Two months ago, I was lying in a hospital bed, full of anaesthetic and morphine, feeling as low as I have in my life, being fed through a tube. I couldn’t imagine how life was going to be after my surgery. I weighed 8st 6lbs. I couldn’t sleep, had just had the worst nights sleep of my life (I didn’t sleep).

A week later I was on my way home. I was eating normal meals, taking care of myself, but still scared and worried.

Two months later I’m back at work. I’ve gained a stone in weight. I’m sleeping better, I can drive. I can sit down and stand up without groaning in pain. My scars are healing and my mood is (mostly) back to normal.

Yes, I’ve had to make some changes to my life, rethink my future a bit. I never thought I’d have such major surgery at 28, especially when I was feeling mostly healthy. But I guess that’s just life. Things happen, we find a way to get thought it, and come out the other side. Sounds cliche but it’s kinda true.

And then, every now and then, my body gives me a little kick in the gut and tells me to slow down. Ow.