I'll summarise the conversations I've had this week though.

Well, I got fat because I ate a fucktonne of food expecting to be wired shut for six weeks on Tuesday. So yeah, I have put on about 3000 stone, LEAVE ME ALONE. My jaw isn't broken because they chose to break my heart/general being instead.

The weekend before the op I was generally depressed and scared and lonely. I didn't sleep at all. I didn't cry (only because I'm too empty for that now, not because of a surplus of braveness). I watched some football and tried out my new chair which I'll be recovering/sleeping in. I had to stay indoors as there was a risk of catching a cold and I was already a bit sniffly. Heaven forbid I'd have gotten sick and I dunno, HAD MY OPERATION CANCELLED. I drank a lot of Berocca and it was definitely the most boring weekend of my life. 

Yeah so on Monday I went into hospital as planned to have my wafers fitted. These are splints you wear between your broken face as it heals. Having them fitted was very painful, because they are designed for your new jaw and thus awkward to get in. My jaw nearly snapped right there in her hand. I nearly punched her. (Reflex, not rage - promise Mommy!). I sulked. The 2 minute appointment was dragging on and on and it became clear something was 'amiss' as more and more men arrived to stick things in my mouth. (Ahem).

There was concern about my face bow.

So I had it measured again.

OUCH OUCH OUCH.

Then the lab technicians ran away with their big box called Dinsey and all my lovely replica jaws. I was told I had to come back to the hospital first thing in the morning and that I'd be last on the surgery list, giving them time to work on my models and get everything just right before the gory bone cutting began.

Then I got a phone call, whilst still in the hospital, explaining my surgery had been cancelled.

Yeah. I was told that because there had been a mistake with my measurements on the 20th of December, they needed more time to model the surgery in the lab before they could hack up my face. The best part was that they realised their mistake last week but didn't call me in to be re-assessed, even though that would have meant there'd have been enough lab time for the surgery to go ahead. Cool, huh?

I know. I am always proved right eventually.

Yes, and they promised to re-book me within the month.

I HAVE NO IDEA. I was promised within a month but admissions say it's impossible before mid March. I am going back into hospital on Monday and hope to find out some more info then.

It means I have lost all my January/Feb contracts for nothing. It also means that I can't plan any new work at all as I have no idea when my surgery will in fact take place. If my surgery is in March I will have lost 5 months of work in total. I don't even know if I can cover London Fashion Week. I can't accept a single working engagement and all of the business I have already turned down for January/February can't be resurrected. I can't get any government support as I'm self-employed and under 25. I couldn't get insurance that would have protected me against something like this (I tried) as this was a pre-existing condition. Essentially I am currently regretting starting WIWT at all this side of surgery, even though what I've achieved is pretty cool...despite spending every day feeling like I've been smacked about with a baseball bat. I am gutted. And poor. Very poor. (Woo!)

They all booked time off work for no reason, they're stressed out, they're very sad. Etc etc.

A lot more than the usual 'a lot', this is due to Monday's appointment and general pulling about. I spent Tuesday and Wednesday in bed and did a lot of vomiting. 

Yes please!