How to keep going.

When I had my appointment last week, aside from feeling seen and heard, the lady I met with showed deep empathy for me. Along with telling me I made my condition look classy with my new sunglasses, she also commented that it takes a very strong person to endure the situation I’ve found myself in. My mind battled with the thought that she was being patronising and the fact that she was in fact showing me validation and encouragement for my strength. I went with the latter, because ultimately what she said made me feel good and a little bit proud of myself.

The truth is that while enduring immense levels of pain on a permanent basis is in itself fucking hard work, it’s in fact the toll this takes on your body and your mental health that should also be a main concern.

It’s something I’ve had to think about since being told I would be undergoing a psyche evaluation. I do not know what the purpose of it is – is it to determine the impact leaving me in this pain has on my mental health, or is it to determine if my mental health will impact my ability to cope with such an extreme surgery and recovery? The answer I do not know, but it is one I will ask at the start. Then I can determine exactly how much of my mental suffering to divulge.

I think anyone coping with a chronic illness, particularly chronic pain, will attest to the fact that it is the mental battle that can break you. I can’t cope with the pain, but I am currently left with little choice on the matter. When I lay in my dark room with my kindle I can almost convince myself it’s not that bad. I can lose myself in a book or a visualisation meditation and with my focus elsewhere I am less focused on the debilitating pain radiating through my face and head. This is my coping mechanism for the pain. It’s not medical or scientific by any means but it’s got me this far.

Arguably there are more options available to fight the mental battle, but I don’t often outline what I do or what I have done to get me this far. The pain is the pain, it’s sometimes worse but never better. There’s a kind of certainty and consistency that can bring comfort. You know what to expect. The impact the pain has on my mental health though is far from consistent and offers no comfort. Regularly throughout the last 18 months I reached points of suicidal thoughts and have had to step up to bring myself out of it. Each time these thoughts creep back in they are worse – more convincing. What I mean to say is that I have gone from ‘I can’t live like this anymore’, where I then snapped back with a ‘yes you can, we haven’t tried everything yet’ to ‘I wonder what the process is at the Swiss suicide clinics’ or ‘I’m glad I tidied my room, it’s one less thing for someone to have to do when I’m gone’. They’ve increased in severity and sincerity.

So every time I become aware of them I know I have to up my counter battle. I increase my therapy sessions, I increase my anti-depressants, I write in my blog and I let those around know what’s happening. Shedding light on these thoughts has several benefits. The first being that by exposing them I take away the fear of them. Much like shining a light under a bed to convince your child there’s no monster to be scared of. The second and arguably the most important is that by telling those closest to you what’s happening in your mind you are also building an army. A safety net. You are no longer fighting them alone, you have reinforcements and you know that those around you will keep you safe. This is key to survival.

When these thoughts start I confide in my therapist and we up my sessions to 3 times a week. Generally I have two sessions a week. She reminds me that if I get at all twitchy at the thought of finding my end then I must call her immediately. During these times I also ensure that if my mum is working from the office that my Dad comes to visit or I go and read at his. Again, use your safety nets. I then contact my doctors to discuss my medication dose if it is particularly bad. I hate more medication, but used in the right way that can and do help. And there’s no shame in help.

BUT the other thing that is vital is to do what you can to prevent these phases, for that’s what they are, they come and go. My obvious preventative measures are 2 therapy sessions a week, a strict medication schedule, an even stricter sleep routine and most importantly, love. I surround myself with love, because it’s very hard to give myself love sometimes. I give and I receive wherever possible. Of course my time is limited, despite having immense amounts of it on my hands. Each week I have a social schedule, I will try to see friends and family at least 3 times a week, generally with at least day in between. I try to make sure I see each friend at least every two weeks as any more I start to feel like it’s been years. Maintaining these connections is what has kept me going. Knowing I am loved and ensuring to nourish these connections. I also think laughter is a great healer, so I ensure that with every interaction I have that it leads to laughter. True, unfiltered, tear inducing laughter.

There are other, often overlooked, things that can also protect your mental health. I’ll start with my favourite, it’s social media. There is immense power in social media and it is often used in the wrong way. I don’t often scroll, because it’s mentally draining, but these last few days my social media has been filled with hateful and harmful comments and posts about Sam Smiths Brits outfit. I have a very simple rule I try hard to follow in life, if it causes me and others no harm then do what you like. People are vicious, particularly with the ego boost you get when someone positively reacts to your comments on social media. It’s largely a place where people feel safe to say what they would only say behind closed doors. So I rarely scroll through it, I log on, check what my friends have posted and then it’s off again. I have message notifications turned off and I have time limits set for access to each app. Once times up I can’t access it until the next day, though I have never reached the limit yet. I also mute people on my friends lift whose posts don’t uplift me and unfollow all pages that share content I don’t feel good about. Basically if it doesn’t make me feel warm and fuzzy and instead makes me feel heavy or angry then it’s gone. No second chances.

I am also largely a routine person and if something doesn’t fit my current routine then feel off balance and anxious. Like to offset my time in bed I ensure every evening I’m downstairs in my recliner either reading or watching tv and having dinner with my mum. I don’t like to deviate from this much. There’s a safety that comes from my routines and if an event comes along to beak this routine then I need details, times, locations, exact plans, and more details. My routine also ensure I take my meds on time, as taken them a mere 60 minutes late can have unbearably painful consequences. Of course you may read that and think well she’s a little bit anal and needs to relax a little. But right now, for the good of my survival, I will be anal about my routines. Perhaps when I’m better I can take the day as it comes again or go out on a whim. But right now, that’s not beneficial to my well-being.

In the interest of being honest, I must also tell you about the greatest weapon to keep me fighting my suicidal thoughts. I’ve discussed my army of safety nets, aka the friends and family who have supported me every step of this journey. But I haven’t yet mentioned my greatest weapon. Bella. Obviously it was going to be Bella. Aside from the fact that she has been glued to my side since July 23rd 2013, she is my greatest friend and gives me purpose each day. She ensures that each day I am never alone, making sure that I am awake for both hers and my meds, breakfasts and cuddles. She makes sure that I am repeatedly up during the day to tuck her back into her duvet, thus increasing my movement. She’ll never let me forget it’s nearing dinner time and also makes sure I’m aware of any knocks at the door before the person has entered the drive. This then gives me the extra time required to make my way down the stairs to greet them. On days when I haven’t got any social activities planned she also makes sure I still reach my laughter quota for the day. She has taught me more about grace and patience these last 18 months than some may learn in a life time and has taught me to enjoy the little things. The fresh breeze and it flows through my clothes and hair, the smell of the outdoors after a bloody good downpour, the way the birds serenade my sunset walks with my darling Bella by my side. This, no she, is my greatest ally in my battle for survival.

I know I am not alone in my fight to want to keep going. I know that someone reading this might be right their own battle, you might be fighting your own battle. But keep fighting, take every step possible and apply all available measures that help you in your darkest moments. Build your own army and use those safety nets. Every person has their place on earth and it’s there’s alone. No one else could possibly fill the place that was created specially for you. The same as everyone has their own individual purpose. You have a purpose. You might not know what that is yet, but when you do you’ll know the importance of you filling your place here. You belong. You are special and you belong.

A good friend recently told me a few things that I believe everyone needs to hear at some point: (I’ll let you decide which is more appropriate to you!)

“Imagine what your life could look like a year from now if you just keep going.”

“You haven’t explored your gay side. You can’t check out without finding out what you like.”

A story to be continued.

Sometimes I wonder if I knew what might happen to me before it did. It’s seems like the only sensible explanation when I think back to what I did with my time in the lead up to getting the vaccination.

Fresh out of another lockdown and heading into summer. It was May 2021 and my brother and his family were preparing to move to England, away from the beauty of Scotland. It was at this point I decided I would drive 12 hours straight with my trusty sidekick in tow and help them out. Giving me to opportunity to show Bella some of what Scotland has to offer – a taster for journeys yet to come. I spent a week there, helping them pack their lives into boxes and joining them on final visits to their favourite restaurants and cafes. I had my fist bubble waffle – smothered in everything chocolate obviously – along with fish suppers, fantastic take away portions and lunch at the nicest dog cafe on the seafront.

In between helping out I’d spare myself a few hours a day to travel with Bella. In Scotland you can be fairly certain you’re only mere miles away from some natural wonder that will feed your soul with the greatest, warmest energy. Of course being a driving enthusiast, or enthusiastic driver 🙄, I made sure to take the scenic route through the Cairngorms a few times. We stopped to visit Burn O’Vat, basically a big bowl with a nice waterfall feature, where Bella could run through the trees, pee in natural springs and then get ungracefully carried through to the Vat. Because she’s big, scary and also a little precious. We visited a shipwreck on a beach where there were hundreds of seals hanging around. She got to race around in the sea and along the beach with no cares, other than the occasional break to remind the seals a mile down the beach that from that distance she was in fact fearless. We visited castles, ruins, many beaches and cliffs and absorbed as much of the pure, cleansing atmosphere and air as our lungs and souls could hold. On the promise that there was a meal and loving family to share the rest of the trip with.

I so very rarely take time off work, it’s even more unheard of for me to take a holiday. But a mere two weeks after I returned I took the jab. Something prompted the urge to take this trip, somehow knowing the chance to do so again would be nothing but a dream for a long time to come.

I also excelled in my training. I got kicked started as soon as the gyms were back open with a fresh drive to simply fall in love with lifting again. I never fell out of love and enjoyed every session I’ve ever had, but somewhere my joy got put aside in my pursuit of medals and titles. This challenge to myself seemed to make me some times forget to simply enjoy the process. In focusing on the enjoyment I in turn achieved PBs in both bench and deadlift. Stripping back what I knew and returning to fundamentals and the technique. Just the week before I finally nailed the 70kg bench with significantly more finesse that previous attempts.

It seemed I filled my time with things I love, things that make me me and with those I love too. I reminded myself of what I want from life, how I want to spend my time and how I want to feed my soul. How to create joy within myself and all around me. And to take Bella to a place I love the most.

Some how, I just think I knew I needed to do these things and more. To start creating the life I want. To lay the foundations ready for me to continue where I left off. Some day.

The road to our future

I’ve had a mixed bag of a week. So I’ll start with the good.

On Wednesday I met with my neurosurgeons registrar. I couldn’t tell you her name but she was lovely, and honestly was the best healthcare person I’ve had so far. She was so calm and understanding, showing sympathy and a clear desire to help me. Which is exactly what she intends to do. The route to the implant isn’t straightforward, due to the kind of operation and the complexity of my case. First of all I have a consultation with an anaesthetist from the Southmead pain clinic on Tuesday. I’m informed he’s very good and should also be able to help with my meds. Another appointment is being arranged for me to undergo a psyche evaluation. Not something I’m looking forward to as I don’t want my mental health to go against me but it’s part of the process. Following these my case will be presented to a board who will then make a decision on whether to grant the implant.

It’s the most positive I’ve felt following any appointment, she assured me our goals were the same and will fight for me through every step. I felt so reassured, seen and heard. She couldn’t give me an idea on time scales but ultimately I believe we’re heading in the right direction to finally give me a chance at a future. Whether the implant works or not is yet to be seen, but I certainly deserve the right to give it a go.

Than the sad stuff. On Tuesday Bella was in for her vaccination and a health check. I ran a few things by the vet, various behaviour changes in Bella that in truth have been very irritating. Not following her normal bedtime toilet routine, repeatedly waking in the night for absolutely fucking nothing and seemingly forgetting some of her training randomly. He asked a few probing questions, whether she was more anxious, nervous of exploring during some walks etc. and then he broke the news that it all pointed to signs of canine cognitive dysfunction. Dog dementia. I’ve been getting annoyed at my dog and was asking for behaviour advice and all the while she was wasn’t being belligerent – she had no idea what she was meant to be doing and might not be able to sense that she needs the toilet.

She’s also suspected to have arthritis in her hips, though we’re going to adjust her exercise routine to try and gauge the severity. I’m so angry, not only and I missing out on what should be the best years of my life but so is Bella. So has Bella. She’s otherwise remarkably healthy, and the vet predicts another 5-6 years of her being my sidekick. It’s just the unknown of what those 5-6 years will look like for her. My grand plans of taking her for all the old walks we used to do for hours on Saturday mornings are no longer possible and the fear that at some point she might not recognise her favourite people or places. Or might be too anxious to enjoy them.

This whole situation has been so unfair. The suffering I’ve had to endure and that Bella has patiently endured beside me. Graciously accepting a change in routine and pace to stay beside her mum. I’ve been so aware of how my situation has affected those around me, including Bella. Wracked with the guilt or not being able to continue the adventures she’s was used to. But knowing that those adventures no longer have a place in her future is beyond cruel. This huge loss for my darling Bella has made me far angrier than any loss inflicted on me.

That being said, I now understand her and her new ways. This understanding has entirely wiped any frustration with her away. She’s clearly picked up on it, and my upset, as she’s remained glued to my side since her appointment. She’s never left my side, but she’s back to wanted to be on me or next to me near permanently. Of course there are things that can be taken to slow the progress of both disease’s. Something that will be discussed again in 4 weeks time with the vet. I’ll do my best for her, same as I’ve always tried to. For now I will just hope that the decision to give me the implant in granted soon and that I can get better to ensure that these next years of Bellas life are filled with everything she loves and deserves. I will ensure she doesn’t have the chance to forget the ones she loves and the places she enjoys. That she’ll be comfortable and content. Always.

Time is all I have.

I’m 28.5 books into the new year. That 89% of a book a day. It’s hard to quantify how much of my time is rendered unusable due to my condition, but that kind of does. That’s how much of my time I’ve been unable to do anything other than be stuck in my dark bedroom with my kindle and dog for company.

A week today I go and see my neurosurgeon to once again request the implant. Except this time it will be less of a request. I’ve been delaying preparing myself for this appointment but I need to face up to it. I will go in there ready to fight for a very expensive surgery that I don’t just want but that I need. And one I deserve and earned the right to have. I’ve been through all the options they didn’t believe would work, at the detriment to my mental and physical health. They all in fact increased my pain.

I want him to fully understand and see the impact this condition has. Because it’s not just pain. It’s the loss of time, time which has become my most valuable commodity. It’s the loss of experiencing life to its full during what should be the most fun years of my life. I will not let another year go lost. What better way to highlight how much of my time is lost than being able to quantify is exactly how of my time has been lost in 2023 so far.

I have so much time on my hands and so little of it is useable. That’s not fair and is no way how someone who hasn’t hit 30 yet should be living. Or thinking. I said previously when I do fix this I’ll write a book and it’s because when I’m better I’ll be able to tell my story without judgement. I’ll be able to laugh and joke and see the good that has come out of this pain. While I’m in this pain, you only need to read these blog posts to see that it’s extremely hard to write without the judgement, fear and anger. So next week I’m going to fight for the chance to change all of this. A chance to look back at this time for the lesson it was and the growth that came out of it.