Goodbye to a friend…

Today I am sitting here alone in an empty and quiet house.  And why is that?  Well, sadly just over two weeks ago we had to make the hard decision to put our beloved dog Honey to sleep.

The last picture of Honey taken days before her death
The last picture of Honey taken days before her death

It was a comfort to know that we made the decision that it was in her best interests, as well as taking the pain that she must have been enduring in the final weeks of her life.  However, that does not take away the immense pain of losing a beloved pet, as she was such a big part of our family.  The loss is great, and the loss is even more evident as I am sitting alone in the house whilst experiencing unrelenting symptoms.  Honey was a great source of comfort and companionship on my worst days, especially those that were spent whilst devoid of any human companionship.  Although, if something such as fall were to happen, Honey would obviously be unable to phone or raise the alarm but just the presence of her was a comfort; during the worst falls that I have had over the years, Honey would always come to my aid, well with a quick sniff and lick to ensure that I wasn’t badly hurt before lying down by my side until one of her other humans came home.  On the days where it was just me and Honey and I was unable to get out of bed because of weak and trembling legs, Honey would regularly run upstairs to check on me before settling on her favourite seat back downstairs.  Other times, I would awaken from a nap to find Honey laying on the carpet beside my bed.

Now Honey is no longer with us, and its first time since her passing when I have both been on my own and experiencing one of my worst days and I am feeling much less secure and safe.  I feel like a small child whose security blanket has been snatched from their arms.  Without the dog around to comfort and protect me (yes, every little noise when left alone was seen as a threat to me and would be met with a lot of barking!) it has made this particularly bad day feel that much worse and feel a lot longer than the seven hours I would have spent alone.

For those like me, living with a chronic illness, pets can be a very important presence in our lives.  This is especially considering most of our time is spent in the house, often on our own as those we live with go off to school or work, and we are left in the company of a beloved pet such as a dog.  They help to ease our loneliness that we often feel when living with a long-term health condition, and shines a bright light during the darkest of days living with persistent symptoms.  Honey made me laugh so much, even on the days when it seemed I had nothing to laugh about, but she would only have to look at me with her big, chocolate-brown eyes, or do something funny and it would a big smile on my face.

Honey with a potato in her mouth!
Honey with a potato in her mouth!

Yes, they provide companionship and support, but also they become a substitute for friends in a way, our close allies to attempt to live a full and happy life despite chronic illness.  Our beloved pets, give us their unconditional love and support, and the fact that we live with unpredictable and often severe symptoms does not bother them in the slightest, in fact they often show us more love and affection because we do as they can sense that not all is well with us, and they only want to make us feel better in any way they can.  This has been only been my experience of living with a dog for the fourteen years we had with Honey.  Dogs in particular are incredibly non-judgemental, not caring what we look like or why we have cancelled on plans, unlike a lot of humans that we come across during our everyday lives.

There are an incredible amount of studies that have shown the many health benefits of owning a pet.  For example, it has been shown that pets can lower blood pressure, lessen anxiety and boost immunity as well as increasing exercise for those with dogs when taking them for their exercise!   There are also the social benefits to help kerb loneliness and isolation, such as the ability to meet new people whilst taking a dog for a walk for example.  And yes, I agree that there are numerous health and social benefits to owning a pet, but for those living with chronic illness and/or disabilities they can enrich our lives in so many other ways.

Thank you Honey for always being there during my times in need, and for constantly being a source of comfort and companionship.  Thank you for making life brighter when illness threatened to block out the light,

We will never forget you.

Sleep tight, old friend.

My beautiful dog Honey who provides comfort, laughs, cuddles and kisses during times of illness and being bed-ridden!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

RIP Honey (2001-2016)

Back in the driving seat…

As I have been enervated by symptoms, almost leading to the feeling of being trapped in a prison surrounded by invisible tormentors.  However, I was not only trapped inside my own body; a metaphorical prison whilst enduring persistent and unrelenting symptoms but these were also keeping me inside my home due to their severity as well as the fear of the possibility suffering another fall in public.  It was as if the symptoms were acting as prison guards, keeping me imprisoned in my home and the same four walls in which I already spent the majority of my time to begin with.  I longed for adventure, to experience activity and excitement, like the characters in the books that had become my constant companion as I convalesced in my bedroom.

Adventure. Spontaneity.  Two words that is not synonymous with life with a neurological condition.  Going on an adventure when living with any chronic illness requires planning with almost military precision, and is reliant on a number of factors such as how you are feeling on the day that has been set out for the planned adventure.  Personally for me, big adventures are also dependent on whether or not my legs are being cooperative on the day, and if they are somewhat weak and the wheelchair is needed then it needs to be a mild dizzy day so the motion sickness does not present itself!  Spontaneity is near possible when living with a chronic illness!

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During a short reprieve from my condition and its accompanying symptoms, I made the decision to make a trip to Hay-on-Wye with my carer on a sunny afternoon in late May.  I say that it was a reprieve, but the symptoms were very much there but the severity of them was not as bad as it had been, so it did feel somewhat of a reprieve but at this point it felt that my condition and its symptoms had been very much in the driving seat dictating everything, from how I was feeling to what I could and could not do and I was tired.   I was ready to finally take back control and be the one in the driving seat instead of being the passenger on my own ride.

Hay-On-Wye is a small market town located in Powys, West Wales is a place that I had been before, but have desperately wanting to return to since.  It’s most famous as being the town of books with an impressive number of bookshops adorning the streets of the quaint little town.  As a massive bookworm myself, this beautiful place is like a little piece of heaven for me, and I was really excited to make a return to this mecca of literature.

The many wonderful bookshops of Hay-on-Wye
The many wonderful bookshops of Hay-on-Wye

The day itself was beautiful with majestic blue skies with a warm gentle breeze.  It was a beautiful start, the only problem being my extremely trembling legs, as unfortunately the place being somewhat unsuitable for a wheelchair, meant that I had to rely on what felt like incredibly unreliable legs.  But even that wasn’t going to stop me as somehow despite how tough things have been, I finally found my sparkle again.  And despite wobbly legs, several near falls and major fatigue I had a great time in this wonderful little town.  I  was able to browse the many quaint and unique bookshops, treated myself to lunch and just sat down and soaked in the sights and a little vitamin D.  It was a great day; probably the best I’ve experienced for a long while.

Above all I learnt just how much control I allowed my condition to have on my life, yes, some of this was because I had no physical control over this such as the severe weakness and trembling in my legs.  However, I let myself believe that because of the severe symptoms I was not able to do anything at all.  I thought this was my reality, when in fact it was only my perception of the situation.  On the day I discovered determination and strength I never knew I possessed. It felt like pain had my legs trapped in its vice-like grip, but determined to sought out lots of books, I carried on.   Yes, my legs were weak and uncooperative, ready to give way in a blink of an eye, but there are plenty of ways to still an enjoy a day out.  The use of a wheelchair, for example, or by taking regular breaks as we did in Hay (and the perfect excuse to enjoy a hot chocolate!). We may not be able to enjoy a long day out, or a day out like we used to but with appropriate accommodations we can still enjoy a day out somewhere special.  Are there any perceptions regarding your condition that you think to be reality?

Admittedly, I perhaps overdone things that day given the fatigue and amount of pain I experienced days after but even that cannot tarnish the memories and the experience of the day.  And above all it felt brilliant to be back in the car, even if I’m not always in control…

 

Diagnosis is not the end of the story…

Recently, after another hospital letter landed on the doormat, it was time yet again for a visit to the consultant neurologist, whose care I am under in the attempt to shed some light on the medical mystery that feels has become my life.   The beginning of the appointment was the benign initial chat on how I have been feeling since the last appointment (a really short time to cover a year in just a few minutes!) and the regular neurological examination, including testing of my reflexes, a not so favourite as it always produces the most violent of spasms, increasing the trembling in the legs ten-fold and increases the weakness in them.

After the standard neurological examination was completed and the consultant thoroughly reviewed my extensive notes, which almost resembled the length of a novel and eventually came up with a diagnosis – Functional Neurological Disorder.

For those, who may not have heard of this condition before, functional neurological disorder is a condition in which a patient such as myself experiences neurological symptoms such as weakness, movement disorders, sensory symptoms or blackouts.  Patients exhibiting signs of a functional neurological disorder however shows no signs of structural abnormalities but is rather a problem with how the brain functions.  It is a problem with how the brain is sending or receiving messages.  If we imagine the brain to be a computer, then conditions such as MS or Parkinson’s Disease would be a problem with the hardware, whereas functional neurological condition is a problem with the software.  Just as a computer crashes or becomes extremely slow due to a software bug, neurological symptoms arise when there is an interruption in the messages being sent or received by the brain.

There is much debate on what exactly causes the dysfunction of the nervous system.  Some suggest that there is a psychological component which manifests itself in a physical manner, but is merely a theory to why these symptoms occur.  I suppose that this is one of the most frustrating aspects of being diagnosed with this condition; yes, it’s a label that explains the experience in terms of my physical health, however there are so many questions that cannot be answered.  Reading the literature on this condition there are words such as possible and probable and no definite answers or explanations for the development of this condition.  As I read more and am left with no real answers to my questions, I often wonder if the acronym of FND should really stand for ‘For No Diagnosis’.   And with no such answers, how can we as patients be confident of the diagnosis?  Is it a merely a label that doctors grasp at when they cannot find a definitive explanation of our symptoms?  In my experience, the consultant almost pulled this diagnosis out of thin air.

Interestingly most of the anecdotes from others diagnosed with Functional Neurological Disorder describe how their symptoms often started out of the blue, like being struck by a bolt of lightning after which realising life will never quite be the same again.  However, this was not the case for me, as what started off as minor symptoms slowly became more and more severe, as well as the introduction of new symptoms which was progressive in the same way as the original symptoms.  And there is the big puzzling picture of the early days of my life when the doctors thought there was something wrong with me after I was born, leading to a brain scan at two days old.  Growing up, I always complained about my pains in my legs which was worrisome to me but this was brushed away with reassurances they were merely growing pains.  Surely, these must be important pieces of the puzzle that surrounds my symptoms?

Sometimes a diagnosis can lead to more questions than answers
Sometimes a diagnosis can lead to more questions than answers

 

So what now?  Well, once again I have been referred to specialists for vestibular therapy to help with the dizziness and vertigo.  A therapy that I am no stranger too having been through it several times before.  I am not sure how I feel about this, initially I was reminded of the famous quote by Albert Einstein, “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”    Do the doctors think that now I have a label, therapy will magically work when in the past it had no effect on my symptoms?  But, although I am initially sceptical I will always try my hardest and will try anything for even the smallest of improvement to the debilitating effects of dizziness and vertigo.

I have also been referred to a specialist neurological hospital in London for a second opinion and to see if the consultants there can come up with any answers and more importantly ideas on how to treat or even manage the symptoms that more often than not run the show of my life!

Through my experiences however I have learnt that even after getting a label, diagnosis is not the end of the story…

 

Experiencing Instead of Wishing of Better Days…

Around two weeks, I made pre-arranged plans with my personal assistant to go to the cinema.

On the morning of the day of the arranged trip, I found that the symptoms that plague my everyday life, were dialled up to the maximum volume on my personal symptom-o-metre.  On these days, I would usually cancel such plans and make the decision to go somewhere  safe and familiar – surroundings where I feel comfortable no matter how bad I am feeling, and which are just as comforting as my own home.

Symptom-o-meter!! From mild angelic experience to severe, devil-like experience of them!
Symptom-o-meter!! From mild angelic experience to severe, devil-like experience of them!

On this day however, I made the decision to make the journey to the retail park, which our regular cinema is attached, and see how the day was going to pan out.  I made the decision, not to make plans, but instead, if I made it to the cinema, than great, however even if I wasn’t well enough to attend, I still had a lovely day away from home, browsing stores and boutiques and indulging myself with a special lunch.

The cinema, as expected did not happen thanks to the unrelenting symptoms that was severely afflicting me, particularly the trembling in my legs that did not allow me to walk around the entire retail complex.

At first, I was thoroughly disappointed at myself and the condition with which I live for wrecking my plans in the overly critical way that I often am in regards to myself.  Although, at the time I felt that I lost the battle to my neurological condition, I have come to realise however that this is not the case.  I may not have made it to the cinema, but I did still manage to push through the severe and unrelenting symptoms that I was experiencing and go to a place that can often make me feel uncomfortable due to the size of the place which can often worsen the dizziness that is part of my chronic illness package.

Perhaps by winning certain battles in our lives with chronic illness we can find ways around certain problems to win the battle another time
Perhaps by winning certain battles in our lives with chronic illness we can find ways around certain problems to win the battle another time

Chronic illness often win many battles in our lives; however it does not win all of the battles.  There are many battles that we win; many times we prize the triumph away from the hands of chronic illness and are victorious over defeat.

Think about the last very bad day you had due to chronic illness…

  • Did you still manage to get out of bed?
  •  Go for a shower?
  • Do small chores around the house?

If yes, then congratulations, you triumphed over your illness.  It’s a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.  We need to celebrate and appreciate these small accomplishments as just that – victories over our illnesses that already take so much from our lives, and accomplishing such feats can often feel that we are taking back some control that chronic illness can steal away.

That is the partly the reason for choosing to go out, when it would have been easier to stay in the confines of the four walls where I feel safe when the symptoms are its worse.  I did not want my neurological condition to control my life and dictate how I spend my time.  I want to enjoy life, and not feel that I merely surviving through life as a result of living with a neurological condition. I want to enjoy life and be happy instead of being stuck inside the same four walls with only my symptoms for company and hoping for better days ahead.

Furthermore, the triumphant day out also taught me that I am a lot stronger than I think I am; and that the symptoms does not have to have as much control as I often choose to give them.  That I am able to take risks, and go to places that I did not think I could, as Ophelia says Shakespeare’s Hamlet:

we know what we are, but know not what we may be

We know what our lives are with chronic illness and as an extension who we are because of it.  Perhaps we need to step out of the box that chronic illness imprisons us into to find out what our lives can be like, if and when we choose to take back control that illness removes from our lives.  Who we can be when we refuse to let illness have the main spotlight in our lives.

If we did, who knows where we may end up?

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The Invisible Fight of Illness…

Imagine walking down a busy street.  Look at the faces of the people passing by.  Every one of those people will currently, or at some point in their past, face a battle.  Some of these battles may be visible, detectable to others, eliciting empathy and compassion.  Other battles, however are invisible; concealed from everyone else, like a deep hidden secret.  A battle that is only known by the person carrying the burden of the fight.

Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle...
Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle…

I am one of these people whom are battling an unseen, invisible fight.  If you were to sit next to me on a bus, or train for example, you would never know that I was living with a neurological condition (although you might if I were staggering with my crutch, or on the days where my weak legs confine me to the use of my wheelchair but even then I am met with confused stares silently asking why I am in need of such aids).

The personal fight I face as a result of my neurological condition although may not be visible to others, for me however is very real.  For me it is not invisible; it is my life.  Every step is a struggle, with legs trembling so much that it feels as if they will be buckle, although no one can see.  For others, the world is still, unmoving.  For me, however, the world seems off-balance, as if everything is slightly tilted, and at other times it seems as if there is constant motion.  Everyday I fight against fatigue to do everything that everyone often takes for granted such as being able to go shopping, take a shower or cook a meal for the family.

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“Living with an illness is often a balancing act between surrendering to our symptoms and fighting against them.”

Everyday is a battleground between myself and my body, however, like with any battles in history, there are times I am forced to surrender – such as those days when my legs are so weak, or the dizziness is so severe that I am unable to get out of bed, let alone stand or walk.  Those days I am forced to surrender to my condition and stay confined to my bed.  That’s the thing about living with a chronic illness, it is often a balancing act between surrendering to our symptoms and fighting against them.

It is not just the symptoms that we have to fight.  We also have to fight against the judgements of other people regarding our long-term health conditions.  At the start of our chronic illness journey, we are often met with understanding and compassion, friends and family make allowances for our limitations.  As time passes however, the understanding and compassion dissipates and is replaced with frustration.  Frustration at us still not being well enough to go out and take part in activities we used to before illness took over our lives.  Frustration at the chores still left untouched as illness still will not allow us to attend to them.  My parents, although often extremely supportive and understanding of my condition will sometimes feel embittered at finding certain chores left untouched after coming home from work, not realising that the day has been waived for a day on the sofa as a result of debilitating and unrelenting symptoms.  And they are unaware of this as to look at me, you only see a healthy woman.

It may seem that the neurological condition takes a large amount of space in my life, it however does not own nor control me.  Yes, it may borrow my life at times, restraining me to the four walls of this house I live in, but the condition does nor ever will take my entire life.  There are certain things that I am unable to do because of this condition; certain baggage that it has created, but there are still plenty of other things that I can and have done that I can still do.

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A profound quote from Tangled!

This invisible condition may fight for control for every facet in my personal life.  Now however I have chosen to fight back, and although I have not won control for every area of my life I have chosen to control aspects of my life that I do have control over.  I have chosen to live side by side with my condition instead of merely enduring life with it.

I choose to live rather than simply survive.

Song that is on my self-care playlist
Song that is on my self-care playlist

The (Positive) Memory Book

During my absence of blogging, I have once again been indulging in my love of books and burying myself in the pages of the books that have been on my to-read list for some time.  Prior to this, reading had been somewhat problematic due to the severe dizziness and visual disturbances, that I have been experiencing, and for a while it seemed that my love of reading was another thing that my illness had taken away from me.

However, although the dizziness is still bad and still experiencing visual disturbances, they have eased enough for me to start reading again.  One book that I have recently read was the excellent and highly emotional read, ‘The Memory Book’ by Rowan Coleman.

The gorgeous cover of a wonderful and moving book
The gorgeous cover of a wonderful and moving book

The book tells the story of Claire, a beautiful, intelligent and vibrant forty-something.  Mother to two wonderful children, Caitlin aged 20 and Esther aged 3, and married to Greg, the man of her dreams.  Claire, however is also living early onset Alzheimer’s Disease, and after watching her own father overcome to the disease, Claire is all too aware that life for her and her family will never be the same.

Greg, her husband then buys her a beautiful notebook, which becomes ‘The Memory Book’ in which Claire, and other members of her immediate family to record their own personal memories of the life that they had together, as well as mementos that have had significant meaning in their lives.  The book is not only for Claire to use as a memory aid, but also for the entire family to cherish and remember the life that they all shared together.

The story made me think of my own life with chronic illness.  Living with a variety of symptoms  such as pain, fatigue, dizziness as well as the problems with my legs, all associated with the neurological condition I live with, I have no need for a book to help me remember my life with my condition.  However, often when we are struggling because of not only the physical effects of illness on our bodies but also the psychological effects on our minds, we are often however in need of positive reminders of life outside our bodies and outside the walls that chronic illness creates.

So, how about creating our own gorgeous notebooks, but instead of filling them with memories of our lives. we create pages of everything that help us to remain positive, mementos of happy times and everything else that makes us happy and fills our lives with joy!

Example of a beautiful memory book on Pinterest
Example of a beautiful memory book on Pinterest

Such items could include favourite uplifting and positive quotes and affirmations that bring comfort during difficult periods of your life.  Postcards, photographs and other mementos from holidays of a lifetime.  Letters and cards from friends and family including words of love and encouragement. Lyrics from your favourite song. Objects and pictures which evoke positivity and happiness or are reminders of achievements that have been gained despite illness; reminders that we are more than our illness.  Anything and everything that will help keep your spirits up during difficult periods in your life, such as during bad flares or relapses due to chronic illness.

Much research has shown the positive effects that writing and keeping a gratitude journal can have on our health, and in my opinion a memory book like the one I have described is a natural extension of that.  A  personal beautiful, hand-crafted positive memory book to look through when life with chronic illness feels like too much to handle, I think will help us bounce back from negative emotions and strengthen our happy memories.

The finished positivity book is not the only benefit, but the ability to become creative to produce something meaningful can also be therapeutic when living with the effects of chronic illness as it allows an outlet for all of our thoughts and feelings regarding life with chronic illness and the new limitations that it has placed in our lives.

I have been wanting to create my very own scrapbook for a while, to fill with all the beautiful quotes and affirmations that I have found during my days out with my carer, as well as the ones sent to me by other spoonies and after reading ‘The Memory Book’ it has inspired me to start my very own (positive) memory book!

Now I just need to buy all the materials I may need…

 

If you were to create your very own positive memory book, what items and mementos would you include?  Have any ideas I could use for my own book, then shoot me a message as unfortunately I am not very artistic or creative so would like to make it as easy as possible!  And for all you book-worms out there, then I would really recommend ‘The Memory Book’ by Rowan Coleman, it’s a wonderful read…

The Longest Ride…of life with Chronic Illness

Living with chronic dizziness is hell.  The unpleasant sensation of having your whole world constantly moving even when still takes everything away from you.  Your friends, social life, independence, career plans to name but a few are lost when chronic illness strikes.  Long-term illness pecks away at your identity; taking pieces of things that make you you: the friends you meet, the places you like to socialise and your hobbies and interests.

For me, living with this neurological condition has taken a lot, and one example of something that it has taken for me is being able to go to the cinema and watch a film.  High ceilings, flashing strobe lights, fluorescent lights are just a few delights that can worsen the severity of the dizziness that I endure constantly.  Furthermore, they can also be triggers for other symptoms associated with the brain stem lesion such as vertigo and visual disturbances.  As someone who loves films this is an incredible loss; I mean sure, I can still watch them at home but there is nothing  like going to the cinema and watching films on the big screen, is there?

A couple of weeks ago, however saw the release of the new Nicholas Sparks film ‘The Longest Ride‘ and as a fan of his books and the adaptations that have been inspired by his works, I just had to try and push myself to go and see the movie.

My ticket for a showing of 'The Longest Ride'
My ticket for a showing of ‘The Longest Ride’

As a result, my carer and I attempted for the first time in several years to visit the cinema.  And I am happy to say that I managed it; successfully staying in the theatre to watch the entire film.  I would love to say it was easy, but like everything with living with a chronic condition  it was not.  The dizziness at times was so severe and my vision kept becoming blurry.  All my instincts was telling me to leave and go somewhere my symptoms although would still exist, would be less severe.  But the love of the film, and the beautiful story that unfolded during the two hours (and was also helped by the gorgeous Scott Eastwood).  The film was a beautiful love story about love itself but also the sacrifices that are made for it.

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This achievement may seem like a very small feat given the fact that going to the cinema is an activity that many people partake in everyday.  Healthy people often take being able to go to places such as the cinema for granted as for me living with a neurological condition, it was a big a challenge as someone attempting to scale an enormous mountain.  So, for me personally this was not a small feat, it was a huge win for me in the conflict that chronic illness has created inside my body.  During the course of watching the film it was not only dizziness, vertigo and the visual disturbances I had to contend with but also severe neuropathic pain in my legs (not helped by the lack of leg room) and the trembling in the legs made it difficult even being able to physically walk to the cinema itself.

I was thinking of the film long after it ended, and kept thinking of its title ‘The Longest Ride’.  For me the title was defined by the enduring love between the two characters, Ruth and Ira.  But it also got me thinking of its meaning in my life.  Living with chronic illness in itself is a long ride.  The term itself is clear of this as the definition of the word can be used to refer to an illness which persists for a long-time or is constantly recurring.

From the onset of symptoms, living with a chronic illness is a long ride, consisting of endless doctor’s and hospital appointments, persistent and recurring symptoms (and often the onset of new ones) as well as the ceaseless days of feeling frail and sick.   Imagine an extremely long and persistent road, well, living with a long-term condition is often like making the long ride down this road, and which often feels like there is no end.  The journey towards diagnosis is even a long ride itself, with repetitive appointments with consultants leading to disappoint as medical tests fail to answer the one question we want answered – what is wrong with me?

Living with chronic illness can often feel like travelling on a long road with no end in sight...
Living with chronic illness can often feel like travelling on a long road with no end in sight…

And even after the diagnosis has been confirmed, chronic illness allows the long ride towards not only acceptance of the diagnosis but also to learn how to live with and manage the symptoms of said chronic illness.

Thinking back to the film, and the gargantuan achievement of going to the cinema despite experiencing such unpleasant symptoms that for one makes it extremely difficult to sit and watch a film but also has previously stopped me from enjoying such perks as trips to the cinema, has made me realise that we should not allow our conditions to take full control over our lives.  Yes, chronic illness is bound to take pieces of our old lives and identity and change them, however we should not allow our illness to stop us from doing things that we love.  Yes, the cinema trip was demanding on me physically, affecting me even days afterwards, experiencing a flare in severe symptoms, but it was still worth the trip.  Not only did I manage to watch a film that I desperately wanted to see, but I also defeated my condition reminding me that I am stronger my condition.

Now, I just need a little reminder of the film and the cinema trip to pin to my positivity board to serve as a reminder of the defeat over the dizziness and my neurological condition/  I was thinking of a postcard of the film poster or something so if anyone has any ideas or anything please get in touch!  And if any of you, love romantic films then I would thoroughly recommend ‘The Longest Ride’.