Wednesday 3 October 2012

40 Years On and Jimmy Savile is STILL hurting me!

I did a TV interview last year for Newsnight. The producer had read my sequel book 'Keri-Karin' online (FanStory.com/DecrepitOldBag), guessed that JS was Jimmy Savile and contacted me to ask for an interview to expose him as a child abuser.  After a lot of pressure I agreed.  They interviewed me at home, on camera, last October, which was after my chemoradiotherapy and a month before my surgery for bowel cancer.

But the programme editors dumped the programme and it did not air because : "she's probably lying." and apparently, CPS said there was no way to substantiate what I'd said. I was understandably aggrieved. After the emotional turmoil and stress of coming out on camera and admitting to performing disgusting sex acts with a disgusting pervert when I was a very vulnerable teenager and finally, after carrying it for 40 years, I was not believed. Not easy to cope with BUT I had to concentrate on my cancer and trying to get well again.

After my surgery, when I came out of hospital with a 20cm x 18cm x 4 cm deep open wound in my abdomen and was confined to bed, so, so sick and unable to move, the phone calls began.  From reporters.  The guy who interviewed me for the BBC, who desperately wanted to expose Jimmy Savile for the pervert he was, one Meirion Jones, had given ALL my personal details to every single reporter in the country.  That's my name, address, telephone, date of birth, address, mobile number -- everything.

All through my recovery and beyond I've been plagued by reporters wanting my story again. On the phone.  On my mobile.  Unsolicited at the front door.  In the street.  Followed into shops.  It has been a very hard 10 months.

Sunday evening I was contacted by: BBC radio! Wanted me to phone in to their programme where people were talking about whether Jimmy Savile was a child abuser or not.  Furious with them because of what BBC put me through, I declined -- and then I contacted Mark Williams Thomas, the guy who has a TV programme on tonight (Wenesday 3rd October 2012) on ITV 11.10pm -- one of the reporters who had been begging me to speak out again.  He came out to my home yesterday with a camera crew.  It was VERY stressful of course, but I did an interview with him.  It lasted around two hours.

This time, I had not only to explain what happened with Jimmy Savile. I also had to explain that I had told the BBC and not been believed and suffered terribly for 12 months because of it.

Today, I have telephoned Metropolitan police, as Mark Williams Thomas advised me to do. I now have to wait for a local police officer to call at my home and take a statement. This is not over; it has only just begun.

Thursday 26 April 2012

They say things are sent to try us.  It seems to me that millions of things are constantly sent to try ME!

Once again I had an awful night.  I just cannot sleep comfortably on my back.  Now that I am a little more mobile, I keep turning to my side in my sleep and then waking up because I am laying on the stoma/bag or, if on the other side, the bag is beginning to peel away.  So I turn, wake up, thrash about on my back for a bit, doze off, turn, wake up and so it goes on.  By morning I ache all over and feel like crap -- and there's always plenty of that becvause the damnable bag needs emptying!

But today I have an attack of cystitis to add to my woes.  Now, in addition to feeling like I need to 'poo via the normal route' (I don't, of course.  Not with an Ileostomy, but it just feels like it all the time) I now feel like I need to piss all the time too.  I rush to the toilet, only to pass two or three agonising burning drops.  Exit the toilet eyes watering and doing that funny walk only cystitis suffers know and try to sit down at the computer and get on with some writing.  Problem is, how am I supposed to concentrate on anything at all when it hurts to sit down and all I can think of is bladder/bowel/poo bag?  Very frustrating.

Wednesday 25 April 2012

You know, I'd actually completely forgotten I'd signed up to this or that I'd alrady made one huge blog of an event which seems rather silly now.  Back in January 2011 when I made that first blog, I thought I'd got Irritable Bowel Syndrome.  It turns out I had Bowel Cancer -- otherwise known as Colorectal Cancer.  In fact, I had a ten centimetre tumour growing in my rectum.

Didn't I say at the outset of that former post that I was full of shit?  I did.  Didn't I say I cuss a lot?  I did.

Well, now I'm less full of shit and more covered in shit.  You see, after the foul colonoscopy to find out why I was bleeding from my ass, they discovered a thing called Diverticulosis (posh name for a bowel disease), colonic polyps (lovely) and as I already said, this ten centimetre tumour.

So I panicked.  (Who wouldn't)  Remember though, like I said in the previous blog I blow everything up way out of proportion.  This was bigger than the biggest thing I could imagine or dream up in my worst nightmare and most certainly NOT what I expected.

So the hospital rushed to treat me and I snivelled and grizzled and tried to run away and didn't want their damned treatments but had them anyway -- and nearly died as I was allergic to the chemo drugs -- and had the awful radiotherapy and then ... surgery.  Massive surgery.

I spent Christmas in hospital.  The operation itself was on 22nd December.  They opened me up from breastbone (sternum) to pubis, cut out my rectum and half my sigmoid colon, added an Ileostomy and then stitched me up again.  All this without any bowel prep at all.  (There must have been shit everywhere in that operating room).

Of course I got an infection (even though prior to the operation when I was worried about getting an infection, they said the chances were 'negligible') and then they opened the wound up again.  They kicked me out of hospital on 30th December with a 22cm x 12cm x 5cm deep wound in my abdomen and sent me home to get on with it.  Ileostomy bag hanging off as there was not enough skin to stick to next to the open wound.

I spent four months flat on my back in bed in my living room being attended to daily by nurses, carers and family members.  The wound was massive.  I could see all the deep tension stitches.  One doesn't usually get to see inside one's abdomen and believe me, it's not a pretty sight! 

The Ileostomy leaked with monotonous regularity ... into the wound of course.  Waking up literally covered in shit inside and out is one of the most unpleasant things that can happen to you!  I've had so many courses of antibiotics to counteract the EColi infections in the wound.  It's vile.

Although I'm a bit better now.  At least, the wound is now 10cm x 1cm x 1cm deep, itching, flaking and still too close to the stoma.  The bag leaks less often but because the stoma itself was incorrectly formed I am unable to change my own stoma bag so cannot be independent.  I have a permanent disfigurement so that I appear as if I have an arse on my abdomen now.  I hate it.

Still, as the NHS have pointed out ... the cancer was my own fault (of course it was).  It is not their responsibility and I should not whine as I am still alive!  Hey-ho.  I actually spent the first three months after surgery wishing I had died.  Certainly I wished I had not had the surgery!

Oh yeah, did I mention?  I quit smoking on the day of the operation too.  from forty a day to zero.  Just like that.

The 14 year old oik is now 15, has had all his lovely long hair cut off and lifts weights now.  He is still 15 going on 50, wiser than his years, brave as a lion (after all, he nearly lost his Mum) and I love him to bits.