People outside the UK might not know this, but we had some pretty serious weather a few weeks ago. Red warnings and rhyming nicknames have been in abundance (‘beast from the east’ anyone?…) but the majority of the freezing my weather vanished almost as quickly as it arrived, taking London from sub-zero temperatures to our more expected temperate-climate chilliness. Snow days were over, home offices were closed and the water pipes started to burst in celebratory fervour. Continue reading “Water! Water! Part 1”
This is not a rhetorical question. Can somebody please help me to understand how to utilise talking therapies? Because in all truth and honesty they have never made sense or been of any use to me. Continue reading “I Have A Penchant For Rejecting Talking Therapies. How Do I Overcome This?”
Due to some unfortunate experiences over the years I would usually say an emphatic ‘no’ to any medical treatment that that upsets my body’s hormonal balance. But after my last trip to the emergency room, I realised that I had to reconsider my position.
This was not my first dance with the drug PROSTAP, but unlike so many of the other hormonal treatments I’d had in the past, it didn’t exacerbate my symptoms (everything else caused excessive bleeding) or create a slew of hideous side effects (the Mirena Coil issues are a blog post unto themselves). PROSTAP in effect creates a chemical menopause, switching my ovaries off (or turning them down to a point where their effects are negligible) and thus curbing most of the worst symptoms of Endometriosis.
I was still quite reluctant when the idea was originally floated, but it was made quite clear to me that it would be disastrous for my internal organs to continue being bathed in hot, trapped menstrual blood on a regular basis. So even though I was technically being offered a choice between wrecking my internal organs or disrupting my hormones, it was clear that only one option was actually viable. Figuring that perhaps enough time had passed since my last dalliance with this kind of medical intervention, I took the plunge. Continue reading “Animal Magnetism: Ear Acupuncture & A Chemical Menopause”
As I stepped through the double doors that led to the sports hall I knew I was either just about to do something incredibly awesome, or awesomely stupid. After two diagnoses, more hospital visits that I can remember, and a full twelve months worth of distance, I I had decided to return to Roller Derby.
Now, I’m not crazy; I am well acquainted with the sport and know full well that I’d be pushing my luck straight off a cliff if I recklessly attempted to become a player, again. No, this time I planned to step into the oval as a trainee referee. Continue reading “Wheels, Pain & The First Avenger”
The last time we made official plans for New Year’s Eve was in 2012. My significant other and I had been celebrating locally for a while, but as a non-drinker, I felt a tad awkward continually turning down offers of champagne from strangers. So that year I decided we would do something different- something that both of us could enjoy, even if it meant that the journey home would be a bit of a mission. I checked the menu, booked our tickets and started to work on the pattern for my new frock.
Then I took some poor medical advice…
Desperation is something that the chronically ill experience on a regular basis. It is often the driving force behind our endless internet searches, our impatience with cloth-eared medical professionals and our, apparently, ‘finicky’ eating. But it is also often what leads us to accept a seemingly pointless, or downright risky, treatment option; even though we know it probably will not provide that fiercely desired light at the end of the tunnel.
Continue reading “It May Not Seem Like It – But This Is Progress”
Much as I hate to admit it, I’ve been feeling a little s******d of late (yes, the word makes me very uncomfortable). Having a prolonged and confusing flare-up of my Endometriosis has led to me slipping into a strange and disconcerting existence where the Fibromyalgia doesn’t have to fight so hard to retain dominance. The additional issue that my GP appears to believe that Fibromyalgia doesn’t need to be treated at all has left me having to figure out my own regimen without access to any kind of safety net or physical support network. Continue reading “Let’s talk About Stress, Baby…”
When I first met The Bear, I was a party-girl; drinking, smoking and dancing into the wee hours. Spontaneous and unpredictable, perhaps even slightly unhinged – but not enough to fall into the cliche of a terrifying histrionic.
We were from different cultures but shared similar, mildly chaotic upbringings. Continue reading “The Martian Princess and The Bear: A Shared Journey Through Chronic Illness”
Fibromyalgia is a bit of a ‘catch all’ diagnosis. It’s often handed down when doctors don’t know (or do not have the incentive to discover) what’s causing the myriad symptoms that the patient is suffering with – and those symptoms are myriad; over 200 at the last count. Because of this complexity, finding the root cause or best treatment for each individual can be akin to searching for the proverbial needle in a haystack. Add to the mix the fact that Fibromyalgia loves company, and rarely travels without a companion illness, and it becomes clear that medicinal platitudes are rarely going to be helpful; it’s the person that has to be treated, not the illness. This is why some of the best allies are the ones who listen.