Tag Archives: ME
30 Things About My Invisible Illness You May Not Know
Well, I’m a few days late (and more than a few dollars short). I’ve been working on this post for a week while not feeling well, but I’m determined to finish. Invisible Illness Awareness Week was last week and, in an effort to raise awareness, invisibleillnessweek.com has put together the “30 Things About My Illness” questionnaire below. The website offers support to patients and caregivers through articles, podcasts, illness lists and links to associations and resources. You should check it out!
30 THINGS ABOUT MY ILLNESS:
1. The illness I live with is:
Myalgic Encephalomyelitis. I have other conditions, such as mast cell activation disorder, thyroid disease, dysautonomia, hypoglycemia, IBS, dysmenorrhea, and chronic intractable migraines but these are speed bumps in relation to the Mount Everest that is ME. Undoubtedly, all these problems are connected in some way.
2. I was diagnosed with it in the year:
I was diagnosed about one year ago.
3. But I had symptoms since:
ME hit me one night like a freight train around 11pm on Halloween night, 2011. One hour I was fine, the next hour I was in the grips of what I thought was a very bad virus. Chills and drenching sweats lasted all night and… the rest is history.
Years before that, I had dealt with thyroid goiters, anaphylaxis and vasovagal syncope, but they were just blips in my otherwise healthy, normal life. ME changed that.
4. The biggest adjustment I’ve had to make is:
I could say losing my career, my social life, traveling, my income, the future I envisioned… But, really, the hardest adjustment has been a life with minimal energy expenditure: the loss of walking, running, talking exuberantly, emoting, gesticulating… I hate this still life.
5. Most people assume:
Most people assume I’m being antisocial. Most people assume that I worked too much, hit a wall and walked away and am just uncommunicative. Only my family and closest few friends know the extent of what happened to me.
6. The hardest part about mornings are:
The distressing, sinking realisation that I’ve woken up too early (and won’t go back to sleep) and had a bad night. Feeling dizzy before I’ve even opened my eyes. Being greeted with a headache and neck pain before I’ve even sat up.
7. My favorite medical TV show is:
House!! And any real life medical show like Trauma: Life in the ER. I’ve loved that stuff my whole life. They used to show real operations, graphic and unedited, on some show in Ireland when I was young and I loved watching. I’m not squeamish; I always thought I’d be working in an ER.
8. A gadget I couldn’t live without is:
My smart phone. It’s my lightweight connection to the rest of the world: news, blogs, emails, texts, photos, videos and calls. Plus, it has all my meditation CDs on it.
9. The hardest part about nights are:
For the first year I was sick, nights were lonely, terrifying, desperate, viral horror shows. There are not adequate words to describe what my nights were like. Now, the hardest part is the fear that I will not sleep well and will wake the next morning feeling worse.
10. Each day I take __ pills & vitamins.
I usually take about 26 supplements a day (double that for the number of actual pills). Currently, I’m on a vitamin and supplement hiatus, so I am only taking probiotics, magnesium, melatonin, Zyrtec, nasal spray, topical antibiotic cream, and a few times a week, when I have a headache or can’t sleep, I take Tylenol, Unisom, and Tizanidine.
11. Regarding alternative treatments I:
I have tried most of it: acupuncture, massage, craniosacral therapy, reiki, energy healers, meditation, breathing exercises, diet, stretches, Chinese herbs, supplements blah blah blagh. I don’t know what constitutes “alternative”, but I would do anything to get better.
12. If I had to choose between an invisible illness or visible I would choose:
I have a half-written blog post called “Visible Illness” because I look sick ~ or, at least, I look different than I used to ~ and I have caught myself feeling jealous of the “healthy”-looking ME patients I have seen online. However, my illness is invisible in the sense that nobody can see just how bad it is by looking at me ~ especially during the first year, when I pushed through everything to go to work.
Which would I prefer? Neither. Illness is evil and, ultimately, nobody can ever comprehend a sick person’s suffering, regardless of how bad they look on the outside.
13. Regarding working and career:
I never stop dreaming about my next career. I have a different idea every day. I miss working, I miss having responsibility and helping people, I miss being good at something, I miss having the security of an income.
14. People would be surprised to know:
Those that haven’t seen me in a while would be surprised to see that I have gone from an energetic, talkative, happy, demonstrative, busy person to someone who moves very little and doesn’t leave the house. Those close to me might be surprised to know just how black my blackness was this past year and how often I thought about suicide (it took all my guts to write that word. It’s shameful and scary, but true).
15. The hardest thing to accept about my new reality has been:
That I can’t exert energy. That’s it. It rules all else. I can’t find a new job, I can’t make plans for a different life than the one I had imagined, I can’t socialise or cook food or deal with banks or disability or do anything to adapt and move on. I only feel ok if I am flat on my back, not moving. But I keep trying to make progress and those endeavors always cause me to be in pain. And I’m intolerant to painkillers. So it’s a continual try-to-gain-ground-get-knocked-down cycle.
16. Something I never thought I could do with my illness that I did was:
Admit it – admit I was a sick person. Also, there was a time when I wondered if I’d ever laugh again. When the headaches ease up, laughter returns. It’s glorious.
17. The commercials about my illness:
There are none, but there are commercials about fibromyalgia and, of course, they show women able to move freely if they take Lyrica. Imagine the only symptom being achiness! Imagine a pill taking care of it! Sign me up!
18. Something I really miss doing since I was diagnosed is:
See this post. Dancing with my dogs on the beach, eating whatever I want, staying up late, talking nonstop, getting excited, getting angry, having a career, dreaming up future plans, driving myself places, traveling, having financial security… See the recurring theme?
19. It was really hard to have to give up:
I want to say everything in #18, but I’ll change it up and say getting dressed and feeling pretty. I miss a great pair of jeans and make-me-feel-tall boots and thinking my eyes look bright and generally feeling attractive.
20. A new hobby I have taken up since my diagnosis is:
Meditation. I couldn’t live without it now.
21. If I could have one day of feeling normal again I would:
Only one day? So not enough time to go to Europe? Can I plan this day in advance and get my loved ones to come to me? Ok, I’ll assume that’s a yes. Then I would get everyone I love to Seattle in advance and on The Day we would hike, talk, laugh, play games, eat a lot, get rip-roaring drunk, never have to rest and then sleep soundly, deeply, peacefully ~ without a cpap and with my husband and dogs.
22. My illness has taught me:
How under-equipped society is to help the disabled, sick and elderly. It is astounding and harrowing to realise how difficult and time-consuming it is to drive, park, get to a doctor’s office, get home help, get financial help ~ everything! And, when you’re sick, everything costs more, so what happens when you can’t work? I worry about old age all the time.
23. One thing people say that gets under my skin is:
When people say nothing. When friends don’t want to “burden” me with their own problems or don’t contact me because they don’t want to “impose” or don’t text me because I haven’t responded in days/weeks and they think the ball’s in my court or that they don’t want to keep “bothering” me. It is incredibly comforting when someone asks questions about my illness or vents to me about their hardships or gossips about work or continues to let me know they are thinking about me. Once in a while, I would love my husband (and family) to take a break from being the strong caregiver and wallow in a bit of mutual mourning: “This is so fucking unfair! We had dreams and plans! We had only just stopped living paycheck to paycheck! You were so alive and I am turned inside out to see your life force disappearing…” Maybe it’s selfish, but, someone else screaming at the sky would make me feel a little less alone.
24. But I love it when people:
Remind me that, even in this diminished capacity, I am still vital and worthy of being a friend.
25. My favorite motto, scripture, quote that gets me through tough times is:
“As long as you are breathing, there is more right with you than wrong with you.” ~ Jon Kabat-Zinn
Also, my mother once told me she had read that if you have one pain-free day, there is the possibility of being permanently pain-free. I think about this all the time on days like today: Just because I’m having a bad day today, it doesn’t mean I will always have bad days. There will be days again without headaches. There will be days when I can move more freely.
26. When someone is diagnosed I’d like to tell them:
You will improve. That was the first line of an email someone wrote to me and I didn’t read any further, I just closed the computer and wept. I needed to know that life could and would be bearable one day.
Also, I caution anyone recently diagnosed to not read all the horror stories about ME. It is good to raise awareness about the severity of this disease, but, after doing tireless research for months, my fear drowned out what my body was whispering. Stop pushing yourself, rest, listen to your body and believe you will improve.
27. Something that has surprised me about living with an illness is:
How many of us there are ~ in every country, of every age, ethnicity and socioeconomic standing. I am amazed and grateful for how many of us are online, sharing advice and giving support to each other. Sometimes, you lot are all that gets me through.
28. The nicest thing someone did for me when I wasn’t feeling well was:
Not leave me. My husband, family and a few friends have wrapped themselves around me ~ physically and virtually ~ and given me the security that I have SWAT team back-up in this war.
29. I’m involved with Invisible Illness Week because:
I’m quoting Linds: “I think it’s a great way to bring much needed awareness to the struggles others endure. The illness is invisible, not the person.”
30. The fact that you read this list makes me feel:
Honoured. Or honored, depending on where you learned to spell. 🙂
Also check out my other blamily members’ answers to this questionnaire: Jess, Marie, Christine, Luminescence, Trisha… Who have I missed? Let me know if you posted this questionnaire to your blog and I will link it here.
What She Said…
Sarah over at Dead Men Don’t Snore wrote the following excellent post. I thought I’d share:
The Importance of Names
The illness I have is known by many names: Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (ME), Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS), Low Natural Killer Cell Disease and Post Viral Fatigue Syndrome (PVFS) to name but a few. In the UK, the terms ME and CFS are widely considered synonymous while in the United States the term ME is rarely used at all.
It is often said that a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, so when I first heard of a campaign to abolish the term CFS I assumed this was simply dislike of the word ‘fatigue’ which is by no means the predominant symptom of ME. Although I disliked the name CFS as much as anyone I couldn’t help but wonder if it really mattered; surely my symptoms would remain the same regardless what name they were given. The more I learn about the issue however, the more convinced I become that names really are important.
In 1969, Myalgic Encephalomyelitis was formally recognised by the World Health Organisation (WHO) as a neurological disease. The diagnostic criteria required certain neurological features and specifically excluded psychiatric explanations for a patients symptoms. At the time, research carried out by prominent physicians in the field was highly regarded.
In 1970, McEvedy and Beard published articles in the British Medical Journal dismissing outbreaks of ME as mass hysteria due to the predominance of female patients; the same argument once used to dismiss Multiple Sclerosis. Ignoring physical abnormalities found in more than two hundred patients at the Royal Free Hospital, they planted the first seed of doubt in the minds of some clinicians.
The name ME was used throughout the commonwealth, but the illness remained unnamed in the States until 1988 when a cluster of outbreaks and subsequent insurance claims prompted the Centers for Disease Control to introduce the name Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. Three ME specialists present at the meeting refused to sign the new working case definition with its focus on fatigue as it bore so little resemblance to neurological ME. The new name was a gift to medical-insurance companies as it implied the illness was nothing more than perpetual tiredness, a symptom so vague that insurance claims could be easily denied.
Since the 1990s the name CFS has gradually superseded ME in the UK. Many doctors reject the term Encephalomyelitis (meaning inflammation of the brain/spinal cord) even though evidence of such inflammation has been found in patients with ME.
In 2001 it was discovered that CFS/ME had been wrongly reclassified as psychiatric in a UK adaptation of a WHO publication regarding mental health disorders. Despite confirmation from the WHO that this was a mistake, the NICE guidelines continue to offer an almost entirely psychiatric approach to treating the disease.
The psychiatric lobby in the UK ignore well-documented evidence of brain lesions, reduced blood volume and cellular, immunological and cardiovascular abnormalities to insist that ME is simply deconditioning, exercise avoidance and false illness beliefs. Specialist testing (SPECT scans, mitochondrial analysis and tilt-table testing) to confirm physical abnormalities is rarely available on the NHS as doctors cannot justify the expense of tests that don’t lead to any subsequent treatment.
Prominent psychiatrist, Sir Simon Wessely, claims that ME can be successfully treated with Graded Exercise and Cognitive Behavioural therapies (GET/CBT). The government, while failing to fund biomedical research, has spent millions of pounds funding the PACE trials to test this theory. Full data from these trials remains unpublished despite widespread calls for its release.
The selection criteria for PACE excluded the severely affected and those with neurological symptoms but included patients with other conditions such as fibromyalgia or psychiatric disorders. This means few if any of the participants met the criteria for ME, yet the results are being treated as universally applicable. Claims of Wessely’s ‘cure’ for CFS have flooded the media when his trials at best show only moderate improvement in a small number of patients.
Measurable deterioration after even minimal exertion is one of the defining characteristics of ME, making graded exercise potentially harmful. Like many ME patients, CBT made no difference to my symptoms while graded exercise made me substantially worse. Every book or article I have read of CFS patients being cured by GET or CBT described a set of symptoms and a disease process so different to my own that it was hard to reconcile them as the same disease. Put simply, CBT and GET can be very helpful for patients suffering from general fatigue states such as mental health disorders or post-illness deconditioning but if these are the cause of a patient’s fatigue they do not have ME.
Unlike ME, CFS has no internationally agreed definition. The catch-all term encompasses everything from fatal neurological disease to any persistent fatigue of undetermined origin. Definitions of CFS rarely require (and often preclude) physical or neurological abnormalities but may allow for psychiatric causes, making the terms CFS and ME mutually exclusive in such cases.
Chronic fatigue can be a symptom of almost any illness but a single normal blood test is often all that is required for a diagnosis of CFS. It is estimated that only 40-60% of CFS patients meet the criteria for ME. Following diagnosis it is rare for further tests to be carried out and patients receive little support or intervention. This is akin to diagnosing frequent headaches as Chronic Headache Syndrome with no further tests to determine if they are caused by stress, depression, migraines or a brain tumour. It is common for conditions like MS, LYMES Disease and even cancer to be misdiagnosed as CFS, often with irreversable or fatal consequences.
So long as no distinction is made between the many different causes of chronic fatigue, patients around the world will be denied the proper recognition and treatments that their illnesses deserve.
So long as the ill-defined category of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome exists, patients with severe neurological disease, post-viral fatigue states and psychiatric disorders will remain grouped under the same broad umbrella and subjected to one-size-fits-all policies that are useless to some and harmful to others.
So do names really matter?
When patients with serious neurological symptoms are treated as having psychosomatic disorders and end up dying through medical neglect, forced into inappropriate treatments that make them worse, or taken from their families and placed into locked psychiatric wards, than yes, it really does matter.
So I’ll continue to refer to my illness as ME and not CFS in the hope that one day the different pathologies grouped under one vague name will finally be recognised as the disparate conditions many patients and specialists already know them to be.
Over to you:
If you have a diagnosis of ME or CFS (or know someone who does) which name do you prefer to use, and do you think it matters?
What are your own experiences of GET and CBT?
What tests were done to diagnose your condition and have you been offered further tests or treatment since diagnosis?
Mind The Abyss
I highly recommend you watch this. It brought me close to tears. His symptoms are nearly identical to mine… The vertigo, night sweats, crushing headaches… Only he had no pre existing conditions. This evil strikes anyone, it seems, at any time and, if I can recognise this constellation of symptoms, why can’t doctors even talk about it? Why is it such a dirty secret?
http://m.youtube.com/#/watch?v=GyxUVkfZ1Hk&desktop_uri=%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DGyxUVkfZ1Hk
If that link won’t let you open it, you can view it on the Phoenix Rising website ~ it’s the second video down.
PS: Thank you, Curiosity, for posting this video on your blog. xo
