When I returned to
work after the Christmas break, in January 2011, I didn't feel right. I
couldn't put my finger on it. I carried on as usual, thinking maybe I just had
a few too many late nights at Christmas.
Two weeks in, I went
to Southampton at the weekend to see friends. One of them was off to Venice for
a student exchange. I noticed my glands were up and knew I was going down with
something. By Monday, my tonsils were feeling inflamed too, so I phoned in sick
and went to the doctor, in case it was tonsillitis. My GP said it didn't look
bad enough to be a bacterial infection, and that it looked like a virus that
was doing the rounds. She said to take a couple of days off and then I'd be
fine.
But I wasn't. I was
good and took the time off, but a week later I found myself back in her office
once again with the familiar fatigue having started to set in. We tried some
antibiotics. We tried different antibiotics. Eventually she tested my blood again.
Low vitamin D. Supplements. Still nothing. Cancer scare. That revealed that I'd
had glandular fever again. An explanation for the tonsil swelling, and
prolonged fatigue.
But by this time I'd
been off work several months. The fatigue hadn't gone away like it had before.
Other symptoms were starting to creep in. My legs often felt like jelly. Then
they started giving way. My glands hadn't settled down. I began to notice that
how much I did affected my symptoms. They got worse if I did too much, but I
couldn't get a handle on what was too much. I couldn't understand my lack of
energy. I began to get frustrated. Any improvement was destroyed because I
thought I was getting better and started doing things again. Still I didn't get
it.
Slowly I began
noticing headaches, concentration problems and minor memory lapses. Random
aches and pains, a couple of dizzy spells. And still the relentless, severe
fatigue and need for sleep.
I nearly attempted a
return to work, but before arrangements could be made, I caught a cold. I'd had
another virus the month before. Infection after infection ensued, each one
making me progressively more debilitated. After I'd had a cold, I would get out
of breath just climbing the stairs. This went on for weeks. When improvement
came at last, it was only small, and then another infection came anyway.
I slowly began to
realise I might not be going back to work. I slowly began to realise I couldn't
walk very far and needed a wheelchair. I slowly began to realise how much help
I needed with stuff. I slowly began to realise I was disabled.
I had a big relapse
in October 2011. I went very pale, struggled to climb the stairs again, got
exhausted standing in the shower. I had to rest a lot, especially in the
mornings when I struggled to function. The glands in my neck and chest were
swollen and painful. My brain didn't work properly. My legs didn't work
properly. My arms ached from cooking an evening meal. Months before, I had
already given up most of the household tasks to my now-husband.
At last, I gave in.
I stopped fighting it. I agreed not to go back to work. I applied for
Employment and Support Allowance. The pressure was off, I relaxed and rested. I
finished planning our wedding via email and the internet.
In the spring of
2012, I improved a little. Tentatively at first, but then it was clear I was a
bit better. My cheeks had colour, I could walk a little bit further and
sometimes I didn't need to rest in the afternoon. It wasn't good enough to go
back to work, but I thought maybe I was getting better.
I knew getting
married and moving house would take it out of me. By August 2012 I was worse
again, but stable, and not as bad as I had been before. I was confident I could
improve again, and planned to do a proofreading course with a view to working
from home.
But as the dust
settled, it was clear I was still struggling. I was constantly frustrated at
how little I could do in a day. My to-do list kept getting longer. In September
I got a virus, and at the beginning of October a winter relapse took me once
again.
No comments:
Post a Comment