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Back in the driving seat…

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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 are 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 learned 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 seek 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 a 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…

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Diagnosis is not the end of the story…

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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, a 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 to 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 skeptical 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 learned that even after getting a label, diagnosis is not the end of the story…

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A New Normal…

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For a couple of days this week, imagine my surprise that I awoke to no trembling or even pain in my lower limbs.  None of the severe shakiness that makes me feel that I am balancing on jelly.  No sign of the often debilitating pain that feels as if my legs are being squeezed in a vice, and which makes me wish that I could tear my legs off and discard them as many young children do with their dolls.

For these couple of days, my immediate thoughts after waking and realising that neither of these disabling symptoms had returned were “So that’s what normal feels like!”  I had forgotten how it felt not to experience disabling pain and trembling in the legs.  They had become such a part of my life, that without it, it felt almost strange (although was welcome if it was only for a couple of days!

However that it is not to say I have always experienced these particular troublesome symptoms or to this degree as I haven’t, although I had struggled with them for so long now I am unable to recall when they first started.  That’s the thing with living with a chronic illness; the unusual and disabling symptoms soon become the norm and part of our daily lives.  Life with chronic illness slowly become our new normal.

[Tweet “That’s the thing with chronic illness; the abnormal slowly becomes our new normal.”]

A lot of people have experienced some moment in their lives when it feels that their lives have been divided into a before and after, whether it be through a bereavement, injury, illness or some other life event. A moment in their lives where they have to adapt to a new normal, the lives which they once knew becomes a chapter in someone else’s story.

Image: Google
Image: Google

Perhaps what is most difficult when living with a chronic illness is that we intermittently experience a glimpse into our lives before illness struck and its onset of debilitating symptoms.  Times when our symptoms are mild, or even nonexistent and reminding us of our old normal.

[Tweet “The times when our symptoms are mild, we are briefly reminded what our normal looked like.”]

However, this preview of our ‘before illness’ soon ends and again we’re back to our new reality of pain, fatigue and the other symptoms that make up our conditions.  It’s we have a brief glimpse into an old, familiar room before a door being slammed shut before we had a chance to step inside and familiarise ourselves with our past surroundings. A preview of an old life that although can be seen it is out of our grasp.

When given a chance to experience aspects of our past life, however, what is most surprising is that it no longer feels normal, it feels odd as if that life no longer belongs to us.  When living with chronic illness, the abnormal soon becomes the norm and without us even realising, we forget about our old normal.  When experiencing our old normal, therefore, it feels unnatural and strange, as if that life no longer fits.

The new normal just becomes normal; erasing our past life and who we once were paving the way for life with a long-term condition and who we are now.

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2016: A Year of Hope

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Presents have all been ferociously unwrapped, the Christmas decorations have been taken down, and 2015 has been erased to make room for a new start that 2016 promises us.

Just like in the sand, 2015 is being erased to make way for 2016
Just like in the sand, 2015 is being erased to make way for 2016

It’s been a time of reflection, in which we acknowledge the people, events, and the changes that helped to define what the year has meant to us, as well as a time to look forward to the future and all the hopes and possibilities that it may bring.

In my notable absence from blogging, I have been experiencing some of the lowest points in my journey of living with a neurological condition.  The pain and trembling in the legs has been so bad that it has almost overpowered everything else; overpowered in a way that concentrating on anything has been increasingly difficult.  There have been so many moments that I wished, like a faulty computer I could simply press CTRL+ALT+DEL to reboot my troublesome limbs.

From Pinterest
From Pinterest

Consequently, most of the Christmas period was spent on the sofa, doing my shopping online and enjoying the overly cheesy and sentimental films that the festive season brings. Of course, all of these festive films are all essentially different versions of the same clichéd premise: chaos ensues into the lives of the film’s protagonist only for it to eventually remind them what is important in life as they emerge from it a better person.

It's A Wonderful Life is the ultimate Christmas film
It’s A Wonderful Life is the ultimate Christmas film

Furthermore, these Christmas films, also emphasises the importance of hope.  The hope for a happily ever after.  The hope of children that the myth of Father Christmas is real, as well as the hope of presents under the tree on Christmas morning

The concept of hope and acceptance is important in the chronic illness community and one which I have mentioned in previous posts.  The hope that despite chronic illness and its limitations upon our lives we are still able to find purpose and carve out a successful and fulfilled life.  That is not to say that we all hope for a miraculous recovery or cure from our ails, as this very often the case would be extremely remote, but hope for a better tomorrow despite the circumstances of our lives.

This year I choose hope...
This year I choose hope…

It is strange that before the deterioration of my symptoms within the last few weeks of 2015, I had thought I had reached acceptance of my condition and wore hope like a badge.  However, like items such keys or our mobile phones, hope and acceptance can become mislaid and we are once again navigating the ‘stages of grief’.  It is a continuous cycle of ups and downs in which our journey to acceptance starts again and again.

We are now at that time of year when New Year Resolutions are made and trying to be kept!  Often these resolutions are not meaningful, unattainable and are completely out of reach of our expectations.  But what if we focused on how we would like to feel during the year instead of what we would like to achieve?  By focusing on our ‘core desired feelings’ we are much more likely to achieve our goals (if these goals are consistent with how we want to feel).

Many people are doing this by creating a ‘one word‘ for the year.  A word to focus on every day for the 366 days of 2016.  One word that perfectly epitomises who we want to be or how we want to live our lives.  The choice of the word is important as for the year, it will become a compass in life, as it directs your decision-making and guides you through each day.

My word for the year is…HOPE.
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I had thought that HOPE is something that I live with every day, as I live with the neurological condition.  However, after reflecting on this last relapse, and its effect on my emotional health, I realise that like many other people experiencing difficult times, hope is something that I feel is out of reach.

However, during 2016 I would once again like to pick up the torch of hope and run with it for the duration of the year and through the finishing line at the end of this year. Yes, hope is often difficult during the trying days with a chronic illness.  But I also think that hope is an important word for those navigating life with chronic illness, as if one has hope then it can lead to many other things, such as acceptance and peace for example.  William Wordsworth once said ‘not without hope we suffer and mourn’, and I for one agree as in the times I have been without hope during my own personal journey with illness, life was much more difficult; mourning for an old life that was no longer mine to live.

This year, I intend to focus on the positives despite living with a long-term condition.  To appreciate and embrace the small achievements made and accept that these small steps have an impact no matter how insignificant, and furthermore to see these small steps as building blocks to bigger achievements.

I am starting this new positive and more hopeful outlook by creating my own ‘happiness jar’ in which I am going to write all the good and positive things that are going to happen during the next year.   These notes will be then placed in the jar and on New Year’s Eve, only then I can open the jar and marvel at all the wonderful events that have shaped the year.

Image: Pinterest
Image: Pinterest

I would also like to see this year as a blank slate.  To not look at the past failures and bad times that 2015 saw, and get caught up with the things that I did not achieve, but rather see the new year as a fresh start, with endless possibilities and opportunities to explore.

And as I experience bad days due to unrelenting symptoms, I will focus on my one word and remember that it is just a bad day, but it does not have to mean that the entire year will consist of days like them.  I will focus on hope and move forward with life; neurological condition and all,

What is going to be your word for 2016?

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Sailing Away to Acceptance…

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How does the old saying adage go?  What a difference a year makes. And, my recent experiences can only substantiate this.

Regular readers of the blog will remember that last year, I experienced my very first cruise and that unfortunately, it did not go as well as my parents and I had hoped.

The symptoms associated with this neurological condition were consistently present and remarkably severe that it affected my enjoyment of the holiday and also left me unable to disembark the ship and see the beautiful places that I was so looking forward to visiting.

Fast forward a year (okay more like a year and a half), and I am back from yet another cruise! Why go on a cruise when the first one did not go well, I hear you ask.

Well, the large part of the reason why I decided to go another cruise, is that I refuse to let the neurological condition that I live with have any more control over my life than it already has.  I came across, a perfect quote that sums this up brilliantly; this quote says “Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.”

And it is true, if we only stayed within the confines of our comfort zones then we would never know what we can be capable of, or what we can achieve when given a chance.

[Tweet “If we only stayed inside our comfort zone we would never learn what we are capable of.”]

comfortzone-quote
The symptoms that are as a result of the brain stem lesion already makes life difficult, for example, visiting certain types of places such as those with high ceilings and fluorescent lighting are very challenging for me as they increase the severity of symptoms such as dizziness and vertigo.

As a result, I do not wish for my condition to stop me from doing anything else that I want to do, including taking trips abroad.

Flying and therefore requiring to spend hours waiting in an airport would not be compatible with my symptoms so consequently, a cruise offers an alternative for me to be still able to travel. Furthermore, the rational side of me also realised that although I found the first cruise particularly difficult, it does not necessarily mean that I would have the same experience on future cruises.
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Back last year, just a few months after arriving back from the Mediterranean, my parents and I booked a second cruise with Royal Caribbean on their brand new ship Anthem of the Seas travelling this time around the Canary Islands (as well as stops in Spain and Portugal).  And I am so glad that I did!

This cruise went much better than the last one and even managed to get off the ship twice, leading to spending a few hours perusing the streets of Tenerife and Madeira.

The process of disembarking the ship and then having to find our way to wherever we wanted to visit was not easy especially giving the severity of the symptoms, but I still managed to push through and achieve something I did not think I could do.  To some, getting off at only two stops may not seem like much, but fellow spoonies would appreciate the enormity of this feat, especially when battling constant and unrelenting symptoms.

Anthem of the Seas is a fantastic and beautiful ship, and Royal Caribbean has seriously gone hi-tech.  Before embarking on the cruise, we bought an internet package, and was impressed with the speed of the bandwidth, enabling me to stream movies and television programmes on my iPad occupying my time when fatigue set in (which was a lot!.

The WOW factor did not stop there, however; all over the ship, there was amazing artwork to marvel at, often feeling like Alice landing in Wonderland.  What I love about Royal Caribbean, is the thought that has gone into the design of their ships; all public areas are fully accessible and have automatic doors making it easy for those in wheelchairs to be able to navigate their way around the boat unaided.

The food was also stunning and particularly loved having a wide variety of choice of where to have dinner.  We sampled the delights of the majority of the complimentary restaurants onboard but spent most nights dining in the American Icon Grill.  One night, however, we chose to pay extra and ate at Jamie’s Italian where the food was delicious and the staff attentive and friendly.

The highlight of the cruise for me, being a fan of Queen was seeing We Will Rock You, which was incredible and rivaled any West End show.  My Mum and I also paid extra to use the facilities in the spa, which included an aromatherapy steam room and sauna, as well as the use of hotbeds which not only did I find incredibly relaxing but also really helped ease the often excruciating pain in my legs.

Beautiful sunset
Beautiful sunset

Strange though isn’t it?  Last year, I was unable to get off the ship and generally found the whole cruise experience extremely difficult.

A year on, however, and despite my symptoms not improving in that time I found this holiday much more comfortable, even managing to push the boundaries of my comfort zone.

Why is this? Perhaps the reason is that during the past since the first cruise I have managed to push myself further, expanding the perimeter of the small world that my neurological condition has forced me inside.  Examples include conquering going to the cinema, a pastime that I used to love but is now extremely difficult for me as a result of my severe and unrelenting symptoms and as a result started to avoid.  By pushing myself to go to places and placing myself into situations that increase the severity of my symptoms, and achieving staying in them, reinforces the belief that I am stronger than my condition and can get through stressful situations.

[Tweet “By going beyond our comfort zones shows us that we are stronger than our illness has us believe.”]

Or perhaps I have reached a new, deeper stage of acceptance.

Accepted the reality of the diagnosis of a long-term neurological condition  – that is not to say that I have given up and surrendered to the disorder but rather let myself go of the suffering that came from continuously fighting against the symptoms and the hold that they had over my life.  I have accepted that I will always have difficulty with certain situations and the majority of things will not be easy for me, but what I can control is my reaction to them, and by doing so I can learn to be in control of my symptoms instead of them controlling me.

[Tweet “Acceptance has helped me learn to be in control of my symptoms instead of them controlling me.”]

Believe. Love, Live, Dream, Inspire - some positive words advice from Royal Caribbean
Believe. Love, Live, Dream, Inspire – some positive words advice from Royal Caribbean

In the end, I had to accept the reality of the symptoms; accept the long-term presence of them in my life.  And by doing so, I no longer fought the presence of the symptoms but acknowledged their present existence at that moment.  I have freed myself from the prison of fighting against the symptoms, and avoiding certain places and situations has placed me in.

By accepting the reality of life with a long-term condition surprisingly made it easier to cope with the symptoms and all of the ups and downs as a result of living with a chronic illness.  I was able to find little coping strategies that helped minimise the effect of the symptoms and help me stay in control of the symptoms rather than the symptoms controlling my life.

Of course, there are days when it feels that the symptoms still have control over my life but by accepting the reality of life with chronic illness, getting through the bad days is easier than before.

Above all, going on holiday on the cruise of a lifetime has made me realise that being diagnosed with a chronic illness, or disability does not spell the end of our lives or even our dreams.

Yes, perhaps the route to which we can reach our goals and dreams may have to change, but we can still reach that final destination.  Chronic illness should not mean the end our dreams; we can still follow them if we took a leap of faith.

[Tweet “We can still achieve our dreams and ambitions if only we took a leap of faith.”]

It is this realisation that I came to while on holiday – if I took the easy option and decided not to go on the cruise then I would never realise the strength and control that I can have over FND and its symptoms.  And if it weren’t for that, then I would never have the opportunity to visit a country that I have wanted to for so long – Norway!

Yes, we have booked yet another cruise for next year to the beautiful and amazing country that is Norway.  And this trip I can look forward to with excitement and positivity instead of anxiety and trepidation.

So all of you reading this – don’t give up on your dreams, believe me, you can still achieve them despite the challenges in your way.

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