Drained

Well the clock has run down and I still have no clue what to write this blog post about. Last week I was full of energy but this week I feel like the batteries have been removed and I have been left discarded in the middle of the playroom. I have had two very restless nights on the bounce, a physio session yesterday and I am drained. It isn’t very often I feel this fatigued but I am even struggling to ignore the siren call of my bed presently.

I am wondering if it is a combination of being back on antibiotics again, courtesy of a HS flare up. A mild virus, I have a bit of a cough / sore throat but it really isn’t anything major, more of a mildly irritating tickle but feels like it did in the bad old days when it would go into Bronchitis. Of course being two years smoke free ( I gave up smoking on 6th August 2017 and haven’t touched them since) I had hoped I might avoid a chest infection, especially as I am now taking zinc daily. With the change of the season, the air is getting fresher so my joints have thrown a hissy fit. Every day this week I have spent sat on my heated throw attempting to combat my joint pain with heat rather pain medication. My fingers are really bloody painful (including my thumbs), costochondritis has flared up, my right hip is painful, piriformis syndrome is rearing its ugly head and I keep getting a spasm in the right-hand-side of my back. I feel like I should really just dip myself in a vat of Ultrasound gel and have done with it. Every night I am spending around an hour giving myself an ultrasound treatment on various parts of my body. That in itself is draining but lowering the pain levels. This probably sounds like a huge moan. It isn’t I am just stating the facts. I put on a good show but I am exhausted by it all.

It is deeply frustrating when my only desire is to be creative and I can’t motivate myself to do it or the pain won’t let me sit at my machines for longer than a few moments. I did manage to get a couple of bits done last week. For the first time I made patches out of my embroidery work and attached them to make up bags. I found the pattern on line but adapted it due to increasing the size by 10% and adding zip tabs to give it a better finish. 

I made these two for friends who are both going through an awful time. It is also part of me paying forward after receiving a massive parcel of fabric from a lovely lady called Beverley on Instagram. She has been supportive of my sewing and embroidery from day one – she sells stuff online and her work is amazing. She always is full of praise for my work, which makes me blush as I am so hyper critical. Both bags were made from the fabric she sent me, as will a couple more, that will be Christmas and birthday presents. 

I am itching to get started on working on these items but everything feels like lead. Maybe later on I will start to feel a bit better and I will be able to do some embroidery. I make the patches first, deciding on a design for each person, before then deciding on the fabric within my expanding stash that goes with it best. For the Lurcher bag I chose the blue leaf fabric because it went so nicely with the scarf on the dog. With the fox bag I chose the white and green as I felt it looked like sunlight through leaves and you were peering through the undergrowth and came across the fox. Sounds a bit whimsical but that is exactly how I work and I make no apologies for that. That’s why I get so fed up when I feel so drained that I just can’t work on a project. I know there is plenty of time but there are just so many things I want to do.

When I can’t sew or embroider I spend a lot of my time looking at projects for the future. My whole life revolves around sewing / quilting / embroidery and I love it. I have never felt so creatively fulfilled.  Which is why it is so frustrating when I can’t actively do stuff. I am lucky that I can do it, so I really don’t want this to sound like I am moaning. Although thinking about it I am fully entitled to. I can’t see many of my “well” friends coping with the amount of shit I have had thrown at me over the last 12 years. I have had several of them tell me they couldn’t live like I do and that they would rather top themselves. I think, they believe that is a compliment but all I hear is that they believe the quality of life I have is shit and nothing could be further from the truth. As others have said long before me, “life is what you make it”. You carve out tiny pieces that fulfil you whenever and wherever you can.

I have noticed after the last two Physiotherapy sessions that it is taking me longer to recoup the energy expended by attending. So that on top of everything else is probably what has caused me to be knocked on my arse. I know this state if fatigue is more than likely temporary and I just have to ride it out. I am currently just drained.

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Miserable ….you fill in the blanks

On Tuesday 16th July I went to my doctors appointment. As I can’t get to these things alone due to my mobility issues and no longer having a driving licence, Jay and Dembe ( who is training to be my assistance dog) came with me. I had the doctors appointment as I have a lump at the front of my neck near my adams apple. It can’t be seen by the naked eye but can be felt. When I move my neck and head in certain positions I can feel the lump pressing on my esophagus so it was important that this was checked out. 

We managed to rock up about three minutes late due to an unexpected road closure. We had hoped to prk up outside but instead had to use the carpak across the road. This all added extra minutes that we didn’t have as Jay had to assemble my mobility scooter, get a parking ticket and get Dembe’s lead on. We had put Dembe’s high viz yellow coat on before we left the house. It says on the side of it “Assistance Dog in Training” and when he is “working” we put his coat on him so that members of the public are aware of what he is doing.

We managed to get into the doctors a little stressed due to being late. The main waiting room was practically empty it was as I was getting checked in that I was told my doctors room was at the end of the corridor. This was a major ballache as this waiting room is literally the width of a small houses landing or hallway. You can’t swing a cat in there. When we got there it was jammed and there were only two seats left. Dembe was a little perturbed that so many people were so close to him. He is used to be given space. It’s not that he won’t behave, it is just this was our first visit to the surgery with him and we were playing sardines. The doctors surgery was also unbearingly hot. If I am complaining of the heat it is boiling to a normal person.

Poor Dembe was panting away, he wasn’t unsettled but he was fidgeting a bit to get comfortable. We had a massive amount of treats and just practiced calm giving to get him to settle which he did. Considering he is just 8 months old today and this was his first visit he did well. Especially with it being so busy. There was no barking or crying despite the loud noises coming from the floor above. He really does know that when his coat goes on his behaviour has to change and it is wonderful to see. Many people in the waiting room were complimenting him on being so good for an obviously young dog. So what happened when we went into the doctors consultation room has really angered me.

The doctor made it clear from her facial expression she wasn’t happy that I had both my husband and my assistance dog with me. Jay sat across the other side of the room and kept Dembe occupied. Doing various exercises silently so he was totally focused on Jay. He was sat right in front of Jay, well out of the way of the doctor. The only noise he was making was panting. The doctor needed to examine me on the couch as I made my way across she piped up “Your dog is very hyperactive”. Had I not been in a doctors surgery I would have probably given her a gob-full. Instead I pointed out that he was just 8 months old, he was in training and that panting was not the sign of a hyperactive dog but a hot dog. Jay decided to take Dembe out of the room and walk him around outside the building, he was really angry with the doctor and didn’t want to end up saying something that could impact my treatment. I was so angry that this doctor that obviously knows fuck all about dogs was making snide comments about him. A dog that had done absolutely nothing wrong. I didn’t bother to speak much at all after that because I knew if I started I may have ended up having to look for a new doctors surgery. 

It seems that kids can wreck the joint at the doctors surgery, run around screaming, grab at people etc – all stuff I have witnessed. But a dog that is simply panting is hyperactive. Honestly the stupid cow should have seen him the first night of puppy training 7 weeks ago when he was play bowing, barking and generally being a dick – that is hyperactive. I would say if Dembe had been naughty or hadn’t behaved as he should. I am not an idiot. The whole reason we are doing all these training courses is to ensure he conducts himself well when working / out in public. So for an uneducated, miserable cow of a doctor to say he was misbehaving by snidely saying that he was hyperactive is bang out of fucking order. It’s been 10 hours since the appointment and I am still fucking seething about it.

 I have seen some crap doctors in my time but she took the biscuit and it wasn’t just the issue with Dembe. I also told her about my dry eyes and the fact they are drying out at night causing abrasions on my cornea. She said she would prescribe me something for my eyes. I told her I needed something at night as that was when the damage is occurring. My eyes are very dry during the day as the Hyloforte drops are only providing about 20-30 minutes of relief at a time. But I need something at night to stop my eyeballs sticking to my eyelids. She has totally ignored that and prescribed me drops for day time use. I give up, what part of the conversation didn’t she get. She didn’t even think it might be important for me to see an ophthalmologist to get my eyes checked. To see of we could get to the bottom of why my eyes are dry and what could be done about it. She has taken it into her head that I am allergic to liquid paraffin when I have used it in another eye ointment perfectly fine. I was so pissed off by this point other than repeatedly bang my head against the desk I had to just smile and breathe rather than tell her what a giant fucking cockwomble she was. I do try not to lay into doctors, its a thankless job, so many targets and patients to see. But of you aren’t going to fucking listen and then make pronouncements on my dogs behaviour despite clearly being no expert then I am afraid you deserve everything this post has coming for you.

As I left the doctors I had to book in blood tests ( check my thyroid) and the doctor is doing a referral for an ultrasound to check out this lump which she believes is a lymph node. I can tell you something for sure I will never be making another appointment with her again. The receptionist was really lovely and said what a lovely dog Dembe was and how well behaved he was. She wouldn’t have known what had gone on in the room as I was literally at the desk seconds after the appointment was over. As I looked out of the surgerys door I could see an old chap fussing Dembe and Dembe sitting there loving it. No barking, no crying just a well behaved, panting dog. That made me even more angry.

Jay said the old guy was talking to him for a while and made a massive fuss of Dembe. Dembe was a little scared at first but Jay passed the guy one of Dembe’s treats and he was won over immediately. He said it was so sweet. Jay said the guy was obviously quite lonely but because of the love he was showering Dembe with Jay just let him and was chatting away with him. Jay said after about Dembe that maybe we should get  him trained as a Pets As Therapy dog as he loves having attention and has such a loving nature. It’s definitely something we will consider in the future once we have his training mastered.

After the doctors we walked over to the mini Marks & Spencer as I had a delivery to pick up. As we walked through the door all the staff were smiling at Dembe. It is lovely when we take him anywhere with us in his assistance dog vets, people who have looked as miserable as sin just moments before just beam at him. I love the way this dog makes people smile …apart from you know who..Miserable…….you fill in the blanks.

Dembe was really well behaved in M&S and on the walk back to the car. To reward him this afternoon we took him up on Woodbury common and I accompanied them on my mobility scooter. So I will end this angry blog post with some beautiful photos of my hot dog, not hyperactive one. Stick to diagnosing people love, as animals are just not your forte.

The last one is Dembe working, wearing his assistance vest.

Thanks for reading!

Dry Eyes

I got diagnosed with dry eyes over ten years ago, it could have been 15 years ago, I just know Travis ( our first Weimaraner) was alive then. How I found out I had dry eyes was due to the fact a cigarette end had blown into my eye whilst we were in the car. The agony it caused I will never forget. I had a burn to my cornea and thankfully no lasting damage but a few weeks later my eyes were feeling very sore so I took myself off to the eye infirmary where I had a few tests and found out my eyes were incredibly dry.

On and off for years they have been treated ( very poorly) with the first line treatment for mild cases of dry eyes hypomellose. That treatment in all the years I have been taking it does nothing, the liquid evaporates off my eyeball in a matter of seconds and I am back to the sore, itchy burning feeling I basically put up with 24/7. On the odd occasion when I have made a fuss I am given lacrilube to use at night, which is alike vaseline for your eyeballs. It is fabulous stuff but it means you can see fuck all for hours once it has been applied so has to be done when you are certain you are going to sleep.

I have brought up with numerous doctors that my dry eyes were getting worse, that I am waking up with crusty eyes that then burn and sting for the rest of the day. For some reason I just haven’t pushed this and have allowed myself to be fobbed off with the excuse that it is my medication causing my dry eyes as if this is in some way my fault. I am now coming off all medication that causes dry eyes – even though I have been put on these after the diagnosis of dry eyes was given.

On Sunday morning I woke up with with my eyelid stuck to my eyeball. That is as grim as that sounds. Only I didn’t twig what was going on until after I rubbed my left eye and it felt like the top surface of my eyeball had been removed. The pain caused my eye to water profusely. I also worked out that this has been happening for months to a much lesser extent, I keep waking up with a searing pain in my eyes, my eyeball has been sticking to my eyelid.

I realised quite early on, that I had an abrasion on my cornea but I just didn’t want to have to go to the local minor injuries unit with the high probability that they would send me onto the eye infirmary. I foolishly thought how bad could it possibly get ? I decided that I would ignore it in the hope that the pain settled because ignoring it has always worked so well in the past. We decided that we would take Dembe up to the local supermarket to give him some experience of dealing with a shop environment, noise and large volumes of people. He handled it like a pro and we were both so proud of him.

He is walking like a dream and has stopped jumping up at me when I am on my scooter. He now sits beside me and waits for me to give him a cuddle.

My eye pain was ok as long as I was 100% distracted, so I threw myself into binding a quilt I had made for Jamie aka Mr Myasthenia Kid. I wanted to get it finished and he wanted it finished and on his bed! I managed to get that done but as soon as I finished and no longer had anything to distract me the eye pain ramped up by about 500.

I actually waited until Monday to take this photo.

We decided we would start watching season 3 of Stranger Things. I sat with a hot compress on my eye because my logic was the heat would help it as they advise a hot compress with dry eyes. I was kidding myself still that the eye pain was dry eye and would settle. I lasted 20 minutes until I asked Jay to take me to the local hospital where they had a minor injuries unit. I knew (well I hoped they still had it ) that they had all the kit for an eye exam, I kept my fingers crossed that they wouldn’t insist on sending me to the hospital and the eye infirmary. As I knew the wait would be horrendous and sitting up like that for several hours would knock me for six.

Jay dropped me at the eye infirmary and he took Dembe out for a walk. I am extremely grateful that I was seen within 20 minutes of arriving. It wasn’t busy but there were other people coming in with more serious issues than I had. I was ushered in but immediately told that they would only do a basic eye exam and then send me to the main hospital as I had Ehlers Danlos syndrome. I questioned this as I knew it was just an abrasion and no need for the trek to the hospital ( one I hate due to a couple of twatish doctors based there). I was informed as the eye is made up 100% of collagen they couldn’t mess about. I was shocked that this nurse was so on the ball with EDS. Normally they are clueless, not their fault if they have never come across it I must add.

I made a few grumbling noises along the lines of its just an abrasion there is nothing wrong with the rest of my eye and that sitting for hours up there would make me much sicker in the long run. I had an eye test which I think I did reasonably well or well enough to convince her I wasn’t in danger of losing my sight imminently. So she acquiesced and did a proper eye exam. The local anesthetic stang like hell, it felt like I had a million paper cuts on the surface of my eye and she had poured vinegar on it. Once the stinging wore off it provided me with a lot of relief as the pain was dulled massively. She had a look at the structure of my eye which was all sound. She then added the lovely yellow stain that they put in and immediately could see I had a superficial abrasion right across the centre of my eye. I hadn’t been able to pinpoint where the pain was coming from my eye hurt and hurt more every time I had to blink. It made sense that it was right across my eye.

Me when I got back from the minor injuries unit. I was given antibiotic ointment, as my eyes were so dry it would provide some relief as it has to be put in 4 times a day. I was made to promise that if it wasn’t any better the following day I had to head to the main hospital and get it checked out. Thankfully it was an awful lot better the following day.

I have an appointment with my gp next week that I had booked for another reason – which I will still be bringing up! By the time I go to my appointment the local injuries unit would have informed them that I had an abrasion on my cornea caused by my eyeball sticking to my eyelid and that my dry eyes need to be treated! However as it is more than a week away I have spent £30 on dry eye ointment for night time to keep my eyes moist and to prevent them sticking to my eyelids again and some much stronger eye drops that should provide more relief than the tap water ( sarcasm but that might as well be what it is) I have been prescribed up until now and that someone saw fit to remove from my repeat prescription list. 

My eyes are still quite uncomfortably dry, I am awaiting my delivery of the day time drops as nothing I have here if I wish to be able to see at all will provide any relief. When people say they have dry eyes unless you have experienced it you would never realise how bloody painful it can be.

Brave

I don’t class myself as brave although I have had plenty of people in the past tell me I am. Most of the time I am a quivering wreck, my anxiety has been awful of late, if there is nothing to worry about my brain will find something and keep me awake at night about it. Dealing with people, crowds, noise or even just being in the outside world alone fills me with terror. Yes on many occasions I force myself out of the house and attend appointments alone, dropped off outside but once out of the safety net of the car I am on my own. After over ten years of being pushed everywhere in a wheelchair ( I don’t have the strength or the capacity in my joints to move under my own steam without dislocations and severe pain, oh and the risk of fainting) today I took a brave step into the outside world alone and went to my hospital appointment by myself. I have never done this. I have never seen a hospital consultant alone in the whole history of me being sick. This is huge.

Now a few people have got hung up on the fact that I didn’t travel the hours journey to the hospital by myself. Having pointed out the fact I don’t do crowds, loud noise, bright lights or social situations alone, what the hell do you want from me people? Public transport is shit, I just couldn’t have done the journey on my mobility scooter from my town to the city. Taking the bus or train would have meant multiple changes in places I don’t know. I’d have had a fucking heart attack, there isn’t enough valium in the world to get me through that. 

This is the person who freaks out about calling for a taxi let alone getting in one. One small step at a time folks you don’t run a marathon the first time you decide to have a jog, so why the judgement about the fact I didn’t travel alone? It was still fucking huge for me to navigate the hospital alone – one of the biggest in the area, to a clinic I have been possibly twice before ( as it location changed within the hospital).

I also need to point out any medical appointments set off my anxiety and can lead to me not sleeping properly for several weeks before I go. Due to the horrendous treatment I have suffered at the hands of the medical profession in the past. So I may go to doctor’s appointments at the gp surgery by myself and the same for dental appointments but it doesn’t mean I am happy or confident doing it. I hate it. It has got to the point where I just don’t like, feel / safe or comfortable if I have to leave the house by myself. My home is my safety zone where I control the light, noise, amount of people etc

So for clarity I travelled in our car for an hour with my husband Mr Myasthenia Kid and our trusty sidekick Dembe, who is in training to become my assistance dog and a bit of an emotional crutch as well to be honest. We tried to get parked up but there were no spaces, so hubby had to drop me off in front of the hospital, he set up my mobility scooter, helped me get on and left. Yes folks he left, I had the appointment letter in my hand and off I went on my adventure on a mobility scooter I have also never used by myself before – someone has always been with me. So many hours were spent last night panicking about it breaking down, knocking stuff over and getting lost. This hospital is not very user friendly and it is very easy to miss a turn and get lost.

This hospital is one of the largest in this part of the country ( South West of England) . Its main entrance goes on forever shops, coffee shops, stands for charities etc and hundreds of bloody people. Who’s walking speed resembles an extra on the walking dead ( For the uninitiated a Zombie). I am not massively confident on my mobility scooter owing to the fact on a couple of occasions I have only just managed to avoid being headline news in the locality…..once I nearly went over the sea wall because I was chatting and not looking where I was steering and on another occasion I moved the control in the wrong direction shot off the pavement into the path of an oncoming car. Despite the look of abject horror on my face I got a mouthful of abuse from the driver ( and I can’t blame them for that). So my nerves were a little frayed already and I had been having nightmares about old people going down like ten pins in my wake.

It actually went a lot smoother than I had imagined it would. That wouldn’t have been hard though as at 2am this morning, I was going over every possible scenario in my head. Members of staff asked me if I needed help ( that was probably the look of sheer panic on my face) asked if I needed doors held open, lifts held. In fact being alone on a mobility scooter I got more help than when I was with Mr Myasthenia Kid in a wheelchair. Which strikes me as a bit bizarre as even with him we still needed assistance with doors etc.

I checked myself in at the clinic and tried to find a place where my scooter and I wouldn’t be in anyone’s way. One of my major gripes with hospitals is that despite it being quite obvious that people with disabilities will use them, they do not provide waiting rooms with a space where you can park up a wheelchair or mobility scooter where you are out of the way. It seems a bit fucking ridiculous if you ask me that hospitals seem to not think about accessibility when it comes to their outpatient departments. They ram the waiting room spaces with chairs but when you bring your own it’s a bit of a bloody nightmare to find somewhere to park up and not cause a major obstruction for staff and patients. Anyway rant over. I found somewhere that I thought was out of the way and thankfully it was.

My appointment went well, managed to get myself back on some medication to prevent my migraines as the amitriptyline isn’t doing its job, I have had two migraines in the last two weeks. Plus I really shouldn’t be on amitriptyline with PoTs

I managed not to crash into chairs etc as I reversed out of the room and turned outside. I did however manage to get lost on my way out of the hospital. Probably because I got cocky it was easily remedied with reversing and taking the turn I missed. When I got to the foyer I was just getting ready to find a spot to stop and get my phone out so I could ring Jay and left him know I needed to be collected, when I heard him say to Dembe “There’s mummy look”. Dembe was so well behaved, he came over walking beautifully on his lead and then jumped up and gave me lots of kisses. I can’t tell you how glad I was to see them both. I was no longer on my own and I could make my way back to the safety of the car.

It was also the first time since we had started training that he has walked with Jay and me, when I have been using the mobility scooter. He walked beautifully and I could fully concentrate on driving rather than worrying that I was going to run him over by accident.

Today’s travel and navigating the hospital corridors have left me exhausted. I don’t feel particularly brave but I do know this was a big deal. Maybe when I am not so exhausted I will be able to appreciate how very brave I was today.

A hard week health-wise

The last week has been really hard health wise. I haven’t been the sickest I have ever been but I have certainly been sicker than I have for a while. There is no “reason” that I can identify for this other than perhaps the decline in my health that I have been waiting for since we lost Mollie and Frankie. Stress, emotional upset and change can all upset my chronic health conditions and it seems everything wanted to bubble to the surface last week. I did just power on through which now I am wondering if that was the right thing because I am having more and more MG like symptoms this week – shortness of breath, limb weakness etc sorry I should have said my idiopathic hemifacial spasm the latest bullshit diagnosis for my Ptosis, totally ignoring all the other issues.

If I am honest there is only one symptom that has me terrified and that is when I will suddenly and for no reason lose the ability to take a deep breath. No matter how hard I try to suck the air in my chest fails to move. I end up taking a series of short breaths to minimise the panic that rises in me. I have an elephant sat on my chest who is refusing to budge and I know that if I went to hospital my breathing would be ignored and I would be labelled with a mental health condition rather than the fact that there is something going on at the neuromuscular junction which has been proved time and time again with the ice-pack test. Apparently for the latest neurologist I have seen for these symptoms back in 2017 I believe, it is just a placebo effect. Words fail me.

Sunday freaked me out a bit as well. I wasn’t feeling great when I got up and knew there were a couple of jobs that I had to do, then I could sit around and rest for the remainder of the day. Once those jobs were completed I noticed my legs had become exceptionally heavy, like there were lead weights attached. I could walk but it was very slow and shuffling because lifting my feet was taking a supreme effort. I attempted to climb the stairs but that was impossible. I may as well have been sat at base camp for Mount Everest without oxygen, as those stairs were impossible. After attempting three I came back down on my bum and then wondered how the hell I was going to stand up again. Thank god for Mr Myasthenia Kid being home and with it happening on a Sunday. He could help me to my feet and get me to the sofa, plus organise my medication. 

You see I get to take Mestinon / Pyridostigmine Bromide for my PoTs symptoms. I usually dose as follows 7am 60mg, 11am 30mg, 3pm 30mg or 60mg depending on how I am feeling and then 30mg at 7pm. I have to be careful with Mestinon by body is extremely sensitive to it. Too much and I can be twitching all over but mainly my face and it can trigger terrible stomach cramps. It takes a lot for me to take another 60mg during the day but at both 11am and 3pm I ended up taking the full dose because without it my legs wouldn’t work. My legs not working is not a PoTs symptom, it isn’t an EDS symptom either. There is no medical explanation for this symptom, other than the fact the medical profession believe its all in my head. Which is why when my breathing gets difficult I panic. This medical condition that appears so much like MG / Neuromuscular junction disease will be ignored and it could end up killing me. I am lucky, my symptoms are mild but I have bouts like this especially when the weather gets warmer where my body fails to cope. I worry one day I will be so ill that the doctors refusal to think outside the box will mean that I will be killed by medical negligence and that is a fucking scary thought.

I mean if there is nothing wrong with my breathing……why have I had home oxygen since 2009? In the current economic climate of ongoing austerity since 2010 why if I don’t need support for breathing on occasion why has this precious money wasting resource not been taken from me? Home Oxygen can’t be cheap,  I have an oxygen concentrator a machine that pulls oxygen from the air and then feeds it down a nasal cannula at a purer form. In case of power cuts I also have to have a huge oxygen canister in the house, I have to notify the local fire-brigade and I am classed as a vulnerable service user by the people who maintain the power grid. The canister also impacts my home insurance cost. If I didn’t need it I would get rid of it, not only are the canister and oxygen concentrator ugly they are taking up valuable space in my small home. So in an age of cuts to all services who is covering their arse by allowing me to keep my home oxygen? 

Home Oxygen won’t save me if I end up in a full blown Myasthenic crisis. This is where the muscles around the lungs and the diaphragm become paralysed and can’t move so you can’t get the air in as when you attempt to breath nothing happens. In this situation you need to be in hospital on C-pap or Bi-pap or in the worst case scenario put into an induced coma whilst they ventilate you – sticking a tube down your throat and breathing for you ( intubation ).  Today as I am writing this the elephant has returned, breathing is hard. I took my mestinon at 7.30am already my right eye is starting to droop, its seems I may have to take my next dose earlier.

The Myasthenic like symptoms are the worst thing I currently deal with and I am lucky they are mild the rest of the time. Last week was like a smorgasbord of every medical condition I have. My PoTs symptoms were crazy – heat induced despite me upping the salt tablets ( to 8 a day ) there  were multiple episodes of pre sycope ( near fainting). I had vertigo luckily I caught that attack very early so I only had to endure the room spinning for an hour but it leaves me tired and feeling out of sorts. I had a migraine on Friday one of the worst I have had in months. It was actually the first migraine I have had since January 14th ( my last one was the Monday after Dembe came home with us). My Tinnitus has been so loud it has been difficult to hear the TV and radio. I have felt constantly exhausted .

Then there was the joint pain and my right shoulder continually fighting to escape it’s socket. To be honest I have only scratched the surface of what I have dealt with over the last 7 days. I really don’t like to say much most of the time because I don’t want to be accused of moaning but if I stay silent about it people think that you aren’t as sick as you claim you are. You just can’t win, you’re an attention seeker if you say something and a liar when you don’t. It drives me nuts. I stay silent because to be honest it is easier that way. I don’t want Jay aka Mr Myasthenia Kid worrying about me when he is at work, I don’t want lots of platitudes on social media. It isn’t because I think they are false it makes me feel like I am drawing attention to myself and trying to play the sympathy card and that’s just not me. 

It’s been really hard this week being a puppy mum, I love Dembe dearly, I wouldn’t be without him but it is hard work trying to keep him occupied whilst using as little energy as possible. On the whole he is brilliantly behaved but like it is with kids there are days when he can be a little bugger and whilst amusing, it can be frustrating, especially when you aren’t feeling well. He is just a puppy though at a little over 6 months old and over time he will calm down. I guess I was so used to Mollie, Frankie and Willow being older and more sedate this has come as a real shock. Jay does loads, he gets up and does his breakfast, he does all the walking and he comes home everyday for lunch to give me a little break and check I am ok. I take my hat off to those of you who are chronically sick and have children, I don’t know how you do it.

It has been a hard week health-wise, I just hope things start to settled down very soon.

Adulting

Well it seems that the universe isn’t done with fraying my nerves. 24 hours after last week’s blog pots was published we found out that our car was in need of some expensive repairs. The repairs were going to cost more than the car was worth – just the cambelt change we had been advised would cost us £400 with the best case scenario. On top of that we needed to get the mid section of the exhaust repaired as Jay had gone over a stick or stone and that had removed the exhaust from its mountings. It is at times like this I really can’t abide this adulting shit. I wish sometimes that someone else would swoop in and fix it all but then that would mean I wasn’t an adult at all. At 45 I need to realise the days of someone swooping in have long gone.

Being nervous about my tooth extraction went out the window. Instead Jay and I had come to the realisation that as much as we loved the car we have that this was probably a slide into it becoming a money pit. With one of the hospital consultants I see an hours drive away we need a reliable car. Other than trips to the hospital we do very little mileage. But I can’t be sat at the side of the road waiting for the breakdown service. 

I did a quick search online – this has been how I have found the last two cars. I thought I had found something ideal a silver Peugeot 207 Estate. It looked in good nick, nothing on there was screaming out to me. So rang the garage and this is where its gets bizarre. This garage was advertising on several well known sites yet when the phone was answered it was answered with just a “hello” not a “Hello XXX garage”. Initially I thought I had dialled the wrong number, so I asked if I had rung the garage, to which there was a bit of a pause and the guy at the end of the phone said yes. I then proceeded to ask him if the car was still for sale and if it had a recent cambelt change, full service history. The answer I got was yes the car was still for sale but he didn’t know about the cambelt or where the paperwork for the car was. The bloke sounded strange but I put it down to maybe he just wasn’t the full shilling. I should have taken a breath and realised how dodgy this all sounded. I mean a garage who answer the phone without telling you the name of the business, a car for sale ( and they only had 4 advertised on all the sites) and he didn’t know where the paperwork was. However I was stressed, I wasn’t thinking straight and we needed a car. Jay was dispatched by Taxi to the garage.

Whilst Jay was on route something was nagging at me about the car – my brain had finally engaged. So I did a background check on the cars history. Its cost me 50p and I could look up 5 different cars should I want to. What I found out concerned me, the car had not been on the road since 2017 ( which would mean an 8 year old car in 2017 hadn’t been able to be sold). It had failed its 2017 MOT and the list of fails and advisories were shocking. Ok I admit I had to google what half of them meant but even I knew a sub-frame failure wasn’t good. I messaged Jay and told him to come back. He messaged me back saying they hadn’t been able to find the garage – another bizarre thing, as the guy on the phone had told me the full address was on the website. However Google Maps had never heard of this garage. Thirty quid lighter and very stressed Jay got home with a migraine. He had to sit outside in the cold for a while, whilst I got him some pain killers and anti-sickness medication. He really did look rough.

So back to the computer I went, our options were being dictated by what was nearby and what boot size the car was as I have a mobility scooter and a wheelchair that I need to be able to put in the back. Most cars other than estates and people carriers just don’t have that kind of space. Just when I was about to cry with frustration I discovered a small garage 12 miles away that had a Renault Grande Scenic for sale, this was the next model up from what we currently drive so we knew the boot space was going to be ideal. I showed Jay the photos and I then rang the garage. This time I was told the name of the place I was ringing, which was a good sign! I then had a chat about the car and asked if the cambelt had been changed. The guy said no but it would be changed before we bought it. 

I did another background check it was 22 days without an MOT and probably about the same for car tax. I looked through its MOT history it had passed it’s last MOT with no advisories ( for those of you in the USA etc who are unfamiliar with the UK system cars have to be checked every year by a garage after they are 3 years old. This is to check it is safe and its emissions are compliant with the law. Advisories are things the garage notes that tells you although it didn’t fail the MOT on those points they will need repairs before your next MOT.) It had failed MOT’s in the past but all the work needed to ensure it passed and all the advisories had also been addressed. 

The problem was we had been advised that our Cambelt could go at any moment and we were only using the car now for essential travel. Where we needed to go was out in farming country and was down tiny single track roads. Should the Cambelt go out there we would effectively be up a certain creek without a certain paddle. Thankfully my parents had text me to let me know that they were up at their caravan ( about 3 miles away from us) so I rang them and explained the problem. They came to the rescue with my dad taking us over to the garage to have a look at the car. We took Dembe with us and he was such a good boy, as he isn’t brilliant in the car as he can whine a bit but he barely made a sound.

As we pulled up the the garage I could see that the owner had pulled the car out onto the tiny forecourt for us. Believe me I have travelled an hour to see a car at a garage in the past and found it at the back of the lot hemmed in by other cars despite them knowing we wanted a test drive! So that was another tick in the box. We had a look at the car, it was perfect for us. The boot was enormous and technically it is a 7 seater as there are two folded down seats ( completely flat ) in the boot. The car is big enough to take Dembe’s crate and my mobility scooter un-assembled. My mobility scooter comes apart so it can fit in the boot of a car. 

As we were happy with the car the deposit was paid and now we play the waiting game. The car needs an MOT and whatever work needs done for it to pass, if it needs any. It will be having a full service, the cambelt changed and the rear drivers side passenger window fixed. It’s an electric window which isn’t working, not that we open the rear windows with Dembe in the back. 

I am now going stir crazy as although Jay is still using our current car to take Dembe up to the common for his walks, I am not going with him as if the car breaks down I can’t walk home. I don’t have the ability or strength to walk should that happen. So I am currently going stir crazy as I haven’t left the house since Friday afternoon. Normally I go out of the house in the car about 5 times a week. That drive out onto the common, even though I just sit in the car, keeps me sane. It gives me something different to look at. I am at the point now where I just can’t wait to get outside. Of course this week I had a load of appointments my hospital appointment was booked for tomorrow so that has been cancelled. I was supposed to be at physio today but again its been cancelled due to not wanting to drive the car that far. The only appointment that is still going ahead as planned is my dentist appointment Friday for my tooth extraction. If we don’t have our new ( 2nd hand car) here by then I will take a taxi. 

Whilst sorting out the replacement car I ignored the fact that I had a UTI brewing, which caused me loads of pain over the weekend and I am only just feeling back to normal now. Thankfully I already had antibiotics in the house so as soon as I realised it wasn’t just an irritated bladder I started taking them. So Saturday afternoon I ended up having to go to bed as I felt so ill.

So we are on the countdown now to getting the car, I just can’t wait to get outside and see something other than my home and the garden!

what’s a cambelt?

Sh*t

My fear of the dentist has become sort of legendary on the pages of this blog. It’s now no longer a fear `but has evolved into a phobia, which would be fine were it not for the fact that I can see in my future lots of dental work being needed. Which fills me with dread.

The phobia really took hold last year, I was sat in the waiting room and I could hear the sound of a dentists drill going in one of the consultation rooms. As I heard the drill sick reached the back of my throat and I started to sweat. I felt incredibly light headed and I had to fight the urge of just getting the hell out of there…if indeed my legs would have worked. 

I have never had a very good relationship with dentistry. I have a high pain threshold everywhere apart from my mouth. I am incredibly sensitive even a dentists tool checking my teeth can trigger sharp nerve pain. I often wonder if I have more nerves in my gob than the average human being? I also wonder if it is because you are so vulnerable lying their unable to move or communicate effectively that my fear or phobia has now taken grip. Pain happens at every dentist visit, even check ups. My reaction gets the same response from whatever dentist I see, they simply don’t believe that their action has caused me pain or discomfort. To be constantly told that your pain isn’t real by the people who you are supposed to put your trust in just erodes it over time. I’d love to say that as I have got older my visits to the dentist have got better…they haven’t and now a week Friday I will be going for my first extraction since 2003.

Last year in May I was told I needed a filling. Instead of stopping there my dentist in his friendly way that he was probably taught at university as a way to talk to patients then gave me every minute detail of what he would do to fill the tooth. You see the tooth was decayed beyond saving. He would remove all the pulp you know the bit where the nerve sits, clean it out and then fill the tooth. Panic coursed through me as he continued to give me every last detail. You see for this patient the more technical detail I know the worse it is. My heart rate his risen just typing this, even though I know that he won’t be doing this to my tooth next week. Remembering the appointment still fills me with horror.

I duly made an appointment and the earliest I could get was July. Which was crap because it meant I had a two month wait in which to build to complete hysterics. I was all set for July 12th and then the week before the appointment the dental surgery rang and cancelled. My head was all over the place as that was the same week my mum had been told she had cancer but what type and how bad wouldn’t be known until she was operated on. They offered me an alternative date but we had visitors coming so I said I would ring them back and make an appointment. I never did.

I won’t lie it was easier just to forget about the dentist than deal with it and just get it done. That is when I knew that my fear had turned to a phobia because rational sensible Rachel should have taken over and just bit the bullet and got the filling done. Instead I have endured a year of toothache on and off and the fear of developing an abscess.

When my husband had a phone call to prompt him to book an appointment I asked him to book mine as well. I didn’t want to go but the pain in my tooth was becoming more severe. I’d rather go and get the tooth pulled than wait to get an abscess ( I’ve had an abscess before it took three months to sort out as I developed a dry socket). A dry socket is agony but that is still preferable to me than hearing the drill go whilst it is inside my mouth.

So yesterday despite the mounting panic rising within me I went to the dentist. The dentist tried to tell me off about not coming back for the filling so I just told him my mum got diagnosed with cancer and that I just forgot. I didn’t forget I just chose not to remember. He shut right up and apologised. I then told him that the tooth that needed a filling now needed to be removed and that I wasn’t taking no for an answer. He tried to tell me that he wouldn’t remove the tooth if it didn’t need to be taken out. So I told him either he did it or someone else would. He was quite shocked as normally I am really polite and don’t say boo to a goose – always being terrified that being rude would cause more pain. I explained the tooth had been giving me toothache at a low level for months and that I just wanted it out. It is right at the back of my mouth and its being missing will make no difference cosmetically. He said he would take a look. So with my heart beating out of my chest he lowered the chair.

He took a look at it and asked me again if I wanted it removed to which I said yes. He informed me that the tooth was now fractured right down the middle. There is very little left of my actual tooth as it is being held together with a filling. He said due to the state of it he would remove it for me but he would need to keep an eye on the tooth in front of it as that had developed some decay and would need a small filling. I immediately jumped in and told him I didn’t want any detail. Small filling fine I can live with that. I just don’t need to know what that entails.

I was quite surprised during the appointment to find out I still have a fully erupted wisdom tooth. I was under the impression that they had all gone when I was a teenager as I had a few removed due to them trapping a small piece of gum between the wisdom tooth and the next tooth as they erupted. That piece of gum would then balloon forming like a pink bubble that would then cause horrendous pain. So all my previous wisdom teeth had been removed at the dentist. He explained that the wisdom tooth was showing signs of decay and due to its position it would be nigh on impossible to put a filling in. This again would need to be watched as it would need to be extracted. I don’t know if he means by him or if he meant I will need to have to have it done at the hospital. News to me anyway that I have an erupted wisdom tooth.

I was in and out on that appointment, I booked next weeks appointment and then went out into the fresh air. My legs had turned to jelly and I felt pretty close to passing out. Which isn’t nice when you are alone and waiting for hubby to get the car. I thought ( I don’t know why) they had a bench outside and was going to park myself on that. They didn’t so I had to balance myself against a wall in such a way that if I did pass out there would be minimal damage to me.

Two hours later and my legs were still jelly and I was still feeling like I was going to vomit. Just from the feeling of panic that a visit to the dentist will produce. Jay kept telling me how brave I had been to attend when I hate it so much and for stating my case for getting the tooth pulled. I didn’t feel brave I felt awful. Its a difficult feeling to describe. You know logically the fear and how it controls you is out of proportion to the event but you can’t help it. There is no logic to it and it isn’t a case of talking yourself down. For me it is a whole body reaction, I feel faint, I feel like I am going to be sick, I find it difficult to speak, my legs turn to jelly and feel like they will crumple under me at any moment. The whole time my brain is screaming “Shit get out of here”. My heart rate well is probably close to the 200’s the way my chest feels and all the while my exterior maybe cool and showing none of the inner turmoil / fear that I am feeling.

Maybe that is the problem? It seems no matter how many times I tell people I am terrified of the dentist, it is dismissed with “well nobody likes the dentist”. But it is just so much more than that. I will be honest last week when my tooth was really sore I contemplated going to the kitchen shit drawer getting a pair of pliers and removing my own tooth. Just so I could avoid going to the dentist. If you think that is normal behaviour for someone who doesn’t like the dentist… then you have a screw loose.

My gp tried to help and told me there was CBT online courses I could try to get over my phobia / fear. I told her I was sure there was but when your own dentist fails to appreciate how much going to see him fucks you up then me doing all that work is pointless. It’s not like I can up and change dentists any time I like it took us years to get an NHS dentist when we moved here. Many of them now have closed lists. So it simply isn’t a case of moving and finding a more sympathetic one. However Jay spoke to his dentist that morning and she said she would accept me onto her list if I wanted to move. I am giving my dentist one last chance. If he blows it this time I will be taking her up on the offer of moving within the practice.