Fuck the #holdacokeinyourboobs challenge!

Today I was browsing my emails, and I receive one that made me so upset, I simply couldn’t stop the tears from falling. I’m sure that if anyone reads this, they will have heard of the #holdacokewithyourboobs challenge. I was utterly sickened when I read it. People are blindly following along and doing this whilst stupidly thinking that they are raising awareness of/fundraising for breast cancer.

What they do not know its that this fad has absolutely NOTHING to do with fundraising for breast cancer. Some utterly vile little scumbag from a modelling agency, Elite Talent Referral created this. A modelling agency! Who give zero fucks about breast cancer and many fucks about getting their name publicised because of this story.

What is holding a can of coke between your boobs going to do to cure breast cancer? Absolutely fuck all. Are you going to donate money to Breakthrough or another Breast Cancer charity? Nope. You’ll just put a picture of your tits and a coke can, expecting all your friends to tell you how brave you are and what a good thing you did. Well you haven’t, OK? If you want to do something good, go and volunteer to shake a collecting tin for a charity on your local high street all day. Go and volunteer to hand out leaflets about breast self examination to other women!

The only wonderfully and heart rendingly brave thing I have seen to come out of this are the actions of one young woman. She is by far the bravest and the most beautiful of all the women that have got their chests out over this issue.

Brave, brave Aimee shows us all how to raise awareness with her amazing picture from Twitter. This is how I discovered Aimee’s story and was motivated to write this blog post for her.

Believe the reality, not the glamour!!!

Grow up Donnie!

I’m a very proud Scot and am also a proud, card carrying “ecomentalist” (thanks Jeremy Clarkson for that title). I’m very prone to hugging trees. Yet in recent years, there has been one huge stain on my environmental perspective. It has an American accent and a bright orange wig. It’s name is Donald Trump. For those of you who don’t know, Donald Trump bulldozed his way across North East Scotland and built a horrendous golf course that did real harm to a beautiful landscape.

He is now crying into his cornflakes that he has recently lost an appeal to prevent the building of an offshore wind farm in Aberdeen. Donnie loses – boohoo. I am personally thrilled by this. La Donnie needs to stop throwing his hissy fits and accept that this wind farm needs to happen. Fossil fuels are running out. Fast. We need to be working together to produce new forms of energy. Not crying and stamping our feet because the view from our golf course might be spoiled. Boo hoo Donnie. Get over yourself. The world does not revolve around you. You are not omnipotent my friend.

He is now arrogant enough to say that everyone wants him to appeal over the decision against him.  La Donnie thinks he is universally backed. Donnie, your mummy might have been born in Stornaway, but this does not make you king of Scotland. You do not know what is best for this country or its people. Stop acting like you do. This does not make you look like a businessman. It makes you look like a toddler with trapped wind and a bellyache who wears his favourite teddy on his head.

This Scot is here to say that you are neither wanted nor welcome. Go home!

At the end of my rope.

i woke up at 3.30am this morning with my back giving me what can only be described as flashes of white hot agony. That’s not including all the pain in my joints and other muscles. I think that this morning, the only thing that doesn’t hurt is my hair. It’s hell. I honestly believe, were I an animal, that a vet would take pity and say that I needed to be put to sleep. But as a human, I am left to grit my teeth and suffer.

When did all of this begin? Way, way back in my late teens. I had been experiencing a lot of joint and muscle pain. I went to see my GP and after copious amounts of blood tests, X-rays and scans, I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis. I was relieved that I had a answer for why I hurt so much. Then I asked my GP if he could give me something to help with all of the pain that I was going through. You know what he said to me? Due to your age, I won’t give you strong painkillers. Take paracetamol and ibuprofen for pain. Strike one asshole. I cannot take Ibuprofen because of my asthma. It triggers asthma attacks. So I’m left with paracetamol only. Not cool.

I just had to grit my teeth and get on with life. I trained as a nurse, and I cooed with the pain. I fought through some days of sheer hell, but I got through it. Then, for personal reasons, in 2005 I had to quit nursing. I took up a part time job in my local food shop. I worked there until February of 2009. That was when my body decided to really knock me on my ass.

I woke up one morning in February of 2009 and was unable to move. It was so painful to even try I was sobbing. I called work to say I was going to be ill, then called my doctor. I begged for an emergency appointment. My friend drove me in. I was still in my pyjamas. Getting dressed was just not n option – everything hurt so much. The doctor was very attentive. He referred me to a Rheumatologist and also to an orthopaedic consultant. I was prescribed Gabapentin, Tramadol and Co-Codamol. They didn’t do much to take the pain away, but at least they dulled it. I was given a three month sick note from work.

After lots of prodding and poking and tests and X-rays, I got my diagnoses. I have a spinal deformity called a lordosis and also I have osteoarthritis in my spine, hips and knees. As well as that I was diagnosed with osteoporosis and hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, Chostochondritis and Fibromyalgia. That day finished my working life, I was medically retired soon after.

So that has been my life ever since. Pain. Pain and more pain. My GP said I was on the maximum pain relief. Then  I read an article in which people with far less of a diagnosis than me were on morphine and all kinds of other stronger drugs. What the hell? I went back to my GP and demanded to be referred to the hospital pain clinic for assessment. I am now on a waiting list to be seen.

I don’t care what they give me. I just want my pain to stop.

crazy idea.

You ever have one? One of those crazy ideas that spins into your mind like a seed spinning top that simply will not quit? You try to persuade yourself that it is stupid and that nobody else will like it or give a crap, but still you have that gnawing hope that you could make it work.

Well I have that feeling now. I’ve got an idea. It is something that I wonder if I amI am really good at. I wonder if I have the courage to make it work. But my worry is should I do it? Should I throw caution to the wind, say fuck it and just take the chance? Or do I listen to the whispering doubt inside my head that tells me I don’t have the talent.

Damnit, I really do hate being this way. This could be somthing really good if only my head would let it. Am I really being stupid?