2. Eastbourne, West Sussex
2. Game of Thrones
3. The Walking Dead
4. Movies, especially good thrillers
2. Eastbourne, West Sussex
2. Game of Thrones
3. The Walking Dead
4. Movies, especially good thrillers
I was trying to find a theme or quote that represented what 2017 has meant for me to use as a starting point, but nothing seemed quite the right thing. I know New Years Eve tends to bring us bloggers out of the woodwork, I think it’s the creative urge to somehow capture where we’ve been, and perhaps plot where we want to go. Combined with the creative muse that won’t let us know what the next sentence is until we write it.
My year has above all been a catalyst for change, and wending through it has been a series of lessons I hope I’ve learned from. I think I’m a better person than I was twelve months ago, and I hope in twelve months time I can say the same again and mean it as fully as I do now. There’s a lovely aboriginal proverb that says “”We are all visitors to this time, this place. We are just passing through. Our purpose here is to observe, to learn, to grow, to love… And then we return home.”
I have, with the support of some wonderful people, finally discovered the real Joy of Now. Not the superficial trimmings of mindfulness that is pushed by mainstream media, but the real living in the moment stuff. It’s mind altering. Life changing. And it’s so amazing! But I wouldn’t have been ready for this had it happened earlier in my life, I firmly believe that we have to become open and ready to welcome in the new and let go of the old, and do this with with self love and self compassion. Even when it’s as challenging as f*ck. Which it often is.
So how did I get here? I am forever grateful to Demi Schneider my wonderful therapist, who helped me become ready to open these doors almost two years ago now by teaching me how to love myself fully. To Ruby Wax whose fabulous book “A Mindfulness Guide for the Frazzled” gave my logical brain the understanding it needed of what was going on in my head and how to start rewiring those neural pathways. To the wonderful Calm app which helped me start meditating and sleeping again. To the beautiful Essia for leading me to The Now Project. And to Adrian from the Now Project who held my hand (literally & metaphorically) through one of the darkest hours of my life. And to the whole Now Project Team for just being here.
Does that give you a glimpse of how it all fits? How what seems random and disparate is beautifully interconnected. The Universe guides us to where we need to be even when we have no clue what we need. We can’t rush it, things will happen when they are supposed to. All we need do is live, right now.
For those that don’t know I was diagnosed with a serious lung condition in June, which at the time was believed to be terminal. It wasn’t a shock to me as I’d been expecting it for months, but even so it was definitely one of life’s “oh shit” moments. Thankfully I already had mindfulness and meditation in my life, without either I know I would have spiralled back into severe depression.
And here’s where synchronicity comes in. I attended my first retreat with the Now Project the day after I had this news. (See, I did have a point!) That evening during our informal meet and greet we were asked what we hoped to get from this weekend. As I listened to the others share a voice in my head (mine, of course) suddenly shouted “Nothing, I’m going to die, you can’t help me” In that moment everyone and everything else seemed trivial. Knowing I was about to either sob or scream I quietly left the room.
I went outside and sat under a beautiful willow, looking over the fields in front of the house. And I sobbed my heart out. Until gradually I realised I was watching the midges dance in the twilight. Above them Swifts circled and dove, catching their evening supper. And I found a measure of peace, my feet bare against the grass, grounded in nature.
Of course when someone came to see if I was okay I melted again. And Adrian, a complete stranger to me, sat with me for nearly an hour. Holding my hands. Bringing me back to my breath continually. And that is when I finally understood that we only ever have Now. None of us are guaranteed tomorrow. Nothing else is real. Catalyst.
I’m incredibly grateful to say that further testing has (at least for now) ruled out any significant impact on my life expectancy. I have Interstitial Lung Disease caused by RA, which in turn causes a lot of breathing issues, but they are manageable by moving slowly. I’ve also been formally diagnosed with ME this year, so fatigue impacts my pace too. And that helps me continue to live in the moment.
So in simple terms facing my own mortality brought me deep joy. I know I’m not the first or last to say this. And others will walk different paths. The one thing we’ll have in common is that realisation of just how essential it is to live Now. Not today or next week or next year – they don’t exist. When we combine that with real love for ourselves exactly as we are we become invincible. Even death holds no fear because it’s just another step towards enlightenment.
It’s quarter to midnight on New Years Eve 2017, the moon is bright and full. I have candles burning gently and the enchanting music of Deva Prema playing in the background. All is well right Now.
Wishing you all a blessed 2018.
I sort of feel I should start by apologising for being so quiet recently, especially with blogging, but the spoons have been really low for a couple of months. I feel the balance is tipping towards more ‘bad’ days than ‘good’. I dislike using those terms as they feel like I’m judging, I’ve hit the trusty thesaurus, how do dormant days and wakeful days sound?
The definition of dormant seems particularly apt – adjective: dormant (of an animal) having normal physical functions suspended or slowed down for a period of time; in or as if in a deep sleep
That accurately sums up about 40% of my time. Maybe more. At the moment I feel like I’ve hit a medical stalemate – another great word – any position or situation in which no action can be taken or progress made.
I saw my GP (who is fab) on Friday, we ran through a few symptoms where her answers were, not unreasonably, that there’s nothing that can be done. Of course if a,b, or c get worse let her know, if not do my best to continue to live around them. She has the option to refer me back into the hospital Fatigue Management team so to keep that in mind for the future.
FYI I’m not being ignored, I have ongoing support from Thoracic (lungs), Rheumatology (joints & lungs), and Orthopaedics (spinal surgery, sciatica) as well as my GP.
But none of these stop me doing this. Sleeping for 16, 18, 20 hours at a time. I track my sleep now because I’m not sure people believe me, but I’m genuinely out for the count, I don’t wake to pee, drink or eat, and a bomb could go off without me stirring. Usually after a sleep like this I wake but can barely move, it takes everything I have to stay upright just to make a coffee and maybe toast. It’s like the worst flu feeling quadrupled. I literally stagger to the kitchen and back, almost on my knees.
And every time within two hours I’m passing out again. I use passing out deliberately because that’s exactly what it feels like, it’s almost as if I can feel my body shutting down, to quote the Borg “resistance is futile”. I spend approx two to three days a week like this.
To be clear here I’ve been diagnosed with RA, Fibromyalgia, ME/CFS, and RA-ILD (Interstitial Lung Disease). All of which will be contributing to this dreadful fatigue, though my suspicion is this is much more ME than the others. I’ve attended pain management sessions and fatigue management sessions which mostly revolve around pacing and CBT. Unfortunately as anyone with ME knows the use of CBT as a tool to improve fatigue has been totally discredited. And pacing just doesn’t work.
Pacing is actually a very simple technique. One monitors one’s activity and fatigue levels for a few weeks on a chart, then you calculate an energy ‘baseline’. So let’s say the average day allows you three hours of low activity. You plan around this and you slowly work on building up. Sadly this model assumes a number of modes of behaviour are manageble for the patient – such as getting up at the same time every day, sleeping for the requisite number of hours per night, ceasing to nap during the day, and that after sleep one feels refreshed.
None of this applies in my case. When I mentioned to the fatigue team that I can spend two or three days a week sleeping (dormant) they told me this “wasn’t usual” for ME. I thank the stars for the Internet, there is a lively community online who very quickly taught me I’m not alone, and I’m definitely not an aberration. In fact I’m fortunate, there are people with ME who’ve not left their beds for years.
I can sleep four hours or twenty, I never wake feeling refreshed. I can’t choose to not nap when I can be awake and say, reading one minute and the next it’s six hours later. Yes, my internal nap monitor is screwed too, it’s never just twenty minutes! I can’t work to a normal “sleep pattern”, when I’m dormant I not only sleep through alarms, I’ve slept through my cleaner coming and going, and a few weeks ago just crashed on the sofa whilst a friend was building me a walk in closet, thankfully he understood as his mum has ME so he finished quietly and tiptoed away. Bless him.
But I think these examples clearly show this is not down to me giving in or not trying. I don’t see anywhere to go from here clinically. So my only realistic option is to continue to flex and enjoy my Awake around my Dormant.
Yes this makes planning difficult. There are hospital appointments I’ve had to reschedule, blood tests I’ve missed. More important to my sense of engagement with life is the birthdays, the weddings, the lunches and the family events I’ve missed. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt guilty for these, I know now I have to listen to my body, but it still saddens me to have to cancel.
Is this difficult to live with? Yes of course, saying otherwise would be disingenuous. I think anyone faced with the reality of losing maybe three or four days a week, every week, for the rest of their life would be floored. I think the blessing here for me is that this hasn’t been a sudden notification, it’s happened gradually over the past few years and whilst I’ve railed and wept I’ve also become accustomed to these limitations being my life.
It’s just that this conversation on Friday finally drove home that this is here to stay. There is no magic pill or potion, therapy or faith that will make this change. Stalemate.
And so comes acceptance. So I will continue to try to see my dormant days as necessary recharging, to allow my wakeful days to happen. I will continue to try every day to find both gratitude and joy in my world. I will continue to use my toolbox containing items as random as meditation and tramadol, heating pads, mindfulness and antidepressants. And I will continue to find my joy in the smallest and often unlikeliest of places. Eyes wide open.
Firstly my apologies for sneaking in a wildcard at the end of RA Blog Week, but I’ve been suffering badly with fatigue which is unfortunately not conducive to blogging!
It’s been a long year already, and it’s left me a little tired. Let me take you back almost 12 months….
October 1st last year I started coughing. An irritating dry cough that was constantly annoying. By the beginning of December my GP ordered a chest xray ‘just to cover all bases’ and prescribed a steroid inhaler to help with the cough, which we thought might be Bronchitis.
Around Xmas I started getting breathless on exertion, and over the next few weeks this got worse. My xray came back showing ‘some scarring’. I’ll cut a long story a little shorter here but over the next few months I had a number of attempts at spirometry tests which failed as I coughed too much, though they did indicate a restrictive breathing pattern. At this point I was referred into the hospital, and after more detailed HRCT scans, Fleuroscopy, a bout of pneumonia and extensive lung function tests it became apparent that the RA has attacked my lungs.
In the last meeting with my thoracic consultant I got to see the scans, including a short “video” of my lungs breathing. It’s fascinating to see, you know me and wanting the fine detail! What it’s also shown is that on top of the lung damage – which is very likely from the RA – my right hemidiagphram is significantly elevated, though still thankfully working. The diaphragm is essentially the muscle that moves your lungs when your brain says breathe.
I’m saying it looks like RA damage because the jury is still out, there’s still a small chance it could be pulmonary fibrosis and not interstitial lung disease – further tests will keep an eye on progression of the lung damage and help identify the cause.
But essentially parts of my lungs have become inflamed, and then hardened, reducing my lung capacity and making it harder to breathe. On top of that the raised hemidiagphram is squashing the bottom of my right lung which just increases the breathlessness. We don’t know why that’s elevated so investigation is needed there too.
There is no fix, no cure. Lung tissue can’t be repaired. At the moment my consultant doesn’t feel this will significantly shorten my life, but we all know life don’t come with guarantees. I’m not being negative here, just sharing the facts as they’ve been put to me.
Unfortunately whether I live another four years or forty, I will have to live with this constant breathlessness. It was particularly difficult the first few days here in Cyprus as my lungs struggled with the hot air, making breathing incredibly hard even on mild exertion. This has now eased somewhat, hopefully in part due to the new inhaler I’m on.
But daily life has become that much harder. What makes me breathless? Making a coffee. Having a shower. Getting dressed. Turning over in bed. Walking short distances on crutches. Cooking. Basically everything. I’m also increasingly tired, probably due to low oxygen saturation levels which are being monitored, but on top of ME/CFS this has been a big drain on my already limited energy. I’m slowly learning to take pacing activity to the nth degree, quite literally tiny baby steps.
There have been moments when this has been very scary, but I’ve come to realise it’s almost like starting over again with a new chronic illness. Except this time I’m better prepared. I don’t need to slog through the ups and downs of adjusting mentally because I’ve been there. I’m certainly not willing to allow – or even in a place where – this can knock me down.
So, both mentally and physically I take those baby steps forward. I still meditate regularly, practice mindfulness and gratitude daily and these help keep me sane (ish!). In all seriousness without these I’d have been floored by yet another chronic health issue, but living in the now definitely reduces stress reactions. I’ve had my moments believe me, but they’ve been mostly manageable.
I think it’s important to remember that as with my first diagnosis of RA, this isn’t an end but the start of a new, slightly tougher path. And with the support of some amazing friends and family I can learn to live with this too.
Please remember as always nothing on my page is intended as medical advice and any errors are my own!