It's only been two weeks since I had the second surgery of 2013, my Breast Augmentation although it feels like a lot longer! This past two weeks have seemed to last a lifetime, so many different emotions being thrown together. In terms of my recovery, it's going okay. I'm looking to go back to work in a couple of weeks and I am feeling better than I was. They do feel sore and I especially notice it after a busy day. I'm not able to lift anything too heavy yet and even things like pulling a pint behind the bar are hard! I'm okay though and I am extremely happy with the results. It feels strange having bigger breasts but in a nice way. No regrets at all!
We're starting to get ready for my grandmas funeral which is next week. I just need it done I guess. It still feels really surreal that she's not here anymore but we all have to come to terms with the fact she's not. I can still picture her, on the kitchen floor and although we now know that there was nothing we could've done it's still an image that's imprinted on my mind. It feels like something I watched rather than witnessed, like I wasn't really there. I guess it's the shock still or a way for my mind to make sense of it.
I'm still enjoying college and, as I predicted, English is proving to be one of my stronger subjects. We did a controlled assessment a couple of weeks ago. It was an essay in which we had to analyse two different stories talking about the way emotions are portrayed in them and how the two stories are linked. The mark goes towards my final grade and I did very well. I got 12/15 which is equivalent to a B! My lecturer said that it was just a whisker away from an A! I'm so proud of myself and it's given me confidence that I can do well in all three GCSE's I'm doing. He said also that it was the highest grade in the year for the controlled assessment, just to make my head bigger! Afterwards, in my class, a few of my classmates started comparing results. I never told anyone mine but the general score was around the 7/15 mark which shows you how well I did!
In terms of my longer goal, I still want to teach and I'm already looking ahead to next years studies and beyond. When I pass my GCSE's in June I'm looking at doing an Access Level 3 course in Humanities and Social Science. This is basically a substitute for A-Levels designed for mature learners. After that I should be able to get into University to train as a Primary School Teacher! I'm really starting to feel confident about my future now although I know how stressful it's going to be. I know it's not going to be easy but I'm as determined as ever to succeed!
I have thought about renaming this blog because I do feel that I am no longer in transition. Saying that, although I'm not transitioning anymore in terms of my gender, my career is going through a transition from hardened Head Chef with temper issues (I used to shout and swear A LOT) to nice and gentle Primary School Teacher! Quite a transition don't ya think!
Thursday, 7 November 2013
Friday, 1 November 2013
The Reminders
It's nearly been a week since I found my Grandma with my mum and I'm still attempting to get over the shock of it all. It still doesn't seem real. It is real though and we're all getting through it as a family. It's a shame that it's taken something like this but we are all closer now. I've seen a bit more of my cousin and her husband and daughter and I've also seen more of my younger sister. I really hope that we can remain in pretty close contact going forward, especially with my cousin.
One thing we've done recently is go through all of my grandmas old photos. There's her and my granddads wedding photo from the 1940's which is fascinating to see. There's also lots of photos of us all growing up, taken at various weddings. It did strike me that I don't like seeing old photos of me, as a little boy. My dad questioned that and I could see his point in a way. It is who I was and I'm not ashamed of it in anyway. I've never been ashamed of my childhood, it's a part of my life, my history. What it does do though, seeing myself as I once was, is bring back my dysphoria. All through my child hood I experienced feelings of wanting to be a girl, jealousy at my sisters because they were girls. Although, once I started to transition, now that I am a girl, those feelings dissipated they are still there because I never got to be a girl growing up. I missed out on a lot and when I get reminded of that I get depressed. I remember that I never got to be a little girl and so my dysphoria, my feelings of wanting to be a girl and those feelings of jealousy come rushing back.
One thing we've done recently is go through all of my grandmas old photos. There's her and my granddads wedding photo from the 1940's which is fascinating to see. There's also lots of photos of us all growing up, taken at various weddings. It did strike me that I don't like seeing old photos of me, as a little boy. My dad questioned that and I could see his point in a way. It is who I was and I'm not ashamed of it in anyway. I've never been ashamed of my childhood, it's a part of my life, my history. What it does do though, seeing myself as I once was, is bring back my dysphoria. All through my child hood I experienced feelings of wanting to be a girl, jealousy at my sisters because they were girls. Although, once I started to transition, now that I am a girl, those feelings dissipated they are still there because I never got to be a girl growing up. I missed out on a lot and when I get reminded of that I get depressed. I remember that I never got to be a little girl and so my dysphoria, my feelings of wanting to be a girl and those feelings of jealousy come rushing back.
Sunday, 27 October 2013
R.I.P. Grandma
It's funny how life can throw you a curveball. From the joy of getting B.A. on Thursday came the devastation and shock of a family bereavement yesterday. At 88 my Grandma was certainly no spring chicken but she was fitter than most thirty year olds I know. She still lived in her own bungalow, still got herself out and about when she wanted, still lived a completely full life. My mum went up to visit her yesterday and on the off chance I said I'd go with her. I needed to get out of the house and I really wanted to see my Grandma. When we got there the smoke alarm was going off and the house was filled with smoke where my Grandma had left something slow cooking on the stove. There wasn't any fire, just the remnants of her lunch smouldering away in the pan. My Grandma was laid on the kitchen floor where she's fallen. I called an ambulance whilst my mum checked for a pulse and it was soon apparent that she'd been gone for a couple of hours. We think (although we can't be sure until the post mortem) that she died as a result of a massive stroke. She looked peaceful and she hadn't moved once she'd hit the floor. There wasn't any sign of her bumping her head so we think that she was dead before she hit the floor. Considering how fit she was it is a shock and has hit the whole family really hard. We honestly thought she'd go on forever but I do believe that some people are like that. Despite the shock, if it was a sudden death like we think it was, it would've been the way she'd have wanted to go. She wouldn't have wanted to die in hospital and would've hated being in a nursing home. As it was she passed away in her own home and in her favourite room in that home, the kitchen. She was always baking and her pastry was the best I ever tasted. Her lemon curd tarts in particular will live long in the memory. She was also found by family, her daughter and one of her grand daughters. She wouldn't have wanted to have been found by strangers.
When I think about my Grandma I think about her bluntness and about her straightforward nature. She was never someone who cried in public, preferring instead to weep in solace. She loved her family and was one of my greatest supporters in terms of my transition. One particular story I can remember is when I was at primary school. We had to grown beans in a jar and I gave mine to my Grandma and Granddad to grow. Weeks later, when the project had been forgotten about it, my Grandma turned up at the Primary School, outside my classroom complete with this four foot bean plant she'd grown! Embarrassed was not the word! I can also remember the long walks she used to take us on through the countryside and the summer holiday trips to Gulliver's Kingdom. She was full of life, right up until the end and despite her small stature, she'll leave a huge whole in the lives of all who knew her, especially in the lives of her daughter and son-in-law, her five grandchildren and her eight great-grandchildren!
I'm going to finish this post with a poem that she liked and which will be read at her funeral.
When I think about my Grandma I think about her bluntness and about her straightforward nature. She was never someone who cried in public, preferring instead to weep in solace. She loved her family and was one of my greatest supporters in terms of my transition. One particular story I can remember is when I was at primary school. We had to grown beans in a jar and I gave mine to my Grandma and Granddad to grow. Weeks later, when the project had been forgotten about it, my Grandma turned up at the Primary School, outside my classroom complete with this four foot bean plant she'd grown! Embarrassed was not the word! I can also remember the long walks she used to take us on through the countryside and the summer holiday trips to Gulliver's Kingdom. She was full of life, right up until the end and despite her small stature, she'll leave a huge whole in the lives of all who knew her, especially in the lives of her daughter and son-in-law, her five grandchildren and her eight great-grandchildren!
I'm going to finish this post with a poem that she liked and which will be read at her funeral.
SHE IS GONE
You can shed a tear that she is gone
Or you can smile because she has lived
You can close your eyes and pray that she'll come back
Or you can open your eyes and see all that she has left
Your heart can be empty because you can't see her
Or you can be full of the love you shared
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday
Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday
You can remember her and only that she's gone
Or you can cherish her memory and let it live on
You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back
Or you can do what she'd want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on
Saturday, 26 October 2013
The Start Of Recovery, Take 2
So, my recovery from my second (and last) operation on 2013 has begun. I got back from hospital at around 3ish yesterday afternoon and I pretty much went straight to bed. I ended up sleeping until nearly 7:00pm and after some Macaroni Cheese I was back in bed! I didn't sleep well last night though, managing around four hours before I woke up at 4:30am. After that I couldn't sleep so I stayed awake and got through the first series of Downton Abbey.
I'm trying to compare this experience to my last one but I can't really remember what the pain levels were like last time. This time it's hard, really hard. Because the surgical area is my chest it controls my arms, shoulders and my upper chest muscles. Getting out of bed is a real struggle. I have to skooch along on my bum down to the bottom of the bed until my feet are hanging off the end. I then have to haul myself up using my chest of drawers. My right side is ok, I can move freely with little pain or discomfort. Most of my pain is located down my left side which leads me to suspect that I've pulled a stitch or two. I also think that the pain could be down to where my drain was located in that side. I'm having the painkillers sensibly and I'm slowly finding ways to minimise the discomfort. I'm sure that it'll only be for a few weeks and that's a comforting thought!
As for the size of them, they are noticeably bigger if not a little too big. I'm sure that this is in part down to the swelling and once that goes down they'll be perfect. I am really happy with them so far and I can't wait to go bra shopping seeing as I'm going to have to throw my old ones out!
 |
| My 'wound' underneath my left breast. The cotton wool flap near my armpit is covering where the drain was. |
As for the size of them, they are noticeably bigger if not a little too big. I'm sure that this is in part down to the swelling and once that goes down they'll be perfect. I am really happy with them so far and I can't wait to go bra shopping seeing as I'm going to have to throw my old ones out!
Friday, 25 October 2013
My B.A. Experience:- A Quick Rundown
Well I'm home after my Breast Augmentation! I'm going to post a more detailed story of my B.A. experience (just like I did with my G.R.S. experience earlier this year) so this is just a basic outline of the past couple of days.
I was admitted to the T.A.U. (Theatre Admissions Unit) at Sheffields Royal Hallamshire Hoapital on Thursday morning at 7:00am and I was quickly shown to my own room by a nurse. I settled down in the chair and (not exactly sure what to do next) read a book on my IPad. Apparently a nurse was meant to come in to help me get sorted with a hospital gown but the next person I met was the Anaesthetist. He was a very pleasant man and after a couple of the usual questions about height, allergies, etc he was back on his way. Just before he went he mentioned that I was third on the list and could expect to be going to Theatre at around 10ish! A little while after he left Mr Caddy's (my surgeon) assistant popped in to make sure I was ok and to run through my details with me. She seemed a very happy person and instantly put me at ease (which is kinda what you want from someone who's just hours away from slicing you open!). After she went Mr Caddy himself appeared and asked me if I'd had anymore thoughts about what size I'd like to go to. I said that a D would be nice and so he explained that during the surgery he'd inflate a bubble under my skin to see how far it stretched!
A little while after Mr Caddy goes, a nurse appears. She's blonde, in her mid twenties and also called Emma. She's extremely pleasant and starts to run through my details with me. She asks me the usual stuff like name, age, address, etc. When she nears the end of the form she asks me if I'm on my period or if not, how long since I was. I'm not exactly sure what to say at this point so I just say that I don't get periods. Cue one very confused look from the nurse before I explain that I'm transgendered. Although Emma the nurse doesn't know it, she's made my day! Before she leaves she gives me a gown and some paper nickers to wear and asks for a urine sample. I pop to the loo to sort out the urine sample before getting into the hospital clobber. Putting the paper nickers on it strikes me how dehumanising hospital can be. I'm a grown woman putting paper nickers on!
After that I just sit and wait and the time passes very slowly. 10:00am comes and goes and it's pushing 11:30am before a member of the anaesthetist team comes to get me. She quickly runs through my details before we walk to the knock out room. It's down a few very drafty corridors although I'm glad for the air. Being in that small room for four hours wasn't much fun.
When we get to the knockout room I'm told to get on a bed. It reminds me of one of those beds they use to administer lethal injection in America with the arm rests! I jump up on the bed and lie down as they start attaching heart and pulse monitors to me. As I'm lying there I suddenly realise where I am and I start to get flashbacks to March! I find it hard to laugh as I ask myself what the hell am I doing here!? The anaesthetist from earlier shows his face and starts to attach a cannula to the back of my left hand. He asks me what my poison is before suggesting Vodka. The female anaesthetist suggests Gin before I admit that I prefer Vodka. Then follows a conversation about what alcoholic beverage everyone prefers. It's a bizarre conversation to be having in this situation but it takes my mind off the anaesthetic rushing up my arm. It's a cold but comforting feeling and really strange as it heads up the length of my left arm. It starts to ache a bit before I begin to shut my eyes. I hear voices saying 'she's under!' as I feel a mask being put over my face and the bed begins to move through some double doors! Then, instantly, I feel the bed being shoved backwards and a voice saying 'Emma darlin', it's all done!' I start to open my eyes as I come round. Everything feels bizarre. I feel bodies around me as I'm pushed into a bay on the recovery ward. A nice nurse explains that she'll be looking after me while I'm in recovery. I'm in recovery for around an hour. She injects some painkillers through the cannula and keeps monitoring my blood pressure, temperature, ect. Then I'm wheeled back to my original room in the T.A.U.
I lay there for a while watching this black and white film on the telly. The remote doesn't work so I can't even change channels. In the end I ask one of the nurses (a girl called Lucy) to pass me my IPad so I can watch some Downton Abbey. She brings me a cup of coffee and a couple of slices of toast. Up until this point I couldn't praise the staff enough but once I've finished my toast they start talking about sending me home! When I cam for my pre-op I was told that I'd be staying in overnight so I planned for that. There's no way I can arrange a lift home that night. What makes their insistence even more bizarre is that I'm still attached to two drains (from either breast) which won't be removed until tomorrow! Over the next few hours they keep trying to get me to sort transport home but there is no one. Because I've had a general anaesthetic it'd have to be some one I knew too so a taxi is out of the question. In the end they admit defeat and I'm wheeled up to ward F2. The staff there instantly make me feel welcome and I'm helped into bed by a male nurse called Richard. There are 3 other beds on this ward all occupied by cancer sufferers. I feel guilty and not once do I tell them that my op is cosmetic! One other the other nurses fetches me a coffee and some biscuits before I settle down for the night. It's quite a restless night because they check the blood pressures at 12:00am and 4:00am. It's comfortable though and I appreciate the painkillers I get through the night.
As morning arrives I have breakfast before deciding I want a wash and freshen up. I'm helped to the bathroom by a young nurse called Jennifer. Once in the shower room she unclips the tight bra I've been put in. It's designed to keep everything in place as it all heals so it pushes my breast together creating quite a nice cleavage. Once the bra is off I can see my new breasts for the first time. They're definitely bigger and more pert and I have sensation too! At that point I come over dizzy and start to feel faint. I feel like I'm going to collapse so Jennifer helps me to a chair. I feel so ill and sweat starts pouring out of every pore. The wash is abandoned and I'm taken back to the ward in a wheel chair. I feel so helpless and so dependant on the nurses that I start to cry back on the ward. They monitor me for an hour and slowly my colour starts to come back. I'm so glad I stayed and it just proves that sending me home might not have been the best idea!
I have my drains out soon after and once they're out I suddenly start to feel better. I manage some lunch and then I manage to wash and get dressed myself. I instantly feel better and at around 1:30pm I'm discharged. I get a taxi home and the taxi driver decides to take the back roads to avoid the busy traffic. This means that we hit a lot of speed bumps and I feel each and every one! I then start to feel sick and I come close to throwing up. I end up spending most of the journey with my head over a plastic bag. Once I get home I head straight for bed. I feel weak and tired but glad to be home as I realise that my recovery has only just begun!
I was admitted to the T.A.U. (Theatre Admissions Unit) at Sheffields Royal Hallamshire Hoapital on Thursday morning at 7:00am and I was quickly shown to my own room by a nurse. I settled down in the chair and (not exactly sure what to do next) read a book on my IPad. Apparently a nurse was meant to come in to help me get sorted with a hospital gown but the next person I met was the Anaesthetist. He was a very pleasant man and after a couple of the usual questions about height, allergies, etc he was back on his way. Just before he went he mentioned that I was third on the list and could expect to be going to Theatre at around 10ish! A little while after he left Mr Caddy's (my surgeon) assistant popped in to make sure I was ok and to run through my details with me. She seemed a very happy person and instantly put me at ease (which is kinda what you want from someone who's just hours away from slicing you open!). After she went Mr Caddy himself appeared and asked me if I'd had anymore thoughts about what size I'd like to go to. I said that a D would be nice and so he explained that during the surgery he'd inflate a bubble under my skin to see how far it stretched!
A little while after Mr Caddy goes, a nurse appears. She's blonde, in her mid twenties and also called Emma. She's extremely pleasant and starts to run through my details with me. She asks me the usual stuff like name, age, address, etc. When she nears the end of the form she asks me if I'm on my period or if not, how long since I was. I'm not exactly sure what to say at this point so I just say that I don't get periods. Cue one very confused look from the nurse before I explain that I'm transgendered. Although Emma the nurse doesn't know it, she's made my day! Before she leaves she gives me a gown and some paper nickers to wear and asks for a urine sample. I pop to the loo to sort out the urine sample before getting into the hospital clobber. Putting the paper nickers on it strikes me how dehumanising hospital can be. I'm a grown woman putting paper nickers on!
After that I just sit and wait and the time passes very slowly. 10:00am comes and goes and it's pushing 11:30am before a member of the anaesthetist team comes to get me. She quickly runs through my details before we walk to the knock out room. It's down a few very drafty corridors although I'm glad for the air. Being in that small room for four hours wasn't much fun.
When we get to the knockout room I'm told to get on a bed. It reminds me of one of those beds they use to administer lethal injection in America with the arm rests! I jump up on the bed and lie down as they start attaching heart and pulse monitors to me. As I'm lying there I suddenly realise where I am and I start to get flashbacks to March! I find it hard to laugh as I ask myself what the hell am I doing here!? The anaesthetist from earlier shows his face and starts to attach a cannula to the back of my left hand. He asks me what my poison is before suggesting Vodka. The female anaesthetist suggests Gin before I admit that I prefer Vodka. Then follows a conversation about what alcoholic beverage everyone prefers. It's a bizarre conversation to be having in this situation but it takes my mind off the anaesthetic rushing up my arm. It's a cold but comforting feeling and really strange as it heads up the length of my left arm. It starts to ache a bit before I begin to shut my eyes. I hear voices saying 'she's under!' as I feel a mask being put over my face and the bed begins to move through some double doors! Then, instantly, I feel the bed being shoved backwards and a voice saying 'Emma darlin', it's all done!' I start to open my eyes as I come round. Everything feels bizarre. I feel bodies around me as I'm pushed into a bay on the recovery ward. A nice nurse explains that she'll be looking after me while I'm in recovery. I'm in recovery for around an hour. She injects some painkillers through the cannula and keeps monitoring my blood pressure, temperature, ect. Then I'm wheeled back to my original room in the T.A.U.
I lay there for a while watching this black and white film on the telly. The remote doesn't work so I can't even change channels. In the end I ask one of the nurses (a girl called Lucy) to pass me my IPad so I can watch some Downton Abbey. She brings me a cup of coffee and a couple of slices of toast. Up until this point I couldn't praise the staff enough but once I've finished my toast they start talking about sending me home! When I cam for my pre-op I was told that I'd be staying in overnight so I planned for that. There's no way I can arrange a lift home that night. What makes their insistence even more bizarre is that I'm still attached to two drains (from either breast) which won't be removed until tomorrow! Over the next few hours they keep trying to get me to sort transport home but there is no one. Because I've had a general anaesthetic it'd have to be some one I knew too so a taxi is out of the question. In the end they admit defeat and I'm wheeled up to ward F2. The staff there instantly make me feel welcome and I'm helped into bed by a male nurse called Richard. There are 3 other beds on this ward all occupied by cancer sufferers. I feel guilty and not once do I tell them that my op is cosmetic! One other the other nurses fetches me a coffee and some biscuits before I settle down for the night. It's quite a restless night because they check the blood pressures at 12:00am and 4:00am. It's comfortable though and I appreciate the painkillers I get through the night.
As morning arrives I have breakfast before deciding I want a wash and freshen up. I'm helped to the bathroom by a young nurse called Jennifer. Once in the shower room she unclips the tight bra I've been put in. It's designed to keep everything in place as it all heals so it pushes my breast together creating quite a nice cleavage. Once the bra is off I can see my new breasts for the first time. They're definitely bigger and more pert and I have sensation too! At that point I come over dizzy and start to feel faint. I feel like I'm going to collapse so Jennifer helps me to a chair. I feel so ill and sweat starts pouring out of every pore. The wash is abandoned and I'm taken back to the ward in a wheel chair. I feel so helpless and so dependant on the nurses that I start to cry back on the ward. They monitor me for an hour and slowly my colour starts to come back. I'm so glad I stayed and it just proves that sending me home might not have been the best idea!
I have my drains out soon after and once they're out I suddenly start to feel better. I manage some lunch and then I manage to wash and get dressed myself. I instantly feel better and at around 1:30pm I'm discharged. I get a taxi home and the taxi driver decides to take the back roads to avoid the busy traffic. This means that we hit a lot of speed bumps and I feel each and every one! I then start to feel sick and I come close to throwing up. I end up spending most of the journey with my head over a plastic bag. Once I get home I head straight for bed. I feel weak and tired but glad to be home as I realise that my recovery has only just begun!
Wednesday, 23 October 2013
The Eve of Surgery.....Again!
7 months ago I was just a couple of days away from the biggest operation of my life. I was nervous, scared, all the things you might expect. Now, I'm on the eve of another operation and one which will have just as much significance as the one 7 months ago. Tomorrow morning, at 7:00am I'm due at the Theatre Admissions Unit at Sheffields Royal Hallamshire Hospital where I will undergo Breast Augmentation! It's an operation I never thought I'd have because I never imagined it'd be accessable to me. I certainly couldn't afford it myself so the only route for me was always the NHS and I never imagined I'd get it that way! Alas, I was wrong and it's happening, I'm getting a 'boob job' and I couldn't be happier!
I'm trying to compare how it feels now to how I felt the night before my last operation in March. Then I was nervous because I didn't know what to expect, it was a new experience for me. I was also scared because it was my first operation since I was a very small child. I didn't know what to expect from being put to sleep or how the process worked. This time I know how it feels to be put to sleep and I'm not scared really because of that. I'm more annoyed than anything. It's the whole pre-op thing I'll have to go through. The needles, the whole nil by mouth thing, the palaver of having surgery! Everything else I'm fine with! The anesthetic doesn't bother me, the recovery doesn't bother me either but the whole hospital experience surrounding the surgery does!
I'll be fine and I'm looking forward to composing another 'surgery diary' although it'll be fairly short because I'm only in hospital overnight. I'll keep you all informed to how it goes and I'll see you on the other side!
I'm trying to compare how it feels now to how I felt the night before my last operation in March. Then I was nervous because I didn't know what to expect, it was a new experience for me. I was also scared because it was my first operation since I was a very small child. I didn't know what to expect from being put to sleep or how the process worked. This time I know how it feels to be put to sleep and I'm not scared really because of that. I'm more annoyed than anything. It's the whole pre-op thing I'll have to go through. The needles, the whole nil by mouth thing, the palaver of having surgery! Everything else I'm fine with! The anesthetic doesn't bother me, the recovery doesn't bother me either but the whole hospital experience surrounding the surgery does!
I'll be fine and I'm looking forward to composing another 'surgery diary' although it'll be fairly short because I'm only in hospital overnight. I'll keep you all informed to how it goes and I'll see you on the other side!
Tuesday, 8 October 2013
Like A Prized Fighter Heading Back Into The Ring For One Last Shot At The Bigtime! (cue Rocky music)
At school I hated maths. It was just beyond me, the numbers and the fractions, I could never get my head around it. I did manage to get a D at GCSE level 15 years which was one of my higher grades overall. I'm not entirely sure how though.
Recently I've begun retaking my GCSE's at college. For my future career plans I need Maths, English and Science at GCSE level. I'm actually really enjoying my Maths, infact it's my favourite subject! The lecturer is really nice though and I've got a nice group of friends there. She just makes it sound so easy though. I've pretty much master long division with decimal points, something I wouldn't have had a clue about 2 weeks ago! Considering I was a chef for 14 years, my obvious lack of basic maths skills is quite scary!
Talking about being a Chef I'm going to be heading back into a kitchen in the very near future. It's something that I've thought about and although I'm still not wanting to be a chef long term, short term it might be my best option. I've contacted a few agencies with a view to doing some temp relief work. It's something I considered way back in April after my GRS. I think I just needed a clean break though and it has done me good. I feel refreshed and I'm kinda excited about the idea of cooking again. The beauty of relief work is that I'll be moving around, not always stuck in the same kitchen. I should also be able to work it around my college commitments! A driving force behind my decision though is money. I'm earning minimum wage doing nights in a nursing home and although it's a rewarding job in many aspects, it's not a job I enjoy. Nights are exhausting and I'm struggling on the minimum wage. As an agency chef I could command between £10-£15/hour which kinda spits on the £6.39/hour I'm presently earning!
Recently I've begun retaking my GCSE's at college. For my future career plans I need Maths, English and Science at GCSE level. I'm actually really enjoying my Maths, infact it's my favourite subject! The lecturer is really nice though and I've got a nice group of friends there. She just makes it sound so easy though. I've pretty much master long division with decimal points, something I wouldn't have had a clue about 2 weeks ago! Considering I was a chef for 14 years, my obvious lack of basic maths skills is quite scary!
Talking about being a Chef I'm going to be heading back into a kitchen in the very near future. It's something that I've thought about and although I'm still not wanting to be a chef long term, short term it might be my best option. I've contacted a few agencies with a view to doing some temp relief work. It's something I considered way back in April after my GRS. I think I just needed a clean break though and it has done me good. I feel refreshed and I'm kinda excited about the idea of cooking again. The beauty of relief work is that I'll be moving around, not always stuck in the same kitchen. I should also be able to work it around my college commitments! A driving force behind my decision though is money. I'm earning minimum wage doing nights in a nursing home and although it's a rewarding job in many aspects, it's not a job I enjoy. Nights are exhausting and I'm struggling on the minimum wage. As an agency chef I could command between £10-£15/hour which kinda spits on the £6.39/hour I'm presently earning!
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