“But you’re ‘just a receptionist’ what do you know?”

16 gems from the life of a Receptionist…

  1. I eye-roll 3,496 times a day and Facepalm 1,569 times also. facepalm
  2. I make frequent use of the ‘hold’ button.
  3. I get excited over new stationery.                   LOL
  4. When you’re shouting down the phone at me, it doesn’t make me want to help you more.
  5. I’m an all-day grazer. My desk is covered in snacks. cream-cake.jpg
  6. I’m more embarrassed by your ‘embarrassing story’ than you are. smiley
  7. We’re not all 1 person. As much as I’d love to I can’t physically, emotionally, willingly- answer the phone, sit at the front desk, be the Dr’s secretary, filing and do admin.
  8. There are times when I release a string of profanity as soon as you hang up.
  9. I don’t have a magic wand, and no one is more gutted about that than I am. I can’t magic appointments out of thin air.    IMG_0209
  10. It’s exhausting being smiley and upbeat all day long. Most days I manage to leave my shit at the door. Most days…
  11. This is my job, my career. I am a professional receptionist. This isn’t a stop-gap while I’m home at uni.
  12. Saying the words: “Just-a-receptionist” is a sure-fire way of pissing me off and it will earn you either an eye-roll or “WTF” face.
  13. A sense of humour is VITAL in this job. bow
  14. It will be very tense prior to the annual CQC visit. IMG_0291
  15. Nothing makes me feel more like I’m exactly in the right place more than hearing a “Thank-you for you help” or seeing someone’s bad day ease just by providing a caring, compassionate response to a person’s bad time. IMG_0150
  16. TGIF                                              img_0218.jpg

LOL S1 Ep2

I apologise in advance if this is too honest/too gross/too cringey for your delicate eyes.

This is the 2nd episode in my LOL stories – I hope it lightens your day.

Read, laugh and try not to judge me too much.

I am 3 days post-op. I am on my period and grumpy. I have the stomach of a heavily pregnant lady; only it’s not a baby, it’s just swelling. I’m feeling grotty and I’m in pain.


On this morning, my husband is up for work. It’s 6am and he’s passed me my hot water bottle and pulled the covers back over me. He’s downstairs somewhere, sleepy and drinking tea.

And suddenly, I’m awake. I’m running to the bathroom with awful stomach cramps. I sit on the toilet and grimace as I get rid of everything (including my spleen and a lung). I’m hurting and a little bit overwhelmed. I’m sitting with my head in my hands, feeling awful and cursed.

As if I need this right now?!

And that’s how I’m sat as I hear my husband climb the stairs and walk down the hallway. He knocks and with concern in his voice, he says: “Are you okay, bab-?”

Only I cut him off and scream at the closed door “DON’T COME IN HERE!!! DON’T COME IN!”

Jesus, I can’t let him in here. After all the other shit he’s had to deal with and all the talk about periods and babies he’s had to listen to and all my crazy mood swings he’s had to accept whilst trying this contraceptive or that hormone injection. I just couldn’t let him in.

Like the loving husband that he is, he opened the door just a crack; just wide enough to see me sat on the loo with my jama’s around my ankles, head in my hands, taking deep breaths as I fought to hold back sobs. He quietly closed the door and waited until I was done before going to work- tucking me back into bad and kissing my forehead before he left.

Don’t worry- this “aww!” moment was not lost on me. No matter how much pain I’m in or how much crap (in this case, literally) I have to deal with, I am still so grateful to have him. I appreciate him and how much he looks after me when I’m poorly.



So I had a horrendous toilet experience, luckily I wasn’t having to travel to the hospital and had the luxury of locking myself away in my own bathroom.

And before you ask- no this is not the end of the story. If you can believe it- it gets worse.

After hiding in bed for a few more hours, I pull myself together and head for a shower. Everything pretty normal so far. Only- I felt something, not quite right, down there. I thought: Well I’ve got Endo on my bowel, it’s probably pretty pissed off after being traumatised this morning. And shrugged it off.

I felt lots better after a shower. I got dressed (at this point, by ‘dressed’ I mean put on clean loungewear/jammies) and decided to make a brew. And still I knew something wasn’t right. Something was new, different. Whilst the kettle boiled I headed to the bathroom to investigate.

I had what seemed like a growth/lump/parasite on my bum. Well this is new.

There was a small voice in the back of mind telling me I knew exactly what it was. I slapped it around the face to shut it up. Can I get a break- PLEASE?!  No, I can’t have haemorrhoids; not on top of everything else I have to deal with right now. My body hates me.

 But how could I be sure? My curiosity got the better of me.

Continue reading →

Thank you Anna Smith

For women with Endometriosis, living life as normally as possible is a struggle. With chronic pain so severe and heavy irregular periods, it is easy for life to get us down.

After I’ve had a sucky time and I am over the initial trauma of an appointment, diagnosis, surgery- I try to find something about it to laugh at. I know I shouldn’t, illness is serious but I regularly use this as a coping mechanism and make light of my illness.

Humour can be as uplifting as opioids if you use it properly.

And so, this is the first of many LOL moments, coming up on my blog. Be assured- I will spare no details, no matter how embarrassing, and hope to hell you don’t judge me. Enjoy


Last week, on a grey morning, I woke up with a sad feeling. I was grumpy and just couldn’t brush it off. There’s no point in dressing this up as something else. I was mardy and tired and feeling sorry for myself. So I tried my cure-all, feel better Go-To’s:

  • I had a cup of tea and dunker biscuits in bed- No
  • I watched the original Ghostbusters film (Bill Murray is a sure way to make me smile)- Nope
  • I had a scolding hot bath with a Lush bath bomb, I soaked until I was pruney & short of breath from the steam- Nothing

With a determination I’d not seen in weeks, I got out of the bath and dressed quickly. Trying to put socks on and hold my phone to my ear is not easy and, being clumsy like I am, I stumbled more than once as I waited for my mum to answer her phone.

“Mum, it’s me – Yeah, no, I’m fine – I need you to come get me – Soon, like 10 minutes? – We’re going to town, to King’s – I need to buy a bag.”

As you can see, this needed action. This mood had to do one. And in order for that to happen, I needed a handbag. Needless to say, my mum (being the treasure that she is) dropped everything.

Me and mum went to a local boutique-with-café in my town and I immediately headed for the bag section. Usually, it is chocka with homeware and ornaments- things that I’d break just looking at them. But at this time, the owners were making way for their Christmas stock. That in itself is exciting! It’s like a frigging grotto in their every Christmas, soon be time to put my tree up! This lightened my mood considerably and I’d not set my sights on a single bag yet.

I found one. She’s an Anna Smith tote. I carried her around the shop like a small baby while I browsed. I held her in my lap as I waited for coffee. I paid £42 for her and that is money-well-spent as far as I’m concerned!
There is nothing more satisfying for a bag-lover, than transferring your things out of your old bag and into a new one. Filling all the pockets with my stuff, forgetting that in a month everything will be dumped in and I’ll have to wade through a pile of old receipts and wrappers and leaflets.

Girls, I needed this bag. Not only to make me feel better, but since I now have to take a ton of stuff with me everywhere I go- I need a bigger, hardier bag. Obviously I have all the usual suspects: purse, keys, glasses, pen, notebook, diary, gum, perfume/deodorant. But now that I have the reproductive system with a mind of its own I also have to carry: about 3000 pads, a heat pad, spare knickers, and a small pouch of pain meds (which I’m sure would get me arrested if I was searched by police!)

I can fit all of my baggage into this tote bag. Just call me Mary Poppins.

It can be hard being a girl. But it’s a nightmare being a girl with Endometriosis.

So we deserve handbags. Thank you Anna Smith.


What do I want to be when I grow up? I’ve no idea…

Lately I have been feeling a little restless. My 20s haven’t started out so good and U’m wondering when it will all fall into place. During this little crisis, I decided it might be time for a drastic career change. I thought the best course of action would be to take one of those silly aptitude tests. I was so surprised to see what it came up with!

This is the result of me taking an online careers test:

Extrovert, Intuitive, Feeler, Judger

ENFJ’s are outstanding group leaders. They try hard to help others be the best that they can be. 5% of the total population.

The ENFJ’s optimistic outlook toward social relationships is a burden to them at times. When external conflicts affect a group, the ENFJ is likely to assume responsibility. Their ability to empathize then turns into a liability. ENFJ’s, when over-identifying with the pain of others, will loose sight of their own concerns and interests. Their idealism can also be the cause of some distress when their assumptions are unable to weather the winds of reality. Fantasized relationships rarely translate into reality and even the best charismatic leader encounters unexpected resistance.

Like all NFs, ENFJ’s will disassociate themselves from stressful situations in an effort to protect their sense of well-being and togetherness. The ENFJ, however, will repress the unpleasant side of life only to have to face it later in an intensified form when it explodes from its hiding place. It can manifest itself as fits of anger, sudden outbursts, or emotional explosions. Often the ENFJ’s body will reflect pent-up stress by manifesting various physical symptoms that will erupt unexpectedly.

And what careers did it come up with?

  • Entertainer 
  • Recruiter
  • Artist
  • Newscaster
  • Writer/Journalist
  • Recreation Director
  • Librarian 
  • Politician
  • Psychologist 
  • Housing director
  • Career counselor 
  • Sales trainer
  • Travel agent
  • Program designer
  • Team trainer
  • Child welfare worker
  • Social worker
  • Alcohol/Drug Counselor 
  • Executive: Small business 
  • Occupational therapist 

For those of you that don’t know, I graduated with a degree in psychology and journalism. I work in Healthcare, closely with patients with Mental health issues. I write a blog. I am over-sensitive and empathetic. I like to assume responsibility and I’m happy to take the lead in situations.

So.. that’s a ‘No’ to the change in career #YOLO

A xo

Find the career test HERE.

“Just rip it off!”

There is nothing more horrifying for a young girl than going shopping with friends, sisters, boyfriends, whoever! And realising that not only are you a size bigger (or smaller!) than you once were. Standing in the changing rooms, breathing in, sucking everything in until passing out is an actual possibility. I have never been one for worrying what size I am, as long as I feel healthy, and to be honest it’s been a long time since I’ve felt normal nevermind healthy! So off we go- clothes shopping.

There were two traumas during this shopping trip; I have misplaced some boobs somewhere, dropping 2 cup sizes. I also got stuck in a dress!


I have repeated myself because I just want that statement to sink in for a moment… picture it.

Wandering around the shops, grabbing a dress or two, heading over to the changing rooms, I’m full of smiles. Loving the dress I’d found, I dragged my little sister into the changing room. The size 12 I picked up was so skin tight my sister had to push parts of me in just to pull it down!

Not worrying too much I attempted to get it off. “Eh?! So what if I have to get the next size up? I love this dress” 

I couldn’t get it off. I was literally stuck in this dress. I’m giggling and laughing, saying pull and push, this way and that way and it still wouldn’t budge. My sister is yelling at me without shouting (it’s kind of a yelling voice but in hush tones for those that have never done this!) telling me to try and bend over so she can pull it over my head, I’m thinking if I bend, the seam of this dress is going to go and my ass is gonna be out of the thing! I then got really hot all of a sudden as a feeling of extreme claustrophobia overcomes me, panicking “just rip it off, get it off me!”

Finally, using the “PIVOT!” method, I was out of the friggin’ thing.

I was hysterical. Hysterically laughing. We were laughing so much.

Standing in my underwear I then wait for my sister to bring me the next size up. A quick knock and she comes strolling in, with this leading statement: “The 12 was way too small, so I got a 16.” My jaw hit the floor, tongue rolled out, eyes wide. 16?! The size 16 wasn’t much better, giggling to each other and giving up, my sister and I decided to look at shoes. I’m always the same size in shoes!

To jump from a size 12 to a size 16 in 10 minutes is every woman’s nightmare. Or so I thought?

Recently, I have found it hard to laugh. I have found it hard to be positive- especially about my body. Not so much body image but resentful that my body hates itself and gives me chronic pain. And so, this ‘stuck in a dress-gate’ was just what I needed! I needed to laugh. Not only were me and my sister laughing, but apparently the rest of the ladies in the other changing cubicles had a good chuckle about it as well.

The design of the dress, the fabric it’s made out of obviously doesn’t suit curvy women; and I’m sticking to that statement.

So traumatic it could have been, but at least I made myself and other ladies smile for 5 minutes.
I hope this made you smile, just a little.


Little 16

A xo