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Awareness, chronic illness, chronic pain, Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, health, Rare Diseases, spoonies

To the Doctors That Failed Me and to the Ones That Saved Me

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Dear Doctors,

I came to you as a scared, vulnerable teenager. I was in pain and tired all the damn time.

“You’re depressed”, you said.

I walked out with a script for antidepressants. I hoped this would fix everything.

No such luck. I am a zombie. I didn’t care about anything. My friends are scared for me.

Months later I return with the same complaint. My joints hurt. I’m still tired. A new symptom arose. Chest pain.

“You’re stressed”, you said.

“I don’t feel stressed”, I responded.

“Subconscious stress,” you said.

I walk out with another script for a different antidepressant and sleeping pills.

This goes on for years.

It’s all in my head, you said. That the “physical symptoms were a manifestation of something psychological”.

Those words made me genuinely depressed. I wasn’t being listened to. The weight piled on, intensifying my depression. I didn’t feel like this body was mine.

You didn’t listen.

I became pregnant and things escalated.

“It’s just the pregnancy”, you said.

I moved clinics to find a doctor who would really listen to me.

Once again, I explain the pain, the fatigue, the stomach issues, the dizziness, my heart racing and pounding in my chest.

I came to you as a scared, vulnerable mother. I was in pain and tired all the damn time.

“You’re depressed”, you said.

I walk out with yet another script for another antidepressant. The fifth medication of its type that I’ve tried.

I am in too much pain and too tired to function. I can’t muster the energy to get dressed. My friends and family don’t understand. Being judged for being in my pajamas all day. I am just lazy.

I think:

“If this is all in my head, and nothing is working, what is the point in living?”

There were days I looked at my pills and thought that if I took them all, that the pain would end, that I would be free and I would no longer be a burden on my family.

I fight the urge and win.

Three years later, while just about managing an internship, I interview a woman with Ehlers Danlos Syndrome. Her story sticks with me. The doctors didn’t believe her either. Nor were they willing to help.

A year later I speak to this woman again. We get to talking about my issues.

She asks one thing that changed my life forever.

“Are you hypermobile?”, she asks.

“No”, I say.

“I’m stiff as a board!”, I exclaim.

Turns out I am. Very hypermobile. I score 8/9 on the Beighton scale.

The woman gives me the same of a doctor to see. I decided to see what you, my doctors thought.

“Could it be Ehlers Danlos Syndrome?”, I ask.

“Oh God, no! That’s as rare as hen’s teeth,” you say.

I leave, defeated.

One November day, I faint at home. That’s it. I need answers.

I go to see the recommended doctor. My stomach is in knots. That’s normal before I go and see doctors of any type now. I prepare myself to be told the same old thing. That I was depressed, I was anxious, that it was all in my head.

I am examined, I am spoken to with respect, I do not feel like a neurotic child.

“No wonder you have been depressed. Nobody was listening to you”, he says.

Just as I thought; I was diagnosed with Ehlers Danlos Syndrome.

For the first time in my life, a doctor really listened, like no other doctors had done before.

Tears stream down my freckled cheeks with relief.

I walk out, cigarette in my hand, shaking with relief and with disbelief.

Finally! I was listened to. Finally, I have my answers.

A letter is sent to you, confirming my suspicions.

Nothing changes though, I suspect you don’t believe the diagnosis.

I never took another antidepressant after that day.

It was all over, or so I thought.

Then I soon realised, the diagnosis meant nothing without someone to help.

And here I am, six years later. I am bouncing from consultant to consultant. Medicated up to my eyeballs. No real investigations are done and some tests are simply not available in my own country.

Doctors often tell patients it is all in their head. Telling someone this can be as lethal as a bullet.

To England, I go with family in tow. My two children now facing the same life of disbelief and pain.

But things are different here.

I meet you, dear doctor, for the first time.

You are small and sweet. You’re gentle and kind.

I feel safe with you. You are thorough.

I had no choice but to travel and spend money we did not have, but I am glad I did.

You really listened and didn’t brush me or my feelings aside.

So many from my country have been here before. Desperate for help.

A world expert’s diagnosis, that will shut the rest of them up.

And it did. No more questioning on whether this was the real diagnosis.

I had wondered myself if the diagnosis was correct because all the others, these “experts” made me feel that way.

I return home. The rain pours as we land. It matches my mood.

I am coming back to a country that does not care about my well-being or my children’s.

I jump to another doctor after another again. And again, questions the diagnosis. I am so sick of doctors at this point. But, this next one is different.

You really seem to care.

There is no rush, you have taken the time to listen.

You follow my lead, you let me take the reins on my treatment.

I almost jumped for joy leaving the doctor’s office. I could not believe my luck.

You seemed determined to help.

My pain worsens. I am a ball of tears every time I see you now because I am at the end of my tether. Other doctors want to try these expensive treatments that may not work. They haven’t worked before. I just want relief from the pain.

I just wanted you to tell me you’ll help.

Yet I walk out with a script for antidepressants-again.

The memories flood back, of not being believed. I am now a nervous wreck going to any doctor again.

I take the first pill. It begins again.

I can’t get out of bed, I am more tired than ever.

Zombified again.

Sleeping for three days after taking one of those tiny pills so I don’t take anymore.

I return to you, scared because the pain is as bad as it’s ever been.

Feeling like the tin man, I just need some oil to move with ease.

“Anti-inflammatories will help”, you say.

I take the script, skeptical.

It’s still early days but I just know this isn’t going to work.

Something is very wrong with me.

I can’t keep fighting for help, doctor. I am already too tired.

Is it so much to ask to just want to be normal? To be like my friends.

There is only so much I can do on my own.

I am trying, really, I am to be normal.

Distracting myself with things that I can do.

I just want help with the things I can’t manage alone.

Is not living in pain too much to ask for?

Sincerely,

Someone who just needs help.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Awareness, Breastfeeding, children, chronic illness, chronic pain, disabiliy, Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, family, health, parenting, Rare Diseases, relationships, spoonies

The fault in our genes and the guilt that goes with it

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When you’re child is seriously hurt you can feel so helpless. You might feel guilty for not having a sharp eye on your little one when they injure themselves. If you have a faulty genes and a genetic condition that you’ve passed on to your child, there’s an added guilt.

Last Saturday two year old Ollie Pops N’ Clicks was playing happily with her Dad. We had a lovely day up till then, hubby and I were celebrating our five-year wedding anniversary. My Dad cooked us a beautiful lamb dinner and after we retired into the sitting room in front of the stove. Despite having a pain flare, I was content. That is until Ollie started screaming.

She was pulling on her Daddy’s clothes and then all of a sudden her arm was hurting. Nobody could touch it and if we tried to move it she cried. Hubby knew immediately that we were faced with something that happened in 2015. Ollie was just seven months old then. Her elbow was dislocated. She was behaving the same way she did that cold night in November of 2015.

Ollie 7 months
Ollie the morning after she dislocated her elbow the first time

So, we had to leave Bendy Boy with his Granddad for the night as we sped up to the Accident and Emergency Department (A&E) of the University Hospital. She fell asleep before we even made it out of town. I thought maybe she was OK now but when I touched her arm she woke up screaming.

What is a 45-minute journey felt like hours. We arrived into A&E and we were surprised to see how quiet it was for a Saturday evening. Then again, it was still pretty early. The drunks and those involved in fights wouldn’t be in for another few hours yet.

At the hospital

After we checked in, we sat in the waiting area. Looking around I saw a teenager with their arms in a sling, an old man with bandages around his head and another man with a black eye. I was worried that this scene would upset my already frightened two year old. You could tell exactly what was wrong with these people. All you could see when you looked at Ollie was a little girl with a sourpuss face protecting her little arm.

Just like before, the Triage nurse saw us fairly quickly, when we explained what we think had happened and that I have Ehlers Danlos Syndrome. This is a result of my faulty collagen genes. We were taken into the ward.

The last time Ollie was seen in A&E at just seven months old, she had to have an X-Ray. It was torture for us both. I had to move her tiny little arm around in different positions. She cried, I cried. This time however, there was no need to X-Ray because of her history.

When I told the on call doctor that I had EDS, he asked could he have a look at my hands. He bent my fingers back and pulled on my skin. He nodded and turned to little Ollie who was finishing off her second ever dose of painkillers. In two years she’s never been ill enough to need any type of medication. The only time she’s had Calpol is the first time she dislocated her elbow.

Like a punch to the stomach

me and kids
You do what you can to protect them

Anyway, he attempted to take Ollie’s hand but she was petrified. He did eventually manage to get it and within seconds. He confirmed it was dislocated and he said it’s pretty safe to say that my beautiful daughter has EDS. She has inherited my faulty genes. It was like a punch to the stomach.

We knew this since pregnancy but every time I hear a doctor say it again, the guilt gets to me. Ollie is not officially diagnosed with EDS. We hope to rectify that soon just in case social services do get involved during a future trip to A&E.

Like nothing ever happened

Within forty minutes of arriving at A&E we were out the door. Ollie was back to her old self again and I’m pretty sure she was on a sugar buzz after that medicine. She kept talking about how the doctor fixed her and that she was all better now. We arrived home and the three of us sat on the couch to unwind after a stressful couple of hours.

Ollie climbed on me and fed until she was ready for sleep. She then sat up and threw herself on to the couch. I watched her sleep for awhile. She looked so peaceful and you’d have never had known she was in agony just an hour before. We carried her into her new room and didn’t see her till morning. It really is amazing how resilient kids are and that does make it a lot easier to live with a condition like EDS.

Ollie after hospital
Like nothing happened

I know I cannot control my genetics and that I shouldn’t blame myself for Bendy Boy’s diagnosis and Ollie’s inevitable diagnosis. But, I can’t help it; this illness comes from me. If Ollie is dislocating this early on in life it doesn’t bare thinking what will happen, as she gets older.

What does the future hold?

When she starts playschool, when she’s old enough to play outside with friends, when she climbs a tree for the first time. Then there’s puberty. The majority of girls with EDS experience an increase in symptoms when they reach puberty. This is because the hormone, progesterone wreaks havoc on our bodies. Progesterone makes us lax. It’s why girls and women suffer more during their periods and in pregnancy.

How many more times is she going to be in hospital with an injury? Is she ever going to work or have a normal life? These questions whiz around my head. I try to say to myself what I would say to anybody in this situation; cross that bridge when you come to it.

Overcoming the guilt of faulty genes

But, I will eventually overcome this guilt. How? Because I know I am the best person to get my children through what they will face later down the line. I know what they need, who they need to see and where I can take them to make all this happen. The fight for access for appropriate medical care of which there is none in this country will be my biggest challenge. I will take them to the doctor or hospital as many times as they need and I will do it with empathy.

They will be believed when they tell me they are in pain, because I know what it’s like not to be believed. Not being believed by my parents, by friends and by doctors affected me greatly and I still carry that pain around with me. That pain can be just as great as the physical pain my genes have caused me. An old friend once said that she would rather face a pack of rabid Rottweiler than a parent who wants to protect and fight for their children. If you mess with my kids and their health, I’ll go through you for a shortcut.

Be your child’s champion

The Fault in our genes

Having EDS myself makes me the best advocate for my children. Any patient with a rare disease becomes his or her own expert. I will now be the expert for my children too. From how their genes work to the treatment they need, I will be their champion.

It is a great comfort knowing that they will always have each other to lean on for support. Even when I am not there anymore to fight for them, they can fight together.

So, for anyone out there who is feeling guilty for passing on their crappy genes, know this; it is not your fault. I know more than anybody that it’s hard not to. Take a leaf out of my book; take that guilt and turn it into something positive. Raise awareness of the condition, fight for proper treatment, do everything in your power to make your child’s experience with their condition better than what you experienced.

Until next time,

Z.M

x

 

 

children, chronic illness, chronic pain, disabiliy, health, parenting, spoonies

You know you’re a mom with a chronic illness when

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Being a mom is hard. Really freakin’ hard. You have sleepless nights that go on for years. Then there are snots, wee, poo, endless requests, and endless questions. Stresses of school, work, childminding, and meal prep grind you down. I could go on and on. Now, imagine being a mom with all of these stresses and then add a chronic illness into the mix. For the most part, it makes no difference to your kids if it’s all they know. You can be the mom who spends all day resting on the couch or in bed for hours and your kids will still think you’re awesome. [pullquote]You can be the mom who spends all day resting on the couch or in bed for hours and your kids will still think you’re awesome. [/pullquote]Well, my kids do and I would consider myself a pretty mediocre mother. But I’m often told I’m too hard on myself.

I do cut corners-daily. I’m disorganised. I put things off. I loose my shit regularly. My chronic illnesses are a mix of physical and mental ailments. EDS, POTS, Autonomic Mediated Syncope, anxiety and depression all plague me. Sometimes separately but most of the time they join to create a storm of symptoms.

While most mothers will make a home cooked meal, I depend on my air fryer to cook quick and convenient food. Once a month I do manage something home cooked and special like my Crispy Chinese Pork or my Lemon Chicken Pasta. But for the most part the kids live on chicken or fish goujons or chicken and pesto pasta. Daddy does the majority of the cooking but with a budding business and all the other household chores, he simply doesn’t have the time or the energy to be making food from scratch.

“Why don’t you do meal prep and freeze?” I hear you say. Yep, I get these notions all the time. But then fatigue plagues me or my wrist pops out of place from chopping. In a town of 5,000 people, we have approximately 12 take aways. Wouldn’t it be great if there were a meal on wheels service for those with chronic illness? Or wouldn’t it be great if the village mentality still existed where the whole community helps out those who are struggling? Wouldn’t it be great if we were provided with balanced dishes that tasted just as tasty as a burger and fries from the local chipper? There’s a business idea right there.

In my mind, I’m supermom. I come up with all these Bree Van de Camp type ideas like cooking breakfast muffins or making clothes for the children. In reality, I’m lucky to get dressed and put my make up on once a week. Most people don’t have to decide on whether to wash and dress themselves or feed their children. Most people don’t have to decide whether to cook a decent meal or to stay awake long enough to make sure the children don’t kill themselves.

I’m not a “fed is best” advocate, far from it. I truly believe what we feed our children is of the utmost importance. The science shows that what we feed our children in infancy and childhood directly affects their long-term health and eating habits as they grow into adulthood. I know we could make better choices and soon I hope to collaborate with some foodies to offer some recipes that are suitable for the whole family and that are “spoonie” friendly for parents.

So now I have had that little rant off my chest, it’s time to make things a little lighter. Here are some of the signs of being a mom with a chronic illness.

You know you're a chronic illness mom when.

You spend a good portion of your day in pyjamas

It’s probable that you own more pairs of pyjamas than actual clothes. You figure, I don’t need to go anywhere today so what’s the point in spending spoons on getting washed and dressed. But, when you do get washed, dressed and put make up on your good days, you feel more human. Sure you might be exhausted from prepping yourself for the outside world but it does wonders for your mental health.

You get takeout more than you should

Sometimes when you literally can’t move during a flare up, you can’t get up to pee, never mind having to stand at the kitchen counter and then dealing with the heat of the cooker.  But when you manage to make a delicious home cooked meal, you feel like Gordon Ramsay (minus the constant swearing…mostly).

Your kids get full meals while you live on crackers and coffee

You do your best to nourish your kids. You’d rather spend your spoons on making sure they are well fed. You get so nauseous or fatigued that the last thing you want to do is eat. So you when you are feeling peckish you’ll grab the first thing that comes out of the fridge or cupboard. It’s taken me years to figure out how to eat healthier snacks that have some form of nutrients. I do like crackers on days that I’m nauseous so I buy pre hummus for some protein. A pre-made salad or a handful of nuts are a light handy snack that will give you the boost to look after your munchkins.

You say yes to your kids even when you shouldn’t just to have some peace and quiet

Saying yes when you should to all sorts of things that you know you shouldn’t. You just want them to be quiet for five minutes. We simply don’t have the energy to argue when we are in pain or fatigued. Don’t beat yourself up when you say yes to that extra packet of crisps or chocolate.

You say “not today” frequently

We say yes to the things we shouldn’t and no to the things we should. You would love nothing more than to take the kids out or let them have a play date in your house. The guilt is real. You want to give your kids all that they desire but sometimes it’s better to save your spoons for a day you feel better.  Then you can all enjoy yourselves. There will be a day you can yes to that playdate or day trip. Rest up today for what you want to do tomorrow.

You manage to wash and dress the kids while you look like you’ve been dragged through a bush backwards

Your kids are dressed beautifully with shiny teeth and brushed hair almost every day. They could pose on the cover of a shopping catalogue. You on the other hand, you look so dishevelled that you could easily pass for someone who’s just found her way to civilisation after being lost in the woods somewhere. If I need to look presentable while still feeling comfortable I put on my sports bra (cause under wired bras are the devil) and a jersey cotton jumpsuit like this one from Boohoo. I feel super comfy but I look super chic. Plus jumpsuits are a great time saver-no need to pair up tops and bottoms. Jersey cotton is a chronic illness sufferer’s best friend.

Chronic Illness mother with glasses and messy hair
The disheveled look is so in right now Credit: Adobe Stock

TV is your best friend

You’ve probably watched everything there is to watch on Netflix. When the kids are at school and you’ve managed to one productive thing that morning, you find yourself in need of a rest. If you’re anything like me; reading a book during the day will simply not do. Two pages and I’m out like a light. TV is always there for you-no matter what. You can be transported to another place and forget, just for 30 minutes, that you’re on the couch involuntarily. [pullquote]TV is always there for you-no matter what. You can be transported to another place and forget, just for 30 minutes, that you’re on the couch involuntarily. [/pullquote]As soon as you’re diagnosed with a chronic illness you should automatically have a free subscription to Netflix. Netflix and chill and pills for us! Oh my!

The Internet is your social life

Going out for coffee, going for drinks with the girls is a rarity. People used to come by to have a cup of tea and a chat but they’ve stopped coming. Since you’ve been diagnosed with a chronic illness, lots of things have changed. So social media becomes your social life. You can connect with others in the exact same situation with just a couple of clicks. [pullquote]Even though you may have not met these people in real life, you feel super close to them because they know exactly what it’s like for you. [/pullquote]We do have the tendency to get lost in social media though. I noticed this about myself recently so I signed up for a creative writing class. It’s just 2 hours, one night a week. Nothing to heavy and I find writing a good therapy. With so much life experience, I’ll have a lot of inspiration to draw from.

With chronic illness, the housework is a constant stress

You would love nothing more than to move ever piece of furniture out of the way and get cleaning the collection of food, dust and small toys. The pile of laundry is giving Everest a run for it’s money and no matter how hard you try, you just can’t keep up. Sometimes you wonder if you’ll end up on an episode of Hoarders. But, in reality, your house is probably not as bad as you think. In fact, you could probably walk into almost any family home and see the same messes. If you do feel overwhelmed, check out my blog about household products that can help you manage your household with a chronic illness.

When you do manage to get to the bottom of the laundry basket you’re not a domestic Goddess, you’re a domestic badass. Celebrate with cake and a rest. That’s an order!

Chronic illness mother holding an iron
You are a domestic bad ass Credit: Abobe Stock

When you achieve something you feel like a total rock star

You’ve woken up and it’s one of those rare days you feel semi human. You do a few loads of washing; you get dressed and even put on a bit of make up. Then you prep dinner while the kids are at school. It’s all done from scratch and smells amazing. Even organising your meds is a huge achievement for you. Whatever you managed to do today, it’s an achievement and needs to be celebrated. [pullquote]Simply getting up out of bed and leaving the house for a cup of coffee with friends is something to be proud of. Those days can be few and far between so when it happens, you appreciate so much more.[/pullquote]

Maybe you have a chronic illness but manage to live normally, that doesn’t mean you are not struggling. It is so important not to compare yourself to others. I personally don’t believe in thinking I’m sicker than anyone else. Everyone’s illness is his or her own. We all handle things differently. A lot of the time, fear of pain and fatigue and of course mental illness as a result of the physical illness can hold us back. No two stories are exactly alike.

So celebrate your achievements no matter how small they may be. Try not to dwell on all the things you couldn’t get to do today. Focus on what you did manage to do, even if it was “just” getting dressed.

Until next time,

Z.M

 

Awareness, chronic illness, chronic pain, dysautonomia, Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, family, Friday Feelings, health, spoonies

Friday Feelings with The Zebra Mom

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Hey there, hi there, ho there,

This week I didn’t have any guest post submitted so, I decided to do a Friday Feelings post myself.

Usually I explain what my guests suffer from and a they tell us a little about themselves but I’m sure anyone who follows my blog is well aware of my conditions and the things I am passionate about. I will take the oppurtunity to plug my social medias though :p You can find me on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Instagram and Snapchat (see the snap code in the header)

evie blog

So we will just dive straight into this week’s Friday Feelings post

 

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“Dear Diary,

It’s Friday and for once, I’ve had an excellent night’s sleep and I’m feeling relatively OK. Usually I wake with something wrong but luckily, I have no more pain that the usual aches. I am so happy that I’m feeling well as can be since I am celebrating my 30th birthday tonight with family and friends. It is not often I get to socialise and get dressed up so when it does happen I appreciate it so much. I’ll probably run low on spoons after I finish getting myself ready but I am hoping the adrenaline will kick in and help me enjoy my night. I also have to be weary of certain lighting in pubs as my sensory issues can cause havoc when I do get the chance to go out. My typical Friday nights are usually much more boring. I sit at home and spend my time watching the Gilmore Girls or socialise on Facebook.

Even though I feel OK right now the last few weeks my EDS and Dysautonomia has been acting up a good bit forcing me to use my wheelchair. I hate using it, it makes me feel very self-conscious but I know I would be much worse off if I didn’t use it. Yesterday we went into the city to take our little boy shopping for new party clothes and if I didn’t have my chair, I wouldn’t have been able to enjoy our time. It’s a frustrating time for us at the moment as we are currently fundraising to get back to London for treatment. This 5-night trip is costing us 5,000 Euro. Luckily I have some really good friends and family who helped us raise 765 Euro a couple of days ago at our coffee morning. We couldn’t believe that that amount was raised in just a couple of hours! The community really came together to support us. I was truly blown away.

The future is uncertain but I am hopeful that getting treatment in London will give the children and me a fighting chance at some normality. I am having Autonomic tests in London to find out exactly which type of Dysautonomia I have. Here in Ireland I have been diagnosed with Orthostatic Intolerance and Vasovagal Syncope but the experts in London believe I have Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (PoTS). They believe Alexander also has PoTS but luckily he isn’t greatly affected. I also see symptoms in Olivia too.

I think as time goes on, people are understanding our conditions better and know that they are invisible illnesses and that some days I need my wheelchair and some days I don’t. I think the fact that we have had to go to the UK and fundraise thousands made people realise the severity of our conditions. It’s a shame that it has had to come down to this but I am content that those nearest and dearest to us take things seriously. I have had negative experiences with the way people has viewed EDS before. One doctor said that people with EDS didn’t suffer from chronic pain (I know, I know) and that I more likely had Fibromyalgia. Now, many experts do believe that most people diagnosed with Fibro have actually been misdiagnosed and that they actually have some form of Connective Tissue Disorder. I told her this and she was most unimpressed to be challenged. Pregnant and wheelchair bound, I left that appointment in tears in pure anger and frustration. A Rheumatologist diagnosed me with hEDS at that point but I saw another one to confirm the diagnosis because I felt the private consultant’s diagnosis wasn’t being taken seriously. I had the diagnosis confirmed by two experts in London so I am pretty confident hEDS is the right fit but I am going to have genetic testing just to be sure as I do fit a couple of the types of EDS too. I think anyone diagnosed with hEDS should have genetic testing to rule out other types and other Connective Tissue Disorders. If the tests come back clear, I’ll be happy sticking with the hEDS diagnosis.

Anyway, better start getting ready for my hair appointment and party. Wish me luck that my EDS or Dysautonomia doesn’t kick off!”

Want to write your own Friday Feeling entry?

Send

A high res photo

A short paragraph about yourself

What illnesses you have

Your diary entry with the following topics in it:

It’s Friday, many people will go out tonight for a few sociable drinks with their friends. What do you do on a typical Friday night?
How are you feeling at this moment about your chronic illness?
How do you feel about the future in regards to your illness?
How do you feel about the way people view your illness?

and links to your blog and social media to evienevin87@yahoo.ie

Be sure to put “Friday Feelings” in the subject bar.

Till Sunday,

Z.M

x

 

 

 

 

Awareness, chronic pain, Friday Feelings, Guest Posts, health, Rare Diseases, spoonies

Friday Feelings with A Chronic Voice

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Hey there, hi there, ho there!

Sorry we are late to the party this week. I’ll explain in my post tomorrow why I am late.

Anyway, this week I spoke to Sheryl from A Chronic Voice. Sheryl suffers from antiphospholipid syndrome (a blood clotting disorder), Lupus (SLE), Sjögren’s Syndrome, Epilepsy, PSVT (a heart rhythm disorder), a repaired mitral valve, osteoporosis from long term steroids, and couple more illnesses. You can find Sheryl on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram.

My name is Sheryl and I’m from Singapore, a sunny island in Southeast Asia. Writing and travelling are my two biggest passions in life (I know, cliché, but it’s true ;)). Other hobbies I’ve been dabbling with of late include flower arrangement and learning French.

I used to work in an ad agency as a frontend web developer, but had to quit as the stress was literally killing me (needed blood transfusions). I am still trying to find ways to balance my health while earning a living. I feel very fortunate to have such supportive loved ones.

I blog over at A Chronic Voice and Journey Jot (albeit much neglected). I am trying to find ways to merge the two 🙂

So now that we know a little about Sheryl, let’s look at her Friday Feelings entry.

profile_white_dress_bright

“Dear Diary,

It’s Friday and most people are out partying the night away. I am perfectly content that I’m at home, having a normal home-cooked meal or pizza with my partner, watching a movie. Sometimes we go for a spontaneous walk or outing. We do make an effort to dress up and go out once a month however, either for a dinner date, or to meet some new people. I feel that this is important even though I’d rather stay in, because I do not want to lose touch with the world. It’s so easy to become trapped in our own without even realising it, which creates tunnel visions and narrow minds.

Right now, I’m not in that much pain, so I’m all chummy with it. I think to myself, ‘oh, there’s plenty I can learn from pain.’ I’ll probably change my stance when it comes back with a sadistic grin…which should be soon as I have a surgery scheduled on Monday 😉

There is no future with chronic illness. To clarify, I don’t even know what’s up for tomorrow. I will have a rough idea only when I open my eyes in the morning. There is an underlying worry, for sure. I think to myself, ‘I am already so weak physically and unstable financially now. What more in 20 years time, when we all become naturally less resilient?’

Then again, I don’t feel as miserable as I used to anymore. I have come to realise that it is ridiculous to compare myself to the rest of society. Put it this way – if chronic illness and being in pain was the norm, how would the average person behave? From that perspective, I think I’m doing okay. My loved ones always say to me, ‘take it one day at a time, that’s all you can do’. And I think it’s getting drilled into my head pretty good.

Since I’ve become active on Facebook with my blog (I never really posted much before that), I think people have become more sensitive when they are around me. This is both a good and bad thing. While they are more compassionate, there is also a vibe of walking on eggshells, which I don’t like.

Strangers on the other hand are quick to judge anything invisible; I do that myself. But surprisingly, there are those with chronic illnesses who judge you harsher than society. Almost as if they have become so bitter and so engrossed with their illness, that they claim ‘ownership’ over it. And that’s risky behaviour which I hope I never sink too deeply into.

Thank you for taking the time to read my diary entry, and wishing you a fabulous week ahead!”

A big thank you to Sheryl for taking part in Friday Feelings despite having to prep for surgery tomorrow!

Can you relate to Sheryl’s entry? Do you find people walk around on eggshells around you or have you noticed competitiveness in chronic illness circles? You can comment below and let us know your thoughts. You can also follow Sheryl on Pinterest and Google+

Want to write your own Friday Feeling entry?

Send

A high res photo

A short paragraph about yourself

What illnesses you have

Your diary entry with the following topics in it:

It’s Friday, many people will go out tonight for a few sociable drinks with their friends. What do you do on a typical Friday night?
How are you feeling at this moment about your chronic illness?
How do you feel about the future in regards to your illness?
How do you feel about the way people view your illness?

and links to your blog and social media to evienevin87@yahoo.ie

Be sure to put “Friday Feelings” in the subject bar.

So until tomorrow,

Z.M

x

 

Awareness, chronic illness, Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, family, health, Rare Diseases, spoonies, Uncategorized

Being Chronically Ill means..

5 Comments

Hey there, hi there, ho there!

Hope everyone had a nice break over the holiday period and that you’ve recovered from all the travelling, cooking, early mornings and late nights.

In latest news I’m very excited to announce I have been asked to speak at a medical conference in Manchester this coming May. The conference is to educate and raise awareness of Vascular Ehlers Danlos Syndrome. I am truly honoured to have been asked to address medical professionals from all over the world. It’s a massive responsibility to represent the EDS community and I will do my best to explain the struggles we all face.

Anyway,  I just wrote this piece for a bit of a laugh. I’m not trying to be a negative ninny (in case somebody doesn’t pick up on my sarcastic tone), I will get around to writing part two of my trip to London shortly. I know some of you were eager to read about prices and places to stay etc.

Hope you enjoy my latest blog!

One day of fun=several days of a flare up.

You’ve taken your meds, you’re feeling as well as can be. You put on your glad rags and you make it into the car. Even doing that much your energy levels start to drop and your pain levels start to rise but God damn it, your going to this party. You’ve been staring at the same four walls for weeks now. Even if you have to walk in with a cane or arrive in your wheelchair, you are going to spread your wings and be a social butterfly for one evening.

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You manage to spend an hour or so catching up with friends while listening to how “you look great and you’d never know you were sick by looking at you” when all you wanted to do was forget you were sick for one night. But getting out is worth being someone’s inspiration porn.

You go home and fall into bed. This is where you stay for the next few days only crawling out to use the toilet or to grab a packet of crackers to stop yourself from starving to death.

You have more sets of PJs than actual clothes.

You spend more time at home than you do outside so it’s only natural you’d spend a lot of time in what you’re most comfortable in. While many of us would prefer to get dressed and glammed up to make ourselves feel normal, others just don’t want to waste energy on putting on clothes and make up. A lot of the time you choose between getting dressed or putting on a load of laundry or ya know, eating?

Hey! If these dudes can walk around in their house all day in their PJs, why can’t I?

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Your bed is your best friend and your enemy.

When you’re ill a lot of the time your bedroom becomes your place to escape so that you can rest and recover. Unfortunately you do end up spending a lot of time in bed and sometimes it can be for several days. You can often end up resenting your bed. While the majority of society love their beds, people who are chronically ill associate it with being in pain.

You often develop a less than desirable odour.

When you’ve been in bed for a day or so, you develop a very specific smell. It’s a mix of sweat, anguish and food that you’ve spilled on yourself. Getting up for a shower can be very tough on our bodies. Again, it’s about picking and choosing what you spend your energy on. Bathing or making dinner. The kids have to eat. The smell won’t kill em but starvation probably will.

When you do get round to washing  yourself you feel somewhat human again. But then you have to go lie down.

If someone were to shake you, you’d probably rattle.

You can never just have one chronic illness. No, no, no. There’s always a domino affect. Your main illness causes all sorts of weird and wonderful sub conditions. Consequently you take a whole lotta pills to keep yourself functioning. You’ve got one cupboard in your house that looks like a pharmacy, you have to brace yourself when you open it as more often than not, something falls out. People are always shocked to see it and know that if they get a headache while in your home you’ll have an array of pills to kick that sucker’s ass.

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A successful day for you is getting dressed and actually leaving the house.

Just grabbing whatever has been tossed at the end of your bed and leaving the house to buy food or collect the kids is enough to gush about when your significant comes home from work. Victory is yours!

You get annoyed listening to people crib about having a cold, going to work or having to go to out socialising with their friends even though they are so00 tired.

Many of us can’t work or leave the house when we want so don’t complain and tell us “I know how you feel” because you have a cold. Difference is you’re going to get better. Oh no! You have to go to a Christmas party? My heart bleeds for you.

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You have watched anything worth watching already.

Netflix and chill doesn’t mean the same thing to us. It literally means to binge watch shows while doped up to our eye balls on pain meds. Many of us will tell you we have spent many a day watching OITNB while curled into the foetal position because said meds aren’t working.

Till next time,

Z.M

x

Breastfeeding, children, family, health, parenting

Tongue tie DOES affect breastfeeding

3 Comments

 

I never thought I’d be brave enough to share this photo but after much encouragement from friends to share my story, I apprehensively upload it. If it helps one woman get through a rough patch, then it is worth any possible embarrassment. This was me when my little girl, Ollie was three weeks old. I was exhausted, actually I was beyond exhausted. I was a zombie trying to disguise myself as a functioning member of society. I was pumping every two hours to get what little breast milk I had to feed my precious little girl. She had an anterior tongue tie that meant she could not physically latch.

After she was born, I knew something wasn’t right. Her latch felt shallow. “I’m pretty sure she has a tongue tie,” I said to the midwife. The midwife glanced inside my baby’s mouth. “No, no, she doesn’t.” As if I was some silly little girl that didn’t know what she was talking about. This isn’t my first experience of tongue tie, lady.

The next three days in hospital were the worst of my life. I began expressing colostrum. One of the younger midwives was very kind and helped me. While I hand expressed milk, she knelt beside me with a syringe and sucked it all up. My baby was having on average 1ml an hour. That didn’t worry me though as I knew baby’s tummy could only hold only a few millilitres at a time anyway. There was a suggestion of giving her formula. At that time I said “If her blood sugars are low, we will talk about it.” Her blood sugars were fine so I continued pumping every hour on the hour. I was exhausted but I was determined to get through this.

 

Formula was mentioned another couple of times so I was eager to get the f**k out of that hospital. If I wanted to breastfeed no way was I going to be successful stuck in there, with half arsed support. I knew my daughter had a tongue tie and the midwives were clueless, shoving my daughter’s face into my breast in frustration.

I rang a private lactation consultant who I had a good relationship with through my work as a health reporter. She confirmed that baby had a significant tongue tie and that it would need to be clipped.

We travelled an hour away and paid €200 to have my daughter’s tongue tie clipped. It was the most expensive two seconds of my life. The GP who performed the procedure said that it was one of the worst anterior tongue ties she had ever seen and that my daughter’s tongue was pretty much non functioning.

 

 

Those words..non functioning. Meaning my daughter would have had a plethora of problems later on, including her speech. Now, imagine if I wasn’t as well informed and educated and I had been and I had taken the midwife’s word that my daughter’s latch was fine. Imagine I wasn’t determined to breastfeed. I would have given up within the first 2 days. The only reason I was so well informed this time is because I found out my son had a posterior tongue tie when he was 3. I only managed to breastfeed him for 2 weeks. Feeding with his tongue tie caused my nipples to blister, bleed and crack. I cried at the very thought of feeding him.

 

After the tongue tie was clipped, my baby’s latch was getting better and better. As Dr Jack Newman says “babies learn to breastfeed by breastfeeding.” It was just a matter of time and practice for the two of us. I was continuing to pump still as it takes up to 2 weeks for baby to learn how to latch again.

By 6 weeks she was exclusively on the boob and we were both so happy. I was so happy to sleep again! Instead of waking up every two hours to pump a couple of ounces, I kept baby close in bed with me. When she woke, it was just a case of popping boob out, latching her on and drifting back to sleep.

 

There is no doubt that tongue tie affects infant feeding. It can affect bottle fed babies too! There is a question over whether lip tie affects feeding but anecdotal and some scientific evidence suggests it might. It needs to be explored further.

Both my children have lip tie. Ollie’s lip tie is pretty significant but it doesn’t affect our feeding, thankfully. You’ll notice the people with significant lip tie immediately, they have a gap between their two front teeth.

The thing is, I’m not angry at the staff in the maternity hospital for letting me down. I’m angry at the whole system. Our health care professionals including midwives, public health nurses, dentists, consultants and GPs all need training on this subject. Too many women are being fobbed off and it is affecting the health of our children. It’s also costing the government €12 million a year! That’s how much we would save if all Irish women breastfed. But, at present we are doomed to fail. Things won’t change until support is increased and training is up to date amongst health care workers.

If my story rings any bells please do not beat yourself up for not being able to breastfeed. Don’t feel guilty, feel angry! You were let down! Once you come to this realisation you can use your own experiences to help other mothers. Breastfeeding is a learned and skill and yes its bloody hard in those first few weeks but it isn’t meant to hurt! No matter what your aunt, grandmother or friend says. If breastfeeding hurt, we would have never survived as a species. Think about it for a second.

If you are having trouble breastfeeding please contact Le Leche League or a lactation consultant.

Without my lactation consultant, I would have never made it to this milestone of six months. The help is out there, go seek it.

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