s been powerful. It’s been amazing to see how deeply people have been impacted by both of them in their lives. But mostly, I’ve been reflecting on the influence people can have on us, and yet, we’ve never met them.   David Bowie wasn’t “my” influence. I certainly loved him, but for me it was always Abba as a little gal, and then Freddie Mercury and Madonna as a teenager. They are part of me. They influenced and changed the way I thought. They opened me up to new ideas. They showed me other possibilities for my life. They showed me that having guts and determination is what makes legends. That’s fabulous right? And I’m only getting started on the impact they had on me.   The reflections I’ve seen on social media this week for these two awesome men has really helped me to see and respect that – whoever your “influencer/s” was.   But it also helped me to see something else – and that is how fucking inspiring they both were for different reasons.   Alan Rickman for being one of the finest masters of his craft, and yet he didn’t get his first big international movie deal until he was 41. If you feel you’re getting too old to achieve what you want to achieve and are about to give up, take that as a nice, firm kick in the arse! You’re never too old. The people who knew him also speak of a very fine human being. That’s awesome.   David Bowie, on the other hand, was inspiring for different reasons. He trod paths no one had trod before. He was unashamedly himself. He fought tough issues but he did it elegantly. He was outrageous. He was cheeky. He was honest. He was filthy. He was an outstanding artist. He took risks. He failed. He kept going. He was beautiful. What an impact! He has literally changed the world for the better a little bit, and that’s one hell of a legacy to leave behind.   If I take one thing away from a week when we say goodbye to two great fellas, it is this. Let’s all be a little bit more Bowie and Rickman. Let’s reach for the stars and ignore any fucker that tells us it can’t be done – what do they know? Let’s believe we can, because we can. Let’s live life on the edge and scream our joy of it from the top of the hills, because why not? And while we’re at it, let’s drown out the haters. No space for hate in this world. The reality is, there’s only one truth and it is this – we’re not going to get out of this world alive, so why would any of us play small? Screw that.   I don’t know what my legacy will be, and I have no idea if I have the ability to change the world just a little bit, but if even one person wrote about me with the same regard they are giving to Alan Rickman and David Bowie this week, well then I would be rather pleased with a life well lived.   What do you reckon? What has the impact been on you?   Yours, without the bollocks Andrea   BTW I’m on Twitter here, Google+ here, Instagram here, and Facebook too, if you’re interested in the other stuff I share. Feel free to share my blog if you think anyone you know will be interested or entertained. I sure do appreciate it when you do xxxxx

My word this has been one hell of a year – in a great way mostly – but there’s been some shitty stuff in the mix too – i.e. Steve’s little heart scare, not fun that. And then I faced the last few months of the year at a speed I didn’t know I was capable of. I mean, look at how few Without the Bollocks blogs I’ve published? Unheard of! Proof I’ve been distracted.   We left Singapore for the festive season on the 23rd of December and boy did I get on that plane exhausted. Then after we arrived, we were jetted off to the country (gorgeous) but with no internet access at all… I mean no social media, no email, no nothing. Do you know what happened? I didn’t know what to do with myself that’s what happened. I felt lost, disconnected, at sea. It was really hard.     Of course, many would say you’re addicted, which of course appears to be true, but then all of this stuff is the core of my working and personal life. It’s not just a bit of fun, it’s how I stay connected with my communities around the world. That’s so important to me. I love it. For work specifically, it’s a huge part of my day-to-day life, so that’s why I’ve never seen it as an addiction – it’s really just an extension of who I am.   I appreciate many don’t understand this, and you may be calling bullshit, but it is what it is. In addition, as the year was ramping to a close, I’ve been going full throttle with work, family, life, celebrations, business functions, and so much more. Every night I’ve thrown myself on the pillow, scarcely getting enough sleep, just to get up and do it all over again, never in bed before midnight – and I like my sleep. I can’t remember finishing a year so exhausted, but then my post-op-recoveryprobably made it all a little more draining too.   Fun, fun, fun!   The thing is, 2015 has been an amazing year too. I am working in the heart of an industry I tried to get moving in Asia last decade. Too EARLY Andrea! Much too early. In fact, the prediction is that content marketing is only now going to hit its tipping point – yes in 2016. It’s felt like a very long haul fighting for something I’m so passionate about let me tell you.   But it’s here, it’s here, it’s here and I’m in the middle of it and I love it and now everyone wants to talk about it, and I write about it, and I speak on it, and I get so excited about it, because this stuff isn’t just fluff, this changes how we do business and it makes us nicer in business, because it’s all about being authentically connected to customers, and that – I believe – ultimately has the potential to make the world a better place.   That’s why I care about content marketing and social media, because I believe it will change the world for the better. Are you hearing me on that front? Or not quite bought into it yet? Meet me for a vodka and I promise I’ll change your mind.   So it has been a really great year and I feel very fortunate sitting in the sweet spot of my professional and personal passion, but I might have to balance things out a bit more in 2016. Maybe even get good at saying no. The madness is exciting though and I know myself. Full throttle is my norm.   So how has your year been? What was the most exciting bit? I hope it’s been awesome. Signing off now as we prepare to face the heat and the crowds in Melbourne for the kiddie scheduled fireworks. I’m expecting this to be a test of patience like nothing else and just hope it’s fun too. I hope whatever you do tonight is a blast and please, stay safe.   Happy Happy New Year and I hope 2016 is amazing for you and yours. I’ve decided it’s the year we’ve all got to come together and give some very big fucks about this world, but I’ll write about that in the New Year.   Finally, thank you thank you thank you for supporting my Without the Bollocks journey. I sure do appreciate it.   Have FUN tonight xxxxx   Yours, without the bollocks Andrea   BTW I’m on Twitter here, Google+ here, Instagram here, and Facebook too, if you’re interested in the other stuff I share. Feel free to share my blog if you think anyone you know will be interested or entertained. I sure do appreciate it when you do xxxxx

Merry Christmas to those who’ve been celebrating – I hope it’s all you’ve wanted it to be. We’re with family in country Victoria, outside of Melbourne in Australia and it’s glorious here. We hear Kookaburras’ singing in the evening and wake up to the strong scent of gum trees. It’s hard to explain that smell to someone who hasn’t experienced it before. The boys are having an absolute blast – lots of space for freedom and spending time with their cousins. They couldn’t be happier.   Anyhoo, last night my little Lexy, once again, expressed an enormous desire to fly after watching the movie Pan. I know most kids go through this phase to some extent, but I also know some yearn for it more than others. Lex is definitely in the latter category.   His intense desire to fly has been unwavering for years, and I’ll always remember the first time he asked me: “Mum why can’t I fly?   I immediately bit my tongue, before saying: “unfortunately you can’t fly darling, humans can’t fly.”   But I couldn’t say that to my Lexy. It didn’t feel right saying it either. I felt I would be putting a limitation on him, and just because no human has technically “flown” – with wings Vs manmade flying apparatus – I couldn’t tell him something was impossible, because every day I’m trying to let him know that nothing is impossible.   Besides, what do I know right?   So it almost seemed ordained when Robin Sharma posted this on Facebook this week (and I hope he doesn’t mind me sharing it here). I think it sums up my rationale perfectly. I never want to limit my boys.   There was once a child who wanted to fly.   Deep in his heart he knew he could.   But many around him warned him to avoid his delusion.   So he started to dim his light. And forget his dream.   He grew busy being busy.   And he grew older. Quickly.   One day, he met a magician.   “Make any wish and I’ll make it true.”   The boy, now a man, said “I used to know I could fly. Not really fly, but fly in the sense of do amazing things and create amazing works and live an amazing life. Fly like that.”   The magician listened.   “My life is so normal now. No fire. No energy. No hope. I think I’d like to feel I could fly again.”   The magician cast a simple spell. The boy, now a man, woke up the next morning and started living an amazing life. It didn’t happen instantly, for nothing wonderful ever does (all great things take time and great sacrifice.”   But the man started to believe again. Just believe.   And the belief created hope. And the hope created better choices. And better choices created wiser consequences.   And the boy, now a man, went on to transform his world through his tiny daily improvements. And in so doing, he made our world better too.   Robin Sharma   So my darling boy, always believe you can fly and chase that dream no matter what, because flying (as a dream) is different for all of us, and the only thing that matters is believing you can, because then you will. Who knows what you can achieve little man? I can’t wait to see it.   It’s a sweet story right? I thought it might be nice for all of us to enjoy, especially if you believed it when you were told you couldn’t fly.   With love and without the bollocks Andrea   BTW I’m on Twitter here, Google+ here, Instagram here, and Facebook too, if you’re interested in the other stuff I share. Feel free to share my blog if you think anyone you know will be interested or entertained. I sure do appreciate it when you do xxxxx

I was driving along with Steve the other day and said there are people I just don’t know well enough asking me what operation I had. I mean if it was something to do with my girly bits, what do I say? Or perhaps I had a colonoscopy – do I tell them ‘I had a camera shoved up my arse?’   The problem is, I know I do it myself. You can’t help but ask. I don’t believe it’s essentially a nosy thing, I think we’re all just looking to understand the seriousness of what has happened to someone so we can offer the appropriate level of reassurance to their situation. Or maybe I’m over-complicating things? Maybe we are nosy? Maybe nothing is sacred anymore?   When people tell me they’ve had an operation, I often find the words spilling out of my mouth “what happened? What did you get done?” But I always, always stop and say: “I am so sorry! Of course you don’t need to answer that question. You might have gone through something incredibly private or you just don’t want to tell me. I’m sorry for asking.”   When that happens, people have an opportunity to respond to the initial question if they want to, or they can say thanks for giving me a get out clause.   It’s not dissimilar to the question: “when’s the baby due?” Always a question you regret asking, especially when the person says: “I’m not pregnant, I’m just fat.” Doh! Don’t ask that question ever, ever again, unless you’re 100 percent sure the person IS pregnant OK? That is my rule.   I often find it interesting that there are just a few, small, situations, where a perfectly normal person – who typically engages their mind and heart before they open their mouth – finds that whatever mechanism is in place to stop them asking the inappropriate questions, seems to get bypassed. What operation have you had is one of those questions.   But getting back to my conversation with Steve. He came up with a perfect response:    “It’s simple, you tell them you had your left labia sculpted into the shape of a rose” and then you leave them with that.   Perfect no?     Can anyone top Steve’s response?   Go on, give me a laugh. It’s been a tough couple of weeks.   Yours, without the bollocks Andrea   BTW I’m on Twitter here, Google+ here, Instagram here, and Facebook too, if you’re interested in the other stuff I share. Feel free to share my blog if you think anyone you know will be interested or entertained. I sure do appreciate it when you do xxxxx

Friday night (early Saturday morning) excruciating agony kicks in. The same thing happened five days before, and six months before that, but nowhere near as bad. It was time to take it seriously, and based on the genetic history of my family, stones were a likely candidate. I was right, it was stones. Shit that stuff hurts!!   Unlike the last incidents (when I decided to get through the pain, because sometimes that’s less scary than facing hospital) I knew I had to act, so I asked Steve to take me to the hospital at 2am. Sorry love. But he knew it as well – no more messing around. He felt like I was a ticking time bomb now.   My mini loves were anxious for their mumma. I was just happy when they let me wash my hair! Four days later and I finally get out of the hospital. There was talk of me staying in another night, even though the surgeon said I could go home, but the specialist had “concerns.” There was a risk something else could happen – a stone travelling into my liver, which wouldn’t be a good thing. She let me go in the end. You never want to stay in hospital a minute longer than you have to right? Besides, of course nothingelse would happen. I’m lucky. Fingers crossed it won’t.   But during this little soiree, two extremely weird things happened. The first when Steve was saying goodbye as I was being rolled off to surgery. I knew he wouldn’t be there when I got out, because I insisted he went home to be there for the boys when they woke up. I didn’t want them spun out hearing their mum was in hospital. Thankfully he listened. But it got me all emotional.   He bid me adieu through his own tears, but I couldn’t stop crying. I’m on the chopping block and they’re trying to calm me down – I’m trying to calm me down – but I just kept getting more and more hysterical… Let’s just say I’m not a fan of crying in front of strangers – definitely not my thing. Thankfully the drugs kicked in and I was gone.   Next thing I was viciously woken up and took two gulping breaths with no air coming in. Not being able to breath certainly wakes you up quickly right! But then I was hit by a wall of pain. Excruciating. I had people all around me, but all with their backs to me, and they were ignoring me. I was moaning, crying out in pain, pleading “please can you help me?” Occasionally a voice would come close to my ear, just a minute, we’ll give you more pain medicine when we get you back to your room.   But I don’t want it when I get back to my room. I want it now. It hurts so much. Help. Help. Please can someone help me. No one helped. At least I don’t think they did. It was awful. Back in my room, the pain continued. The pain started at 12am and finished at 1.30am. I knew the time better than anything else in that moment, because hospitals have clocks everywhere. I was in the usual befuddled state one gets into when coming out of anesthetics, but I knew the bloody time.   My view for four days I also knew something wasn’t right. I’ve woken up from operations before and pain is the last thing you feel. Did someone miss something? Why am I hurting? Help. Please help. I’m in my room, people were there sometimes. Mostly I was alone. I got an injection in the arm. An hour and a half later it stopped hurting, the room was empty. They left the lights on. The nurse call button wasn’t anywhere I could reach. I couldn’t get up. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t do anything. The light was hurting my eyes.   I was befuddled, confused, and eventually, not in pain, but shit, what was that all about? I kept asking the doctors and nurses the next day, but no one wanted to talk about it. I get that, but I wish someone said there was a mistake, or you didn’t take to the pain killer we gave you, or, or, or, but of course, that would never happen would it? I might sue the fucking hospital.   I’ve never sued anyone in my life and I’m not about to start now. An explanation would have been nice though.   It’s done now, but Steve and I have certainly agreed that if there are future operations, the other will be there afterwards. It was definitely nice when Steve was in the hospital making things happen for me. Although I have to say, I’m glad he didn’t see me going through that. It would’ve been awful for him to watch!   I survived, one less organ in my body which I’m bummed about, but I’m doing a whole lot better than most people in this life. I’m just happy to be home – tender, tired and with a bloody HEADACHE (coffee withdrawal? Too many drugs whirling through my system?) – but home with my loves. The only thing that matters.   Anyone else wake up from an operation in agony?   Yours, without the bollocks Andrea   BTW I’m on Twitter here, Google+ here, Instagram here, and Facebook too, if you’re interested in the other stuff I share. Feel free to share my blog if you think anyone you know will be interested or entertained. I sure do appreciate it when you do xxxxx