Tag Archives: spasms

Catheter’s Curse Forced To Continue…

For more than Two Years I have endured my Catheter’s Torment… And I came So Damned Close to escaping it this week… Instead, I get to endure its strange ways for even longer now.

There has been nothing but Blinding, Brain-Exploding, White-Hot, Agonising Pain for Days

I have had no sleep for three nights straight — awake all night through solely from blinding agony and extraordinarily constant, non-stop, Bladder Spasms.

The pain wouldn’t even allow me the vague comfort lying in bed. It forces me to sit on the floor, shaking and yelling in agony… For hours and hours on end. If there is any reprieve, it means the pain is less (and in no way gone)… But I still cannot move.

I am constantly Blacking Out — completely losing consciousness, from a few moments to several minutes. This is what the agony & the exhaustion of this situation has done to me. I have even suffered with these episodes for several hours before. They’re frightening. These come from the immense and combined effects of having to endure constant blinding pain and the sheer physical exhaustion of dealing with sleep deprivation and enduring insane levels of Agony that hits nowhere near the 10-Score Pain Scale.

These Black Outs are not just “dropping off”, like you might do if you’re a “bit tired”... It’s not like sleeping, not at all… You don’t even know you’re going off; certainly have no clue if you’ve gone. Coming round, though, is an absolutely Horrible experience…

Upon being roused — which usually can also take a while — I always end up struggling greatly with temporary full amnesia anywhere from a moment or two, up to a lot more than several seconds… And when (not ”if”) it takes a really long time for my existence to come back to me, it’s Freaking Terrifying

Arguably, the really worst part of this problem, is all the Hallucinating. More Vivid… More Real… Than Any Dreams I’ve had… Enough for me to believe they really are real, whilst both experiencing them and even for some time after being roused. It’s one of the biggest reasons I have no idea about any conscious reality when I open my eyes

I cannot argue any of this is new… In fact, that it isn’t, is the entire point… And that it should no longer be occurringbecause I should already have a Suprapubic Catheter by now, meaning

NONE OF THIS SHOULD BE HAPPENING…

Devastation

Five Days Ago…I was supposed to FINALLYGoddamned FINALLY!! —  Get my Suprapubic Catheter Installed…

I was SUPPOSED TO Get. My. Goddamned Life. Back. At least a little bit

However, instead of managing to figure out the First Steps of living with a Suprapubic… I end up in even more Dire Straights than I have been for a while

Quite Frankly, it is unconscionable… And Being So Goddamned Freaking Close to that Finishing Line… Neither my head nor my heart can truly bear it or Process It And What makes it worse is that since then, there has been blisteringly blinding white-hot agony from the Bladder Spasms like nobody’s business…

This should have been concluded by last August (2019)..

But! Not because of the Disppointment — I wish it was, quite frankly!… It’s because that just at that specific time (ha! The time I truly needed that goddamned Suprapubic to be in…!!!😳🤬😤),  two things turned up that really really would have gone So Much Better  if I’d had the surgery before having to deal with those two things…                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      


First Consequences of Cancelled Surgery…

… And this is only the beginning of them…


I’m SO exhausted and in So Much Fucking Pain, that I am Severely Blacking Out again — as I have been all day… 

I am looking at having to suffer through a Third Sleepless Night In A Row… And I just can’t get my head around it. This obviously shouldn’t be happening — this should have already been All Over With By Now

The Utterly, Utterly brain-exploding Blinding White Agony has been tormenting me all day… Like last night. And yesterday. And the night before that. And the day before that…

Immensely Agonising, Unrelenting, Cruel, Exhsusting… These Spasms have kept me awake for two entire nights, consecutively…  Never ending. Needing to sit through immensely intense, unbearable, bladder spasms.

Screaming and writhing for even more days after that stupid thing should have been removed and Replaced… 

My head is Spinning… I literally cannot see straight   — my eyesight wavers and twitches rapidly, blanks out, cannot focus… And all I want to do is to go to Sleep… 

I have been Blacking Out All Goddamned Day… It’s been horrible. So stressful. So Anxiety-Inducing… I am Vibrating from the Physical & Emotional Stress — and unable do to much of anything except have to endure the Agony Ripping through my body, every time  a  Spasm explodes inside…

My lower back is in Horrendous Pain; most of this is stemming from the fact I need to go Make… And. I. Just. Cannot. Go…!!!! Even trying, it could only just come right out wo…

I can’t lie down — or even sit up — in bed, because of the Spasms… One wrong breath and the damned Catheter will Shove itself the fuck out.  

Getting annihilated by wanting to do something good for myself…. How utterly cruel can you get…?

As long as I am doing something, something that involves some physical challenges involving some effortlike building a squares cupboard, and having to rearrange your bedroom to re-rig your computer — then I am playing with Fire. Brilliant-White Mind-Exploding Agonising was Fire.

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My (Nightmare) Catheter and I…

… Throwback Thought…

Today, I got a call from Urology stating that the Suprapubic Surgery I have been waiting Two Years For has been Cancelled — Four Days Before it was due (20th March 2020). Due To The Coronavirus Pandemonium.

This was after waiting One Year to see the consultant — on 14th February 2019 — then having to be forced through THREE Pre-Operative Appointments (the first being in May 2019) and a further consultation with Haematology 10 days before the surgery. 

This procedure  should have been completed by August 2019, when the first Pre-Op ran out. Instead, I had to wait an ENTRE YEAR just to get that Surgical Appointment. Which they have now just taken from me mere days before it was due to go ahead.

Now, I face untold amount of further waiting. And therefore, untold amount of further Catheter Expulsions, more agonising pain, more bladder spasms, more of my energy being drained and depleted even further than they already have been, further stresses and anxieties related to this, and no ability to basically go anywhere, lest it falls out whilst I am outside. If I had the actual energy to go. Or the lack of spasms and pain to go. Or, frankly, do much of anything, either.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          

First of all, the Catheter in and of itself is painful to have inside my bladder. Bladder spasms are Constant, extremely agonising, and are throughout the day, every day. During each spasm, the pain is so intenseI cannot breathe, and I cannot move. I have to try and calm my physical self down, otherwise any movement at all will result in immediateexpulsion of the Balloon. They can last from seconds, to a few minutes, to half an hour or more. It entirely depends on what it feels like. And with this, comes the obvious bypassing. And eventually, (or extremely rapidly!), the Balloon with inevitably get shoved out by all those spasms I am getting.

Whilst the Catheter is in, I have extreme difficulty moving my bowels. If I manage to go and move my bowels, and more often it’s when I do not, I also have to spend a long time in the bathroom – and almost always over an hour, each and every time – fighting with my body’s reaction to the Catheter, so as to ensure that it does not expel itself. Too often, I lose this battle, but every time I have to try. 

More often than not, I cannot go and move my bowel for days on end — and it has nothing to do with the state of my bowel, and nor am I constipated. Instead, I cannot let myself pass stool on most days, because any stool that is extracted will take that Catheter right out with it. In fact, that happens so often now, it’s a 50-50 chance as to whether it’s a bowel movement or a bladder spasm that pushes them out. In So Many Cases… It’s the two of them Together, in Unison.

There’s also the problem that spasms meant for Peristalsis ends up being sent to my bladder and trigging spasms in there, causing the catheter to immediately be expelled if I don’t take immediate action. This has been going on since before I went to hospital for Sepsis – they were so bad then I literally would scream my lungs out. Now, it’s not quite that bad, but it’s still extremely painful now, regardless.

This issue with the strange interaction with my bowel creates its own [secondary] issues, obviously. Since the stool is technically capable of leaving, could be excreted, it seems ridiculous that I shouldn’t be able to manage it — but I am not willing to have my catheter expelled along with it. The upshot of that, of course, is a lot of bowel issues, because I cannot afford to secrete it if it’s going to also shove the Catheter out along with it.

The thing with that also is that I end up going 2 or maybe 3 times to the bathroom in a day, and often in the early hours of the morning – for instance, this morning I was back in from 3:30am until about 4:15amI often pass out whilst I am there, usually from Exhaustion, and Pain. It’s a difficult, painful, draining trip for me to make, from my room to the bathroom, trying to crawl or drag myself there, then pull myself up onto the toilet using the bars set up for me, which takes a good lot of strength and effort to manage, because I have to hoist my entire body up there and place myself on the toilet, and come back off again, using just my arms. 

The implications of the Catheter expelling is horrendous. It’s not straightforward. It’s not simple. It’s not easy. It comes out with the Balloon intact, each and every time. It triggers even more spasms, which are even more intense. Causes Retention. Becomes nothing less than Blinding AgonyIt Requires Treatment in the shortest Possible Time, or it spasms shut.

And it’s (almost literally) happened too many times to count over the past Two Years — in some cases I have had more Catheters within a single month than almost everybody else has In One Year. 

The problem is that as soon as the Catheter comes out, everything goes into a locked-in spasm around my pelvis — my Gluteus, the top of my legs, and my bladder — and it is AgonisingThe Bladder Spasms then almost do not stop at allIf there is any amount of what is basically leakage from the bladder, it feels like acid, then I cannot breathe or move, like with all the other bladder spasms I get..

I have found out (to my detriment, and over many instances) that If The Catheter Is Out For More than Three Hours, it is almost impossible to get another one in. It requires high doses of extra Oramorph. To say this is Highly Stressful and Distressing is a damned understatement and a half. I hate it. A lot.

This becomes a big problem if a certain someone answers the phone there (and by that, I mean I literally don’t know who they are, but it’s always the same person doing it).. When my mother calls up the district nurses during the day (or even if I somehow manage to), and a certain person answers the phone at the District Nurse’s office, I am lucky if I see anyone that day, frankly. I do not know who this person is, since she has never given her name to me — but she is… Surly. Dismissive. Rude. Downright Actively Refuses To Listen. Doesn’t Take My Situation Seriously WhatsoeverOne time, I was in tears because of her — I was Desperate for someone to reinsert the Catheter ASAP, but instead, I was very rudely told that I was fine and there was nothing wrongdespite my telling her several times I was in great pain and in Retention! If she is one of the nurses, I hope she never comes to see me. She is awful, insensitive, cruel and rude.

On that day [that I cried], I was pushed back in the queue so far down, and I was in Desperate Agony and Retention Long before anyone came. Despite first calling in at around 3pm with a Catheter Expulsion, she put me on the back-burner over and over, until I was on the Out of Hours List, and only seen to around SEVEN HOURS LATER.

It then took 20-30 minutes to get a Catheter back inincluding requiring a total of 10ml (20mg) Extra of Oramorph to settle the Massive Spasms & Retention my body had gone into during that time. 

The more the Catheter comes out, the more drained and exhausted, and non-functional from it, I become. This last time it came out, it was On. My. Birthday… at around 5am… I was seen to around 8:30am by Out Of Hours. The rest of the day involved anything but celebrating. Instead, on my 39th Birthday, I was upstairs in my room, crippled with the severe spasms and immense pain that comes with every new catheter, frankly wishing that I was dead. That is no way to spend anybody’sday, let alone birthday. And yet, that is my Every Day.

The knock-on effect of all this is Life-Changing. In a Very Bad Way. The Frank Truth is that I am Very Miserably, Permanently Housebound. All day, Every day. To Go Outside Now— it’s a minefield of balancing and battling a multitude of issues, other Conditions, medication, extra pain relief, Catheter Go-Bags, Extra Pads, and going only in reasonable reach of a functional 24hr A&E.

My Mental Health hasn’t just been affected — it has been Damaged Immeasurably… Or destroyed… My Confidence Just Vanished. Shame & Self-Loathing Runs Rampant. Utterly Depleted Exhaustion is a way of life. My Autism is permanently on a knife’s Edge of TMI Sensory Overloads and constant threats of Meltdowns, driven by the unknown, by chaos, by fear, by pain, by tumultuous things and never ending Extreme Stress. My AgoraphobiaBPD, and other Anxieties have flared severely and with a vengeance. My Depression is fully alive and well, along with despair and hopelessness. Once again, I struggle with my will to live… It’s too, too, too Exhausting to manage or even think about it.

The reason it quite often lasts more than a few days these days, is literally that I Do Not Move, or Gonywhere. Ever… Because I Just I Can’t. The result is that the lack of movement means the muscles around the catheter balloon are less likely to activate. It’s a double-edged sword…

And I shouldn’t be faced with either of those sides. Just trying to do anything, results in more expulsions, so I am forced to be as sedentary as possible, which I hate! The thing is, that if I ever need to do anything that involves a lot of effort, or moving around on the floor, it will not stay in. Not only that, but beforehand the pain and intensity of the spasms become immensely agonising.

It traps me inside a body that is already severely limited. Disabled my more than anything else does. Dictates Everything about me, my life, my family’s life… I am becoming Damaged and Traumatised by this, beyond repair. And yet, now, despite fighting So Goddamned Hard and being being So Goddamned Close… we have no idea If or When they might get round to doing this again for me…

Maybe Making This My Forever.


Runaway Catheters…

I really have had enough of this – and I really don’t know what I can do about it… Since I left hospital, almost every catheter I’ve been given has expelled itself, with full balloon, within 24-72 hours on average. I don’t know how, and I don’t know why. But what I do know is that once again I am at the mercy of another thing controlling my life. Again.

I can’t really go anywhere anymore – again – because I don’t know when it’s going to come out. I can’t sleep properly because it causes “pain” – strange sensations that are basically very painful to experience but aren’t like normal pain. They’ve given me Baclofen, but the dosage needs to be raised. But I know it’s not going to help that much with this (it’s great for Fibro spasms though)… From some of the sensations I get with them, it feels like they’re just not going to be tolerated… and my system will do whatever it can to simply be rid of it. And it does a pretty good job of it, too.

I should be seeing a urologist ASAP, but we’re talking about NHS waiting lists here… I’ll be lucky to see one before I take out my pension (which will be at age 85 at this rate…). I probably require a suprapubic catheter… though apparently sometimes injections of Botox into the bladder is occasionally used to stop this from happening too… Not the most pleasant idea, either way. But if it stops this? I’m all for it.

I’ve been through countless catheters in the last three or so months. The District Nurses don’t know what to do with me – except, just put another one in, of course. This one was by far the worst one though – it was trying to come back out from the moment it was put in. Sometimes I do wonder what kind of trauma has happened to the urethra, too… Flushing out rather large balloons constantly almost every other day for weeks cannot be very good for it. I know it hurts a lot to pass water when there’s retention buildup – which is quite constant now, for some reason. Then the force of the water expelling dislodges the balloon – and with every one, it wriggles more and more loose until it expels once again.

Regardless of how much longer can I take this – there really is the question of how long my urethra and bladder can take it… It’s going to end up harming them badly, shoving that balloon out several times a week. You’re supposed to average one catheter every three months, not three every damned week, after all. It must be causing great irritation. And I can’t manage without one. Oh, yes, that ship sailed a long time ago now.

If the District Nurses gave out Air Miles, I could go to the damned moon and back, I’m sure. I’d definitely be eligible for a free pen, at least. Or maybe a keyring.

I can’t even find any other reference to such a thing happening elsewhere. No reference to it online by other people, nor on medical sites or even where there is advice on catheters. It just isn’t mentioned. Not expulsions that happen nearly… Every. Single. Day.

It also doesn’t help when you have places to go, appointments to keep. Or a life to be lived. I have only just returned to some form of an existence after spending at least eight months firstly bedroom-bound, and then hospital-bound. I was expecting to be able to have at least some freedom to do a few things that I pleased. But no… at this rate, we’re back to being bedroom-bound again.

I am again not even certain I will be able to realistically make it to the appointment I have tomorrow, quite far away, for a new wheelchair consult. Well, my first wheelchair with them, because it took them bloody forever to get to me on the waiting list… But that’s a different type of gripe…!

I can’t realistically go out in the car for well over an hour each way, plus appointment time, without a catheter. If the next catheter only lasts 24 hours I’ll either not be going or I’ll be out there in the middle of it when it finally gives up the ghost.

I really can’t work out just how the hell it’s managing this… The thing just quite literally fell out this time. No spasm, no massive flow of water… It just fell out. Just like that. I’m going to go out on a limb and say it may be getting worse….

 

 

GrumpyBear

 

IMG_1109

… Urgh…

 

 


My ASD: Mistakes. Are. Bad… Very. Bad.

I’m not even sure why they even exist… but these physiotherapists are just such a waste of time. She screwed up again – and I pretty much had a meltdown about it, also causing a big set of severe Fibro spasm attacks. Hoorah

After going to so much trouble to get the right date this week so my mother was here with me, the damn physio wrote in the wrong date anyway into the diary when she got back, and after waiting and waiting and waiting, I only find this out after I call when she’s an hour late. So that’s two ruined days because of her, which has just sent an already troubling and difficult week into a horrible tailspin.

It is clear that no matter what acts or policies that are in place, nobody cares about how they treat you when you have ASD. It’s OK for them – they’re not the ones who have to deal with the meltdown (or at least severe anxiety attack) that is the result of this god-awful thoughtlessness. After trying to deal with it all afternoon, I had an anxiety attack and mini-meltdown later on in the evening, after that panic built and built and built. It in turn ended up in a series of severe spasm attacks that were horrific and painful. But she didn’t have to care about that, did she? No. She could be ignorant of it, never know about it, never need to care about it. It doesn’t affect her. So why should she care, right?

Apparently, that’s how they all think. It’s certainly how they all behave… And it’s just horrible. To the point of being traumatising.

20160920_173759000_iOSWhen appointments are made, stick to them. Don’t be late. Call if you’re going to be late. Isn’t that “NT” politeness anyway? Well, it’s vital in my world. I’ve already had PIP mess me around. I’ve already been thrown into hell with the isobars down at 1000mb level, unable to even breathe sometimes it’s so painful. I’ve already had a hell of a morning, starting with 3-4 hours of going through the motions of trying to get up – yes, that’s how hard it is. And I’ve had to get up super-early so there’s enough time to do all this and regain an equilibrium before the appointment…

And then after all of my efforts I find the physio didn’t even try to get this right. After we brought out the calander and showed her all the dates my mother was available. She still couldn’t get it right. The emotional turmoil of this, of all my efforts for nothing, that the fact she could make such a mistake that cost me so much… It’s just too much to bare.

There’s also the other point that I cannot even begin to cope with changes… as well as the horrifying realisation that she probably didn’t get the message I left with their reception to cancel the appointment she wrote up, and that she might come tomorrow anyway. When she wasn’t supposed to. When I told her not to… And then I have to cope with that thought, with that change, with that intrusion, because she wasn’t supposed to come tomorrow… It’s horrifying to think that she thinks it’s OK to put me though such a thing, just because she can’t concentrate long enough to put the correct date down. It seems so unfair. It’s not like they don’t know I have ASD… They just don’t care, or have a clue about it. Or care to have a clue about it.

Proving legislation and policy  is a complete and utter waste of time.

Tomorrow, either I’m going to be home alone when she comes, or my father remains here with me instead of attending his weekly visit to see his elderly mother. I don’t understand emotion generally, but I know that uncomfortable feeling of guilt. And that last option makes me feel a lot of that. The former terrifies the bejeezus out of me – I have no intention of being there alone with her. I’ll either say nothing, or say precisely what’s on my mind… which I’ve learnt that NTs do not want to hear. Apparently they’re allergic to the truth. The polite fluff they engage in is still beyond me, even though I generally attempt to emulate it. Probably quite badly, but hey… at least I try. Which is more that can be said for the other way – not many NTs [professionals] try to understand ASD-Land at all.

Like the physiotherapist. And PIP.

GrumpyBearI am “ranting”, but it’s so very horrible. “NT” people never seem to understand this – although some at least accept it. I’m terrified of tomorrow (and that’s actually an understatement), and the fact the isobars are still on the floor are not helping. It’s going to be a long morning, at the end of which, I have to call the receptionist back tomorrow to verify the appointment has been cancelled and the physio is not coming. She was supposed to call about it (the physio, that is) and reschedule, and she never did. With that evidence I can only conclude she thinks she’s still coming here. It seems that if she has a mobile phone, neither her receptionist nor myself have the details of it to contact her directly when she’s out.

I knew they were a waste of time, but since the initial attempt at contact was a farce. It’s not ending, either. It still is. I can’t see any reason to continue with this – it’s one extra burden I can do without, given there’s no payoff from it. I’m already ahead of her game, and so far she can offer nothing better. So I’m wondering why I’m spending the effort of enduring hours of pain and torment to get up in time for her to come, when she’s not actually even coming in the end, because she couldn’t do one simple thing right – write an appointment in her diary on the correct day. And repeating it all again in case she turns up tomorrow. It’s harrowing.

I really am honestly scared of facing tomorrow. I hope I get some sleep… It’s “only” 1:49am as I write this now. And there’s a long night ahead…

 

A Question of Sanity

 


What Am I…?


It feels like it has been a long time since I knew what it meant to be “me”.

What am I now? Not much, it seems.

Curiosity is lost. I have no desire to read or learn – because I just can no retain any information anymore. I feel exhausted just picking up my Kindle, magazines, or iPad for anything other than fooling around with it. I shouldn’t – and quite frankly, I’m not even sure why.

I am immobile and housebound. Under a required house-arrest because the off-the-rack wheelchair makes me so ill it’s insanity itself to even attempt to sit in it anymore.

My strange neuropathic paraesthesia / (numbed?) Fibromyalgia /  Hemiplegic Migraine thing going on, that no one can actually explain, keeps me prisoner in its claws – I can’t walk, sometimes barely crawl, my fingers don’t work very often, and I can feel so terrible (paraesthesia, spasms, feeling like I’ve been filled with cement, brain-fogged, unable to eat or move) that I simply can do nothing but stare at the TV. Not really watch it, just stare at it.

I am badly overweight and struggling to even move, let alone try to be any kind of active. I do try – a lot. But the windows of opportunities are so sporadic, they don’t really count. So I don’t get to do the things I love(d)much anymore – Pilates, Yoga, dancing. I do them as much as I can when I can, and it’s literally quite the relief to be able to do at least something, no matter what it is. Another part of my past that I can touch occasionally, and feel something that brings great comfort and familiarity. There aren’t many of those left now.

I have so little control over limbs and key muscles. There’s no diaphragm, no pelvic floor, very little use of my right leg at the best of times, and on occasion my right arm too. I can barely feel my tummy except in one space in the very centre. I can’t sing, have to use Gown-up Huggies (or lady-pants, as Tena likes to call them), and I am a slave to the weather and air pressure (check your isobars if you feel really rubbish – I just stop working once it dips below 1020mb, and I fall apart and can black out in 1015mb or less).

Dignity is gone. I quite often have to crawl, or worse, be reduced to attempting to “commando crawl” because my arms and legs dont work properly. I need help to clean myself, shower, brush my hair, change, go to the bathroom on bad days. And the Grown-Up Huggies don’t help, either.

I lost the ability to drive. I can no longer cook. I have a robot I was so excited to make sitting around in parts. I have courses I wanted to learn that have sat around gathering dust, after only managing a small handful of them before falling too ill to carry on. I can no longer go horse riding. The list of books and magazines that keep going unread hurt me deeply. I feel like I live in loss and missed opportunity, and it’s quite frankly heartbreaking.

My memory has gone, particularly STM (Short-Term Memory). The long term memory went a long time ago, and has never really returned. There are people, places, things, occurrences that I have no idea about. Today I forgot how a General Election worked when you went to vote. I’ve been voting since I was 18… I hate to count how many polling stations I’ve been to in the subsequent near two decades hence. I should have known it, but I did not. People tell me things and have conversations with me, and I have no idea ten seconds later that it even occurred, let alone what was said. I’ve given up being disturbed by that – it happens too often now… it’s another unfortunate “new norm”.

The small things can really get you. I feel really put out I can’t now go to the cinema, because I can’t use my chair – I’ve spent ages looking forward to seeing the new Wonder Woman movie for months, and now I can no longer go. I feel awful I cannot cook my own food. I can’t even make my own tea, and the hot water dispenser is actually in my room (because once upon I time I actually could).

My ability to play games is sporadic, and I don’t enjoy it half as much as I should, could or would without this rediculous situation that I find myself in. The same goes with conversing with my friends, almost entirely losing my ability to actually speak to anyone – because it’s contra-indicating my ASD something rotten. I can’t fixate on anything but fear anxiety now – so there is no room for my usual crazy obsession about Mass Effect and Dragon Age. This might break my heart more than anything else.

I keep asking myself “What can I do?”… But there doesn’t seem much on an answer. I can sit… sort of. That causes problems in and of itself. I can stare at the TV… which I hate. Sometimes I can hold a conversation. On rarer occasions it might even be intelligent. I sit here thinking… and I struggle to think of anything more. That does not make me feel very good at all…

 

 

I’m waiting – constantly waiting – for it to “get better”. It doesn’t get better. It never get better.

For some reason, so far it’s only become worse. I really wish it would stop doing that.

Right now, it’s just existing in limbo, waiting to see if a new, proper, chair might allow me to have some semblance of an existence, in being that I get some respite from my incarceration here, get some perspective in going some places where I can take myself along. There’s always hope, and I really do hope to god this time I get some respite from all this by being able to “walk” myself about, to go for a “walk”, to make it to places that I can’t go now. Certainly couldn’t go in that other chair.

I’m trying to do good in waiting for it. Trying to get stronger arms and core. It’s not going too well, because despite it being June, no one told the weather, and the isobars and temperatures are through the floor – and we’re being bombarded by gales, rain, and storms. Fun. So far, for the last two weeks, the isobars haven’t risen above maybe 1010 or 1015mb. Next Tuesday (it’s very early Friday morning right now) it threatens to get to at least 1021mb. Hopefully, this time, it’s telling the truth. The last time, it most certainly was not!

If this weather doesn’t improve neither will I. I will still do as much as I can, but it won’t be the same, because the extent it makes me feel utterly terrible to the point of passing out can render it impossible to do anything. It seems so rediculous to be enslaved by something so rediculous, but there it is.

I hope I shall get some sleep sometime tonight – it’s 4:06am and I feel too wired to be able to sleep. I don’t even know why – if I did, that at least would be a start! I guess as an Aspie, that kind of thing is probably always going to elude me, but I do try my best to work it out. I could be anxious – it’s general election night. Or it could come from the fact that mornings can be harrowing after disturbing dreams/nightmares and being awoken badly in the morning – frankly the last two days have been extremely traumatising (no, I’m not kidding nor over-playing it… more like the opposite), and I do not have it in me to even begin to deal with a third day of such things.

Of course, I might not be anxious. It might be from a lack of being able to expel energy, thus never feeling tired. It’s hard to expel energy when you can’t move. It might be from the “pain” – and by that I mean feeling the intense sensations of Paraesthesia, which may as well be pain. It hurts, I suppose, but in a very different way to before, or what I’ve ever been used to before. So I just call it “pain” because it’s a shorthand that other people can easily understand, more metaphorical than literal.

I think the problem is I honestly don’t know if it’s all of them, any of them, or none of them. I wish I did, so I could do something about it. As it stands, I have no idea how to help myself, which is really annoying.

 

 


Saved By Tea….

Yes. Literally.

But not that nasty plain black tea. Pukka tea. The ingredients in it are so potent and effective, it eased what was a nightmare of a massive spasm attack that just would not go away, no matter what I did.

I went into a mass of unrelenting horrible spasms for hours and in desperation I had one of their teas – Lemon, Ginger & Manuka Honey: Ginger root with licorice root, eldferflower, fennel seed, tumeric, verbena, and of course lemon and honey, because ginger was a key anti-spasmodic in my massage oils. I was so exhausted and in so much pain from them it was a Hail-Mary – and then Mary really came through…

Within half a cup the horrific spasms I’d been having for hours diminished. I was able to relax(ish), breathe, be [my] normal again. It was amazing… and it stayed away. I topped it up later with Serene Jasmine Green tea and was able to play more of my game than I had in a long time.

I’m still astounded and relieved that there’s so much good stuff put into that Pukka that it knocked the spasms sideways and they didn’t come back – nothing has done that before. It certainly wasn’t doing it with anything else, and I was trying everything, but they relentless, agonising, contorting, and I could barely breathe because they were constricting my ribcage and diaphragm too. Then I managed to get just half of the tea down me and there was just a complete 180 on the symptoms they finally relented – truly amazing.

img_0886Today (as in the next day) I’ve used Ginseng Matcha Green tea and then the Ginger one a bit later to see how that deals with my symptoms. The Ginseng Matcha is to substitute for my second coffee of the day and it’s given me a clearer head, helped with focus, and seemed to have allowed me to eat something, which isn’t normal for this time of day. They’re not quite to my taste, since I really dislike ginger… but if it can do that, I’ll drink anything.

I still can’t get my head around the fact a cup of tea can do that… but then again, why should it not? Way back in the day, it used to be normal – before “Western medicine”, all “old” medicine was just that – flowers, foods, whatever, boiled into easily-drunk teas, oils, “potions”, etc. Ayurvedic medicine is overlooked too much in favour of “Western Science”, which is a terrible tragedy. It should at least be a option, and still probably cheaper than what the NHS pays for all these terrible chemical pills the pharmacies make and overcharge for. It may not be for everyone, but then neither is all the Western chemical pharmacy drugs…

I can’t imagine there aren’t other people around that are like me – allergic, hyper-sensitive, or [effectively] contraindicates almost all drugs for one reason or another. I’m intolerant or allergic to almost all drugs it seems – I can hardly take anything without becoming terribly ill, far more so than I am without it. As bad as things are, they’d be so much worse if I took everything the docs wanted to give me. Instead, it would have been a lot nicer if they could have sent me to see someone who was an Ayurvedic practitioner, or at least a prescription voucher for Pukka/Holland & Barrett/Whole Foods… Then I’d probably would have felt a lot better a lot sooner.

For me, this has been an eye-opener in what I should be doing and consuming to help myself. That I should concentrate more on the massage oil and aromatherapy recipes, on getting the right things inside me, whether through eating, through tea, through supplements (etc), through to presuming I can only help myself by relying solely on Courvoisier VSOP because there’s nothing else (and if I’m going to consume something that tastes like evil, it should have more benefits than simply turning my brain off and threatening eventual jaundice…).

 

 

 


Fun Times…

Just loving the hemiplegic migraine flare-ups going on right now… and especially loving the extra-excessive spasms and blackouts. Oh, yes… very fun… There’s nothing like coming round without a clue, and you’re somehow lying on the floor with someone trying to wake you up, and you don’t know how you got there, and you’ve just lost several hours to nothing.

Just a second ago, it seems you were just doing something vaguely normal, then suddently it’s many hours later and someone is truling to get you to come round, more akin to after surgery and you’re in Recovery than at home reading something or watching the TV.

Heaven knows where they’re suddently coming from and nothing is keeping them in check. The spasms are ridiculous and never seem to stop, squeezing, contorting, twisting, causing pain and writhing until (hopefully) they eventually get done with the torture.

Maybe it’s the weather…. Halfway up a mountain in soggy Snowdonia is just about one of the worst places to live with chronic illness. It’s April and yet apparently it’s officially colder than it was at Christmas. That whole “Global Warming” thing is definitely misplaced PR – over here it’s definitely “Global Freezing, Soggy, and Rainy”. There’s no “Global” in this “Warming”… The only warming seems to be in the Arctic, where the ice is melting, turning into cold rain, then being dragged over here and dumped right onto us. Yey.

This is also what happens when you’re allergic to meds and can’t take any… and there’s nothing you can do about it. It seems when the weather gets bad, this gets to stupid, and there’s nothing that can be done about it. Yey, again.

The neurologist at least sent a post-haste note in their letter to expedite access to Pain Management, to at least try and help, although lord knows what they can do without giving meds. On the bright side, at least the MRI was clean. And I checked… there was a brain. So there.

Being stuck in the house isn’t helping either, probably. But it’s just one of those circle things where you can’t win: Damned if you do and Damned if you don’t. Extra Yey.

Oh, and did I mention Yey…?

 

 

 


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