Tag Archives: physical health

You never know what’s around the corner

We never know what’s around the corner

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TW – Trigger Warning – this blog contains honest content about weight loss and symptoms of eating disorders. Please consider taking care of yourself and clicking away if this may be triggering for you.

For 2 weeks at the beginning of September I lived with an undiagnosed fractured jaw. Not just a little chip, my mandible is completely broken, all the way through! I went to hospital but they were certain it wasn’t broken (that’s a story for another blog). During the 2 weeks before diagnosis I was trying to manage a soft tissue injury which involves gentle exercises and trying to chew despite the terrible agony! I was even playing my saxophone!

Anyway, long story short, fracture diagnosed, surgery untaken, restricted diet underway and I’m losing weight like it’s going out of fashion!

I’m trying really hard to be honest with people about how things are going. Things haven’t been straight forward with the recovery, I’ve needed extra appointments and additional management.

This is a mental health blog where I talk honestly about mental illness and recovery. Being on the right side of recovery it’s (relatively) easy to talk about the bad stuff because I can see that things turn out alright in the end. But at the moment, while things are physically really hard, my mental health is under strain.

I always think twice about writing a blog like this because I don’t want anyone to worry about me (as there genuinely is no need).

My mood has taken a hit, for a number of reason: missed diagnosis, pain, fatigue, not being able to do the things I usually do. I think all these things would take its toll on anyone’s mood.

I also have a history of anorexia and despite full recovery, something I struggle to talk about is my residual poor body image. I was told, as I was supported to weight restore, that my mind would catch up with my body; they tell you, you must weight restore first, then you will gradually start to feel ok about a “normal/average” body size. But I never have, I’ve never felt ok in a “health” body. It’s always felt too big, too fat, like I’m taking up too much space. So as my weight has dropped on a liquid diet, I’m feeling a bit better about my body – I know this can be a slippery slope but it’s a familiar space and when you’re feeling low, you grasp for anything comforting. Old thought habits fall into place easily.

I’ve had people say “you’re looking good”; this really doesn’t help. Those of us who’ve been down the ED black hole know these comments fuel the fire.

The most scary thoughts/feelings are when I’m walking around a supermarket or in a cafe and I see lots of foods I want but can’t have. People often think anorexia is about hating food, forgetting about it and not being bothered by it – far from this, anorexia is an obsession with food, thinking about it all the time, the body wants it but the mind has to find ways to avoid due to shear fear and anxiety. When I had anorexia whenever I walked around a supermarket I would see lots of foods I wanted but I couldn’t have – right now this is all too familiar.

Ways I’m looking after myself:

  • Learning to rest and enjoy it – a familiar pattern would be to exercise away my limited calorie intake but I know this would be unhelpful. My body needs to heal, I need to help it as much as possible. It’s easy to feel guilty about resting but why should I feel guilty about looking after myself?
  • Getting fresh air everyday – it’s easy when feeling down to shut yourself away, especially with so little energy but fresh air is good for the soul!
  • Continuing with routine – although I can’t do a lot of things I usually do I’m still going to work and church. If I’m looking for familiarity, I can’t go wrong with being around familiar people.
  • Keeping meal times – not being able to eat (only drink) it would be easy to fall out of meal time routine but I’ve remained with the pattern of breakfast, lunch and dinner, trying to vary the drinks I have!
  • Being honest with people – how easy is it to say “alright” or “fine” when someone asks how you are?! I cut down what I say depending on how much time someone has but right now things aren’t ok so I say it how it is. I never want people to lie to me when I ask them how they are, so I treat people how I want to be treated.
  • Being conscious of calories and nutrients – Feeling low and lacking appetite, it would be easy not to bother with food but I know it’s important. It’s hard work getting in enough calories when they’ve got to be accompanied by so much water but there’s good information online for post surgery dietary intake. Plus I have a good dietitian friend who’s helped me out!

I wanted to write this blog, partly to raise awareness about the chronic nature of mental illness. Even when recovered, it can lurk in the background, we remain susceptible to relapse. I also wanted to let anyone who’s struggling with relapse know they’re not alone, it doesn’t have to be an inevitable black hole. Right now, I’m working hard to stay well, by looking after myself I know things can get better.

Hidden disability, stick person standing

Am I disabled?

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I recently watched a video where 2 people discussed various scenarios in which they would (or woulnd’t) be considered disabled and it got me thinking about my situation.

I have severe arthritis in various parts of my body. A couple of years ago I had an operation that was meant to prolong the use of my left ankle. Unfortunately, it’s so damaged that, even though they did extensive work (microfracturing to try and regenerate the cartilage), it wasn’t enough and the only option I have left is to have it fused (they’d literally fuse the bones to prevent the joint moving). We’re putting off that operation as long as possible by using an external brace (orthotic) that does the same job, the joint is completely immobilised but I can take the brace off if I want to, for example, wear high heels!

The pain in my neck and back is kept to a bearable level by painkillers and physio but this doesn’t mean it doesn’t impact me on a daily basis. Of course, it hurts physically but chronic pain is mentally draining too. I also have chronic fatigue that means I have to consider the level of activity I can manage but this is still a work in progress and I frequently overdo things. See this blog for how much time and effort go into managing chronic illness.

But – do I considered myself disabled?!

On the surface, no I don’t. I just get on with my life. I have a fairly standard life, nothing particular spectacular but I’m content and I do most of the things I want to do.

The social model of disability looks at whether there are things in society, either physically, or the way the world works, that dis-able someone from functioning fully. But how far should we expect society to bend in order to accommodate one person’s needs?

Simple images of disability examples, person in a wheelchair, brain, sign language, person with cane.

For some people it’s obvious; if you’re in a wheelchair and the only way into a building is via stairs, the environment is disabling your entry into the venue, a ramp or lift is needed. But what alterations would someone with a learning disability need, or autism? How about changing the configuration of the office to accommodate someone with anxiety disorder? What flexibility would you offer someone managing epilepsy? What if someone needs different alterations on different days depending on how their condition is impacting them? Society tend to be confused by hidden or changeable conditions such as mine.

If I had my way, I would have about 36 hours each day, I would sleep for an extra 4 hours, I would use 4 hours to do the things I want to do (hobbies, socialising etc) and the other 4 hours would be spent resting. But this is not something society can offer me!

I work part time, part of the reason for this is because I’m studying to be a counselor but this is an evening course so in theory I would continue working full time and fit course work in around my paid work. However, levels of fatigue dictate this isn’t possible, working part time means I can share my energy between my commitments. With part time work comes a lower salary, I would prefer to work full time, I have the intellectual capability to work full time in a much higher paid job but my health doesn’t allow this – what “reasonable adjustment” that would solve this one?

Sometimes disabilities are invisible. A line of people with labels “ADHD”, “Fibromyalgia”, “Dyslexia”, “Crohn’s disease”, “Arthritis”

My ankle orthotic means that slopes and some steps are awkward – my foot and knee have to work harder but I can’t expect the world to be designed to suit my needs, can I? I find it much harder to stand on public transport because my ability to balance is impaired but no one can tell I need a seat so don’t get me started…! Very few weeks post recent ankle op I was non-weight bearing, balancing on crutches on the underground, did anyone offer me a seat?? I’ll just leave it there!

My orthotic is very well designed to fit inside standard shoes but I’m restricted with the type of shoe I can wear, I could probably do with a left shoe half a size bigger than the right but I don’t want to buy 2 pairs of shoes!

Evenings are a tricky time for me. Pain and fatigue are at their worst and getting to bed on time is important. But I don’t want to miss out on social activities or hobbies. I find it very difficult to send my apologies when I’m “tired”, I don’t want to be seen as unreliable or considered a flake, that’s not in my nature. I’m more likely to push myself beyond my limits because I’m intolerant of my restrictions. But I can’t expect evening activities to be brought forward so that I’m not constantly pushing my body further than it’s really capable, can I?

If I was being obnoxious, I could say that society is disabling me by not providing me with specific adjustments for my needs but I don’t know what entitles me to adaptations?

Another method for measuring disability is whether you could just “up and off” if the worst happened. Could I cope with just the clothes on my back in an unfamiliar environment?

Multiple medications coming out of a pot

Most people with chronic illness are reliant on regular medication, I am no exception – I take a multitude of medication everyday and (when errors have occurred with supply) me off meds is not pretty! Without my thyroid hormone, after a few days I start to slow down, the list of problems is extensive: blood pressure irregularities, low body temperature and memory problems being just the start! Without daily migraine preventative, other painkillers and psychiatric medication, functioning is very difficult, if not impossible!

I manage my mental health to such an extent that I would now say I’m recovered. However, maintaining my health requires certain familiar routines, I don’t know how I’d cope in an unfamiliar environment. Knowing me, I think I’d cope fine for a few days, I’d turn my attention to supporting other people but after about 2 weeks my cracks would start to show, as my energy ran out, my coping mechanisms would break down.

I don’t think I identify as disabled but it’s interesting to think how my life is different because of my chronic conditions. Other people find life a lot easier than I do, perhaps I could ask them to make alterations so we’re on more of a level playing field but I’m not bold enough to be that person who stands up and demands the world adjust for me. It’s different in America, an environment without alterations is unusual but in the the UK we still expect the individual to stand up for themselves. I find it easier to struggle on rather than face judgments from people who don’t want to help me out.

Why do we need rewards to look after ourselves?!

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After my recent ankle arthroplasty I struggled with the expected pain, a lot of it but it was bearable. I was working hard at my physio and doing more, she told me I would obviously experience more pain but it really wasn’t feeling right, she told me to persevere but I don’t think she really understood how much pain I was in. I may have a low pain threshold but I have a very high pain tolerance. I experience a lot of pain, I just get on with my life but that doesn’t mean it’s ok or that I’m ok with it! It’s hard to know where to draw the line, how do you know, when you’re rehabilitating, how much pain is too much pain? I was pretty much told, I should keep exercising but absolute agony was the line at which I should stop!

Speaking to a colleague about his painful knee has had me thinking. He was injured 4 months ago and because he didn’t make a fuss when he first went to A&E he’e been through months of pointless pain, finally culminating in an MRI that concluded he needed surgery. He’s been thinking he should have made more of a fuss, if only he’d limped into A&E stating he was in agony, he would have had an MRI within days and surgery so much sooner. Those of us that don’t complain so often don’t get what we need.

I’ve been wondering if I was experiencing more pain than I should have been but my physio said it was fine, to be expected.
I was beginning to think I would be in pain for the rest of my life and I was beginning to get to used to the idea that I may never run again. Disappointed, doesn’t even begin to come close.

I saw my surgeon last week and he had a different opinion, I should NOT be in so much pain. Steroid and local anaesthetic injection on board and…I’m pain free, I can’t quite believe it!

When my physio said “repeat this exercise 20 times or more”, I do it 60 times and she says “good”, to be honest, I don’t think she was used to patients actually following through with their exercises but I’m so desperate to get better I thought the more I did the better and she seemed to agree…I can’t help wondering I shouldn’t have been doing so much exercise, I guess there’ll be no way of knowing.

Anyway! Today, on a totally pain-free ankle, I (with more measured advice from another physio) tried running for the first time in 5 months, it was for 1 minute at a time and I’m so excited that I didn’t feel any pain. This is the first time for many years I’ve run with no pain!! So excited, it’s unreal!

I have promised my husband I won’t push it. I will stick to 1 minute at a time for 2 weeks and increase it so slowly I’ll feel like I’m running backwards! But the hope is, I will be back running properly within a year!

My husband knows I’m likely to want to push myself. For starters, I got on the treadmill earlier and said to myself I’d to 2 x 1 minute stints, I ended up doing 5… it’s not don’t any damage and I’m still pain-free but I really cannot push it! I cannot risk needing more surgery.

We started talking about whether I need an incentive…for every week I’m “good” and stick to the slow build up plan, is there anything that would help me stay focused? We discussed all sorts of things but it occurred to me, what more incentive do I need than to look after my health?

Why do we always need incentives? When people are giving up smoking, it’s suggested they put the money they would have spent on cigarettes in a jar so that they can spend it on a big holiday or some new clothes, there has to be something to aim for. It’s the same with people trying to lose weight, for every pound, there has to be some material reward. Reducing the chances of long term life limiting illnesses just isn’t enough!

Our health gains are intangible and it’s like they’re just not enough.

I’m so proud of my 60-something mum who has just completed a couch-to-5k program and has done a couple of Parkruns, being one of the fastest women in her age category! That’s what I want to be doing in 30 years time, but I won’t be if I don’t look after my bones and my joints now, what more incentive do I need?!

Seriously, if I want the best chance of avoiding further surgery and to be running in my 60s, I need to take it slow and steady so that’s what I’m going to do, no other incentive necessary!