Recovery is dragging

I wrote last week about the consequences of going out and I clearly didn’t have a clue how bad things would be as I am still suffering after my day trip. I think maybe it is just rotten timing that ever since I have been feeling very tired and run down. This last Monday I ended up with a hideous migraine that knocked me flat on my back for over 12 hours and had Mr Myasthenia Kid have to come home from work to look after me. I am glad I am out the other side of that but it has shocked me how battered and bruised I am still feeling for having a few hours out of the house.

I am guessing having a solid six hour block of socialising, driving a scooter and having to use a lot of brain / muscle power probably wasn’t the best idea. The longest I am normally out for is probably 90 minutes at an absolute push and that will leave me more exhausted for normal for up to two days after. My days when I don’t leave the house are in cycles of rest and activity. I have to pace myself or I end up paying for it. It hasn’t helped that there have been appointments that I have been unable to not attend – ringing up and explaining to the receptionist that you need to re-book because you are shattered never goes down well. There isn’t really a word in the English language that accurately conveys the level of exhaustion because we overuse words like fatigue, shattered, tired etc. For me it gets to the point where I can feel like I am having an out if body experience or that I am dreadfully hungover combined with feeling so utterly exhausted it can be really hard to motivate myself to move. 

I have been on my embroidery machine and sewing machine a lot as I am making Christmas gifts for friends and family. I know it is only October but I get panicky if things aren’t made and then I start to feel stressed which means I no longer enjoy making the items. At the moment I have been limited to an hour or two a day, which doesn’t help me get loads done but it is the longest I can sit without the pain becoming so intense that I have to lie down the rest of the day or concentrate for. Obviously on the embroidery machine when it is stitching out I don’t have to concentrate on anything but I do need to be switched on enough to know what step comes next as for the first time I have been using the embroidery machine to do applique and I am really enjoying it.

I know I should have taken it easier last week but even after 12 years I think I can push it and there will be no consequences. I never ever learn. Maybe I simply refuse to.

This week my body has just thrown a hissy fit and ensured that I can’t carry on ignoring it when it sends out distress signals. Every bloody condition I have is flaring out of nowhere – Hidradenitis Suppurativa two abscesses after at least a month to 6 weeks without anything, Arthritis hands as stiff as can be, Nerve Pain left leg is burning which it hasn’t done in years, Tinnitus (so loud I am struggling to hear anything else) Migraine and now a headache every day since, nausea, IBS, adhesion pain, Muscle Spasms in my back and feet you can always guarantee will make me swear like a sailor literally everything is kicking off at the moment. I always find pain adds considerably to the fatigue. 

This isn’t a woe is me post or an attempt for sympathy, I am just explaining how things are at the moment and why at the moment I am struggling to come up with dynamic or scintillating posts. I am finding it hard enough to follow a conversation let alone put an intelligent blog post into words.

I do count my blessings though, Dembe is my hero. On Monday when I was so sick with my migraine he wouldn’t leave my side at all. I thank my lucky stars I have him as even on the days when I am really suffering and thank goodness they are few and far between he is stuck to me like glue and always makes me smile.

So I promise to attempt to be kinder to myself over the next week and get back on an even keel.

Consequences

I went out on Sunday with friends…. I know that sentence seems bizarre. It is something I haven’t done in 12 years. On the surface it may appear to some that to attempt such a thing must mean that I am doing better. I mean I left the house and socialised for 6 hours. What they didn’t see was the fact there were days of pacing so activity followed by rest periods. Massive amounts of ensuring I got my medications scheduled at the right time and attempting not to let my anxiety take over.

We planned going to the create and craft show back in July. As the ticket only cost £8, I was prepared to lose it if on the day I woke up and wasn’t well enough to attend. It seemed so far off in the future the 29th September that it may as well been a year away. So when I realised it was the coming weekend it set me into a panic. My biggest fear was becoming ill away from home and then ruining the day for my friends.

The anxiety leading up to this event was off the chart. I lost a few nights sleep over it. I kept catastrophizing, what if’s? The stupid thing is many of these what if’s have never happened. It was a fear of the unknown, of never having been to a Create and Craft show or knowing how busy it would be.  Surprisingly the morning of the show the anxiety had subsided and I was able to look ahead to the day. I was almost relaxed which then made me anxious.

I had more medication on me than a pharmacy to cover me for every eventuality.  I had my 4 hourly meds – pyridostigmine and pseudoephedrine to ensure that my blood pressure remained high enough for me to remain vertical and not suffer horrendous fatigue. Extra pain relief in case sitting on my scooter for all that time caused muscle spasms or just pain. Stugeron in case my vertigo decided to kick off and cause me problems. Taken at the earliest opportunity it can stop an attack in its tracks. Buscopan, in case due to nerves my bowel adhesion pain decided to pop up and make itself known. Paracetamol – to give me extra back up for my pain relief. I decanted oramorph ( liquid morphine) into a smaller bottle so I didn’t have to carry a huge one with me. Alarms were set on my phone, compression socks on, allergy lists, medication lists and medical condition lists were safely stowed in my bag. Along with a list of my doctors and next of kin. All this and I was only leaving the house for a few hours. If that all sounds like someone who is doing better let me know.

Every trick in my book was employed to ensure that I would be able to cope with this trip out ( as a one off ). Everything that could be done in advance of Sunday was done. Clothes for the day sorted by Wednesday, down to underwear and compression stockings. All clothes had to be comfortable, in layers so that I could be warm or cooler depending on how my temperature decided to behave on the day. Normally I am always cold. All medicines, allergy lists, medical info was printed out weeks in advance and kept in an envelope so on the day ( or day before ) it could just be slipped into my bag. My bag was packed on Friday and Saturday, last minute items Chilly bottles of drinks were added on Sunday morning. Nothing was left to chance. Every eventuality was planned for. Jay would be staying at home with Dembe and would be ready to come and get me should I need collecting early.

The day itself was fantastic, I managed to chat to lots of people. I met the ladies behind the scrap-busting quilt challenge from Sugar Bowl Crafts and bought half a metre of material from then, some Anna Maria Horner fabric. I chatted at length to the local branch of the Embroidery Guild and would have signed up to attend meetings had they not taken place on a Saturday. Not driving and having hubby work in retail meaning Saturdays off are like gold dust means I miss out on a lot of things. I also spent a great deal of time talking to the Quilters Guild  region 4 which is my region. I am now considering entering a quilt into the novice category of The Festival of Quilts as 2020 is the last year I would be able to enter this category. You have to have been sewing less than 3 years, I started October 7th 2017.

I could have spent an absolute fortune on fabric. There were just so many beautiful fabrics from so many different designers. I managed to pick myself up some bargains. I got some gorgeous fat quarters, some Christmas and some non Christmas.

 

I managed to pick up some good quality thread for £1 a reel. The pinky one is for me to finish a cushion cover as I didn’t have any threads that were even close to the colour of the fabric. The blue thread is for my Christmas table runners. As I tried applique on my embroidery machine last week for the first time, I absolutely loved it.

Yesterday I found out my snowmen are going to be the Brother Embroidery machine group that I belong to banner for the month. Which was a wonderful surprise.

A lot of my Christmas fabric was bought to make Snowmen and Father Christmas table runners as gifts. So I went in with a set list and didn’t deviate from my plan. It would have been incredibly easy to go mad but I have so much fabric that I need to only buy what I need, not what I want! Or I will have to make another scrap-busting quilt very soon!

By the time we had finished at the show I was getting cold and exhausted. I was in bed by 6.15pm as I could no longer hold myself upright and had already suffered a bad fall in the kitchen about a hour earlier caused by being over tired. I was asleep before 8pm and slept all the way through waking at around 6.30am. By 7am I had badly scalded myself with steam from the kettle so Monday was effectively written off as I spent the day on the sofa with my hand in a bowl of cold water.

Yesterday was pretty quiet too although I did manage to stitch out a cushion front for a friend. Only because hubby was home and I didn’t have to do anything other than look after myself. I managed to forget to take my blood pressure boosting medications so by 4pm I was wondering if I would make it to dog training. I took my medication and had two cups of coffee and that saw me through. However this morning…Wednesday all the activity has caught up with me and I feel hungover, the concentration span of a gnat and every part of my body hurts.

I knew that I wouldn’t get away with going out unscathed, I am a little surprised that it has taken over 48 hours to hit me properly. Normally it is 24 hours before I feel an outings / events full effects. But this was a huge deal and I had probably kept myself going with the adrenaline still firing and the fact Monday I couldn’t do anything and I was still limited yesterday. There are always consequences, I will always end up paying for enjoying myself. I can’t complain it is far worse not to have done anything and still wake up feeling like you have been run over by a truck. I might not look that sick but looks are very deceiving. Only people who really know me, know how I look when I am taking a nosedive. This morning I only had to catch sight of myself in the mirror to know that this was the day I would be paying for trying to be normal.

So it was a huge deal for me going out on Sunday, it wont be a regular thing as I don’t want to spend days recovering no matter how much I enjoy myself. This is now recovery day three and this is the most multisystemic one. Today my blood pressure is misbehaving, I am white as a sheet and my pain is at a higher level than the norm. I would love nothing more than to announce that my health has made such a significant improval that a trip out with friends had no consequences for me but sadly that just isn’t the case.

Massive thank you to Alison and Tracey for looking after me. Also Chris for driving us.

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.

Hoping for a quiet 2019

My last post was published on the 10th of January when I felt like my whole world had caved in. The last few weeks have been very hard, I miss Frankie and Mollie so much that my heart aches. There has not been a day that has gone by where I haven’t wept with the pain of losing them as suddenly as we did. To lose two dogs in 7 days is something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. I wouldn’t have got through it without hubby by my side. In fact I would have probably given up completely had he not been here.

 
Due to the shock, upset, grief hubby has taken some time off work. He already suffers with anxiety and depression and to ensure he didn’t take a nose dive he saw the doctor and got himself signed off. He didn’t want to see anyone or talk to anyone. Losing Mollie hit him very hard as she was his dogs. Plus it was very traumatic for us over 24 hours where it became clear that she had suffered from a stroke and there would be no recovery from this. We nursed her overnight and made sure she wasn’t suffering. Right up until the end she only wanted her dad, whenever she was out of his sight she panicked. Jay stayed with her until the end as I had stayed with Frankie just the week before. To say our hearts were broken would have been an understatement.
 
I took a break from this blog as since the beginning back in 2008 the dogs have featured quite heavily in it. My Gravatar is me with Frankie, Frankie is the banner on WordPress, on Twitter his photo is my profile picture and its the same on Facebook. Although I have managed to change my about me pages on both blog platforms, I can’t remove his photo from any of my social media profile photos.  It feels like a huge chunk of my life has just vanished. Life as I knew it was taken away from me in the space of 7 days. I never knew I could feel so utterly broken by the passing of three dogs in just a little over the year.
 
For a few years Mr Myasthenia Kid and I had talked about what would happen when we no longer had any dogs. Initially we had said we would get a Labrador ( black) then we talked about a Beagle and also a Bracco Italiano. However for the last few months I had said I didn’t know if I wanted another dog, I knew losing our last two Weimaraners would hit me really badly and by getting another dog meant at some point in the future I would have to go through the pain of losing it all over again. Jay was not having any of it, he said that I was already completely socially isolated and without a dog I would have no company at all. He felt it would be very damaging to my mental health. He was right, as 7 days without a dog in the house were the worst thing ever. I missed everything about having a dog, the cuddles, the mess, the unconditional love, someone to have silly conversations with.
 
By the Sunday after Mollie’s passing we decided that we would get another dog and we started looking on-line for Labrador puppies. I had to give myself a crash course on Labrador’s having not ever owned one. I located several breeders who had litters on The Kennel Club Website. Luckily one lady immediately responded to my email and told us she had two male yellow labs for sale. Obviously we had originally said we wanted a black lab but by this point it didn’t matter what colour it was. We needed our house to feel like a home again, we were both distraught and sinking fast. We arranged to travel to see the 2 pups available the following day.
 
The rest is history, we now own a 9 week old Yellow Labrador called Dembe. We chose his name from the TV programme the blacklist, it means peace. Which you will probably agree we need by the bucket full. Dembe came home with us on Friday 11th January. You can read all about him   here as I have started his own blog for him. I will from time to time have photos of him on this blog but it is much easier to have all the news about him on a separate blog. Every Monday I will give a run down of what he has been up to the previous week. 
 
Some of you may be judging us, that we got a new dog too quickly or that we didn’t love our other dogs that much because we replaced them with Dembe. Dembe is not and has never been a replacement. He is an addition to our household. He is very much-loved for the dog he is and will become. Anyone who thinks any less of us for this can just fuck off as far as I am concerned, your opinion is of very little value to me.
 
So whilst I took a break from here, I have been setting up Dembe’s blog. I managed to keep writing which out of all the things I do creatively was the only thing that I could keep going. I hadn’t been able to sew since Mollie passed away. I managed on the 16th January after a break of nearly two weeks to sit and do a small piece of embroidery. Mainly to ensure that Dembe wasn’t scared of the noise the machine made. The only thing that has freaked him out so far has been the ironing board and it does the same to me if I am honest.
 
My health has been hit quite hard by the sudden turn of events. I have suffered vertigo, continuous headaches, back spasms, Eczema, migraines and ptosis. As usual it a few days after the event before I started to go down hill. Thankfully with Jay off work we have been able to manage Dembe’s care and socialisation process. To be honest without him I would have crawled into bed and never come out again. This little chap has saved us both. The lady that we are friendly with at the vets ( who had a soft spot for Frankie) called Dembe our miracle dog. She knew how much our lives focused on our dogs and also knew that without a dog in our life we would fall apart. 
 
So many people have told us that we have done exactly the right thing. It doesn’t mean that we loved our Weimaraners any less, it is because we loved them so much that we had all this love to give to another dog. 
 
Dembe has bonded with us both. He is such a happy, laid back dog. His tail wags continuously. Everyone who meets him falls in love with him. I thought at one point after Mollie had passed away that Jay looked like he was going to drop dead from a broken heart. He was just an ashen colour. I have seen Jay poorly many times but this was the worst I had seen him look for a long time. Since Dembe’s arrival he is looking so much better, we both feel like there is a future in front of us. In the immediate aftermath of losing both dogs it felt like we were staring into the abyss .
 
I am hoping that my health stabilises shortly, it is going to have to as Jay goes back to work from Monday 21st and it will just be me and Dembe. However Jay will be coming home at lunch times to help with feeding and toileting. He still has a few weeks until he will be able to go out for a walk. Whilst Jay is home though I am trying to take it as easy as possible. Jay has been doing everything for me as usual.
 
2018 ended in a way that I didn’t see coming and 2019 started in a way we never envisaged. All I can hope for is a quieter year for the rest of 2019.
 

 
 

 
I will never forget the love that these three beautiful loyal dogs gave me. Run free my darlings, we will miss you everyday for the rest of our lives.

The last post of 2018

As we are now rapidly approaching Christmas, just a week away as of writing this post, I have decided that this will be the last post of 2018. A year that I will be particularly happy to get rid of for reasons too numerous to mention. I will be giving myself a little break from blogging and will be back on 10th January 2019 which seems a date massively in the distance but in reality is a mere three weeks from the date this blog post is published.

 I haven’t taken this long of a break for many years but some times we all just need to be in the moment and self-care. I always get incredibly stressed around Christmas, it’s not something I massively enjoy as it’s built up to be this wonderful, magical thing but I actually find it quite a lonely time. Hubby gets very limited time off work and he’s back in the blink of an eye. This may sound a bit baa humbug to some but I am guessing I am not alone in feeling this way about Christmas, as in it promises much and delivers little.

I always get incredibly wound up in the run up to Christmas, I worry things won’t be perfect, all the glossy magazines and TV programmes sell the belief that if you aren’t making absolutely everything from scratch, food, decorations, wreaths etc then you are an abject failure. In the early years of being sick I would work incredibly hard trying to ensure Christmas was picture perfect. I would make the whole Christmas dinner from scratch, I would be utterly miserable and stressed out by the sheer enormity of the task and most of the time I was only cooking for two. When I am stressed I get snappy so the knock on effect was that hubby and I would spend the whole of the Christmas dinner cooking time sniping at each other and taking offence at every word uttered. It was no fun at all. The food was absolutely delicious but was it worth the sleepless nights ( I kid you not ) and the marital discord, no way.

When in 2016 Christmas was approaching and I was suffering from a CSF leak, the stress was even worse. There was no way I could spend 2 to 3 hours upright in the heat of the kitchen without it destroying the rest of the day. The CSf leak meant being upright induced the most horrific head pain that no pain relief would touch. I came to the conclusion that for once Christmas dinner cooked from scratch could take a running jump. There was no way I was destroying my health for the rest of the day for a meal that would take 20 – 30 minutes to consume. It didn’t make any sense to me at all. So hubby bought as much as he could pre-prepared  / frozen and we had just the gravy to make along with the carrots and sprouts. Ok it was never going to win a Michelin star but it was passable and when you are chronically sick or in chronic pain that is all you should be aiming for.

Perfection is a word that is bandied around by all of us but in reality perfection doesn’t exist and we shouldn’t all be wearing ourselves out trying to achieve a marketing concept. If your roast potatoes aren’t cooked in duck / goose fat who gives a shit? If your Yorkshire puddings are Aunt Bessie’s who cares? Who knows unless you tell them and my neighbours certainly won’t be rooting around in my bin trying to discover if I was the perfect hostess or not. The pressure we put upon ourselves to have the perfect Instagrammable Christmas is just silly!

Now the above probably makes me sound like I have my shit together and that I don’t get stressed about Christmas. Nothing could be further from the truth. This year I have just found something else to worry about. Believe me if there is something I can find to wind myself up over I will and do. I just don’t get stressed about Christmas Dinner – well I might a little bit as I have to work out the timings for everything and supervise Mr Myasthenia Kid in the kitchen whilst falling over two dogs who think any food in the kitchen is fair game and only being cooked for their enjoyment.

This year I have gone down a wildly different route for Christmas presents, as in due to my new-found skills I have made the majority of them for family and friends. Initially I felt very smug about the fact that I could utilise my skills this way and wrote out lists of gift ideas and set about working my way through making them. It has proved stressful and quite difficult at times as I have battled this trapped nerve in my neck. The issue this year has been that due to the fact I have made all the gifts or the majority of them, I have panicked that people will think I am cheap.

I have found since I started that people fall into two categories, category one – handmaid equals cheap, therefore you shouldn’t charge a lot of money for any item you make. Basically they want an artisan look for pence rather than the actual cost of producing an item or category two – a basic understanding or full understanding of the price of materials, skills involved and appreciation at the fact you have spent your spare time making them a unique and individual item. It surprises me how many people fall into the first category, when you buy cheap you are exploiting another human being. Maybe that human being lives on the other-side of the world and works for peanuts so that you can have your item at a rock bottom price? If you can live with that, that’s fine.

Because this is the first time for me making gifts I don’t know what category a lot of my friends and family fall into. I don’t know if they will be making snide comments about me being a cheap-skate or if they will like the items I have made. Due to this I have probably over gifted as I don’t want them feeling short-changed. In effect instead of spending an online choosing gifts that they may not want or need or maybe thrown away, I have managed to create days of work for myself ensuring everyone feels special due to the gifts I have made them.

So yet again as you see I have managed to find something to worry about. Thankfully it is just worry and not full-blown anxiety. My anxiety levels have dropped considerably from where they have been the rest of the year, this is my normal level of worry. And to be honest if I had bought gifts I would still be worried about what people thought of them and me . So nothing has changed really.

Thank you to everyone that has read my blog posts over the last ten years, can you believe this little blog has been going on and off for all that time? Thank you to my new readers who joined this year and have provided lovely feed back either as comments on my blog or on various social media platforms.

I’d like to wish those of you who celebrate Christmas a Merry Christmas and to everyone else  happy holidays, happy Yule etc. Just enjoy the time you get to spend with loved ones be they friends or family.

See you in 2019.

Insomnia

I have written about my struggles with insomnia previously, thankfully though its not been something I have struggled with since around 2016 when I was prescribed melatonin and the antidepressant Mirtazapine . Both have improved my sleeping habits immensely. I also take a low dose of amiltriptyline to prevent migraines and again this helps me sleep….until last Sunday night (18th November).

Sunday nights have been a sleeping issue for me as long as I can remember. I think the sleeping problems started over the anxiety of going back to school on the Monday. Throughout my school years I was bullied, so going to school was a cause of anxiety. If ever anyone says to me their school days were the best of their lives I want to punch them in the face. For me they were a source of misery and I never knew who would be gunning for me next. Primary school was particularly awful, comprehensive school was slightly better but I just felt so out of place there having come from a tiny school of less than 400 pupils to then be amongst over 800.

After school I then had the Monday morning work anxiety. I would be ok on Sunday until about 5pm and then I would begin to worry about events that would take place at work during the week. Again I was the target of two bullies unfortunately both were my boss and when one left the business the other one jumped right in and took their place. I loved my job and was good at it but it did absolutely nothing for my mental health.

So now after years of Sunday night anxiety its ingrained in me and I can never sleep or settle down for sleep very easily on a Sunday evening. So when it happened this Sunday I just shrugged my shoulder and thought oh well I’ll sleep Monday. Yet when Monday came around the same thing happened no sleep. I put Mondays lack of sleep down to having bloods being done on Tuesday morning. Its always a drama getting blood out of me. It was it took 2 people three attempts. I’ve got a lovely blown vein on the back of my hand. 

Tuesday was also dramatic as our washing machine broke down, well died to be more accurate. It was about 5 years old and had been a really good machine – washing machines don’t seem to last very long in this house. Probably due to the dogs stuff that fills the waste pipe with sand. I have a Rug bag  which is what horse owners put their horses rugs in to stop all the dirt etc going into the machine – its a bit like a lingerie bag for horses lol! A new machine was ordered and set up for delivery the following day. We can’t be without a machine when we have two elderly dogs who have accidents.

So when I lay tossing and turning last night I presumed I was anxious about the new machine being delivered. I wasn’t remotely anxious I just couldn’t drop off to sleep and if I did drop off I was only staying asleep for ten minutes or so. Today I am exhausted three nights of very little sleep has destroyed me after being used to sleeping again. On all three nights out of desperation I have increased my melatonin, added in an extra amiltriptyline and then last night I toyed with taking my last diazepam which is my emergency pill for either the dentist or when my neck pain is off the charts. I don’t have the doctors until next week  and I will ask about an additional prescription of diazepam as when the neck pain is bad its the only thing that relives it.

Last night well technically this morning I didnt drop off until gone 02.30am , at 7am I received a text message to tell me that our new washing machine would be with us in 20 minutes. So bang went any chance of managing to sleep for a bit longer. Jay has gone back to bed. He can fall asleep pretty much whenever and wherever he wants. I am unable to do that and I am always terrified if I sleep during the day I wont sleep at night. So today I will push through until I can’t go on any longer. My plans of using my embroidery machine have gone out of the window. I am so out of it I’d be a danger to myself holding a pencil let alone using machinery. If I didn’t have a load of things being delivered today I would have crawled back into bed right now, regardless of not being able to sleep tonight.

Insomnia causes my pain levels to increase, my mood to plummet and makes me thoroughly miserable. I hate not sleeping because the knock on effects can last weeks. Its been so long since I have had a run of three nights that I had forgotten how bloody awful insomnia makes me feel. 

Fingers crossed that at some point this week I fall asleep before 2.30am!

Mum

I look back at the time when I used to write two blog posts a week and for the life of me can’t understand how I did it. I know at the time it would take all week to write those two pieces. I hadn’t discovered sewing then and was desperate for something to fill up the long hours of being alone whilst Mr Myasthenia Kid was at work. These days I can struggle to come up with one post a week as I don’t want to be forever moaning about my health but due to the fact I don’t go out socialising and can spend many days where the only person I see is Jay. It can be incredibly hard to find that spark that inspires the next blog post.

 
At the moment I am struggling to sleep or even when I do sleep that it is good quality sleep. I am constantly feeling like I am semi conscious. In the mornings it is taking a few hours for me to become properly awake. I hate it when I am like this as it just feels I have wasted a few hours before I can do anything at all purely because in my semi conscious state I am so clumsy and not fully alert to attempt to do anything at all risks injury. When I am like this I quite often go off into a world of my own, minutes can pass before I realise I have been sat staring into space thinking of nothing in particular, I have just zoned out. Every part of me feels like it is on a go slow whilst I wait for my morning medications to take effect. It also means my pain levels are higher than normal.
 
 
Some of you who follow me on social media will know that life has been extremely stressful of late. I havent gone into massive details on my blog but now I feel is the time to let you know what’s been going on. Back in July my mum went to her doctor’s surgery as she had been experiencing some pain. During the course of an examination the gp discovered a mass on my mums ovary, not a little one a huge mass. Mum was referred to hospital pretty much straight away under the two-week rule ( for those of you unaware of the two-week rule, is that if cancer is suspected you will have tests and see a specialist within 2 weeks. I have been referred twice in the past under the two-week rule when I have discovered lumps in my breasts. Thankfully both times it has been fine.)
 
Before the operation my mum was in a lot of pain, the mass was increasing in size and was now becoming visible externally. Every time mum was examined she ended up in agony. It was a very worrying time for all of us. 
 
On August 13th Mum had a massive surgery, she had decided that although the surgeon had told her that they weren’t 100% sure if the mass was cancerous there was an area that was causing them concern. They would possibly be able to tell her after the surgery if it was cancerous or they may have to wait until the mass had been examined by the pathology lab, that she would have everything that they could remove, removed to give her the best chance. So rather than it being a hysterectomy, she also had her ovaries removed, appendix removed, lymph nodes removed, cervix removed and all abdominal fat removed. This meant that should it be cancer there was nowhere it could hide and grow in. 
 
There were complications during surgery which meant another surgeon had to be called in to assist as mum had bowel adhesions – despite never having an open surgery in the past or even a laparoscopic surgery. She was one of the unlucky 10% of the population that develop adhesions without surgery. It possibly explains why I have developed such bad adhesions, if mum can have them without surgery and I have had around 5 abdominal surgeries.  For those of you who don’t know you can get adhesions anywhere and they are bands of thick fibrous tissue, scar tissue that sticks organs / intestines together. They had to be removed during mum’s surgery so that the cyst / mass could be removed.
 
A standard hysterectomy takes 12 weeks to recover from, due to the extensive nature of mum’s surgery she is looking at a 12 month recovery time. It’s extremely frustrating as a few people have assumed that now that she has had the operation she should be back to full health. Peoples ignorance is really astounding. Mum was cut from just under her sternum to the middle of her pubic bone due to the size of the mass and the need to remove everything possible. 
 
It wasn’t until the middle of September that we found out that Mum had cancer ( now technically the cancer has been removed but medically she will not be classed as cancer free until she hits the 5 year mark.) The cancer she had was very small but also very rare stage 1a grade 2 Endometrioid Ovarian Cancer. The mass removed was a cyst that had wrapped itself around the ovary and the cancer. It was 25cm in length so nearly the size of a rugby ball. Thankfully the cancer was contained and hadn’t spread but mum will be monitored very closely for the next 5 years. Due to the nature of the cancer she can’t have HRT to help with the loss of her ovaries, hormones could help it come back.
 
Obviously for us as a family this rapid turn of events was very shocking. My body gave out on me due to the stress and I ended up in bed quite a bit over the summer. Well that combined with the ridiculous heat. My mum was the very last person who I would have guessed would get cancer. She has been vegetarian since 1973 and went Vegan two years ago. She is a perfect weight for her frame and despite having Coeliacs Atxia was reasonably active. Out of everyone I know she wouldn’t be the one I’d have said was likely to suffer with cancer. I was more likely – overweight, ex smoker not a brilliant diet. My mum really struggled with getting her head around being sick. 
 
She has told me herself ( and I checked before sharing here) that she felt embarrassed at the fact she had cancer, mortified at the fact she was ill. She didn’t want to be seen as weak and vulnerable. She had been extolling the virtues of a vegan diet to anyone who would listen for the last two years, a diet that will reduce your risk of getting cancer and here she was two years in with cancer. It was made very clear to me that this diagnosis was not to be discussed, so other than a few of my closest friends no one knew what was going on. If anyone asked I would just say I was stressed due to life stuff. 
 
It’s only in the last week that she has posted on her own Facebook page that she has had a cancerous mass removed. So after discussing it with her this morning to check it was ok I can finally tell you all what has been going on.
 
It’s why I have been having trouble sleeping, pain issues, more migraines, vertigo etc. It made me feel utterly useless. I wanted to be able to support my mum but I feel like my body betrayed me. However it’s been really lovely that I have spent quite a bit of time with her one on one. As many of you know I live an hour away from my parents and a lot of the time I am not well enough to travel. My parents have a caravan around 10 minutes drive away from where I live, so whilst my dad walks his dog on the beach mum comes to my house and we have a catch up for about 90 minutes. I have thoroughly enjoyed spending the time with her.
 
And some of you may have put two and two together and worked out why I made my mum the very special lap quilt for her birthday this year.
 
 
 
 
 
She is doing really well. Every time I see her she looks so much better than she did the last time. She is doing really well. Fingers crossed that we sail through the next 5 years with no issues.