Life is full... full of surprises...

So it has been forever since my last post. Well things have been rather hectic.

So let me start from the beginning.

Last time I wrote I had devastatingly just lost a baby. Lets fast forward a couple of short months.

At the beginning of December, my partner had an upcoming operation so I was due to stay with him to help him while he recovered. Two days before the fateful operation day I woke up several times in the night feeling so bloated I couldn't lie on my stomach. I love sleeping on my stomach, I am unsure how anyone else sleeps in any other position, weirdos!

I had had enough, I couldn't stay in bed any longer, so up I got. Toddled off to the bathroom, to take a wee. A few minutes later I staggered back to the bedroom, stooped down next to my sleeping partner, and gently called his name. He stirred. I held out my hand towards him. "You better survive your surgery on Wednesday, because you will have a baby to look after" whilst a shaking hand held out the positive test.
"Yeah?". And he fell back to sleep.

A say somewhat louder "is that the best you can come up with?"
"I thought you were holding a needle and going to inject me with drugs, I was scared!"
"What?! Then why didn't you try moving or something? You are scared of needles"
"I dunno, I was really tired, congratulations!"

Not the excitement I was expecting!!

Two days later, it was surgery day. It was only a tonsillectomy but I was scared for him. I had had a tonsillectomy myself some years before and it most definitely wasn't a pleasant experience. I almost died on the operating table, then suffered a lovely infection that paralysed my entire face and I could only scream. Let's just say it wasn't a pleasant experience and move on.

So we were supposed to be at the hospital for 8am. They rang us to say they would call later in the day to let us know what time to turn up as they had a lot of surgeries booked. At 3pm they called to say we could go in and eventually at 5pm they were finally ready for him to go down to theatre.

I kissed him tenderly goodbye outside the theatre doors, trying not to cry from anxiety and hormones. I didn't want him to suffer like I did. As soon as he went through those double doors I took a few steps down the hallway back to his ward and broke down in tears. Crazy thoughts kept running through my head. What if he died during surgery and I was left a single mum? But then what if all this stress made me lose yet another baby? I tried to pull myself together and stumbled back to the ward and waited for news. It wouldn't be long, I was out of surgery and back in my room within 40 mins when I had it.

A lifetime had passed. Well actually, nearer two hours. And every minute was slow, drawn out, angst-ridden. I went to the reception desk. "Erm, my partner went down for surgery almost two hours ago now, is there any news yet?"
"he's still in surgery, I don't think people ever realise how long a tonsillectomy takes!"
"I was only in surgery 20 mins when mine were taken out 5 years ago"
"Yes well..."

"I went and sat back down. What on earth was taking so long!!"

40 mins later and I was a total wreck, but I heard a trolley being wheeled down the corridor. Ears pricked I listen carefully awaiting the bed to materialise. There he was on the bed, sat up like a sultan arriving on an elephant. I ran over and kissed his cheek. "I have been so worried about you, you were forever!"
"I knew you would be, I've been awake for about an hour and a half but the staff were busy so I've just been sat in recovery waiting".

We sat chatting for hours, him slightly high on the drug cocktail they had him on. I had missed that dopey face of his, that hair with the white streak, those beautiful eyes... After a while I knew it was time for me to go, the rest of the ward were winding down for the night and although I was desperate not to leave him, I kissed him goodbye and left.

I jumped in a taxi and went to Travelodge, texting each other as I went. I realised I hadn't eaten all day. That can't be good for the baby! So ordered a pizza, and booked myself in for the breakfast buffet in the morning. It was necessary for the baby, right? Finally, after eating my pizza I sloped up to the room and climbed into bed. I slept well and awoke panicked. I checked my phone and the man was awake and awaiting a doctor to discharge him. So off to breakfast I went.

A couple of hours later I got a message he had been discharged but was waiting for his meds. Gah!!
"What meds are they?"
"Co-codamol"
"Well that's paracetamol and codeine. We can get that over the counter. Just leave it."

Shortly we were at the train station, him looking shattered and me relieved to have my man back by my side. We were on our way home. I would dote on him and he wouldn't lift a finger and I would cook him healthy, nutritious food. He would recover quickly and we would live happily ever after.

Three days later he turns to me and says "You know, my tonsillectomy went much better than yours did. I haven't had any issues at all. You had no reason to be worried!"

That night his son woke up having a dream. He takes him back to the bedroom and comes back to bed. We fell back asleep.
Something slapped me.
As I stir I hear a muffled word... "blood!"
I turn round. "Is it much?"
He runs to the bathroom and starts coughing.
I go in and there is blood everywhere. It looks like a murder scene. He is haemorrhaging. I grab my phone and ring 999 and order the ambulance. They want to speak to him. Blood is pouring out of his mouth guys!!!
I go grab his phone while he mumbles to them and I ring his ex-partner. I clock the time - 4:30am.
"Hey, sorry to wake you, I need you to come get the kids. Ant needs to go back to hospital NOW!"

I wake the kids, and grab their bags and shoes and guide them down the stairs trying not to let them see their father who is sat in the bathroom directly outside their bedroom door with blood pouring out of his mouth every few seconds between muffled words. "Daddy isn't feeling well and mum is on her way to get you".

I have them wait outside in the cold December air waiting for their mum to arrive. The paramedics turn up and they saunter up to me "up the top of the stairs, the door is open. Just walk on through".
Their mum turns up moments later and the kids are gone. I rush up the stairs to find him on the way down the stairs coughing up blood everywhere. I tell them I will be down momentarily. I run around and sweep for necessaries. Shoes for me (his trainers are the first I find), my phone, his phone and the door keys. On my way to the ambulance, I follow the trail of blood.

Nack in the ambulance the crew still saunter about nut now he has a bag to cough up the blood into. The blood is coming thick and fast. So thick there are clots the size of large plums stuck in his beard. I have honestly never been so scared in my life, but there I am rubbing his arm and telling him everything will be ok. Because it will, right? By this point he has filled two bags with blood.

Shortly later we arrive at A&E. They take him through and I am left in the corridor once again, sobbing, so scared. I know nothing of what is going on. Medical staff start turning up in pjs. A female member of staff walks past me, clocks me crying and heads on in. She comes back out 5 minutes later.
"Do you want to come in and see him? We don't normally do this but there are no other patients at the moment"
I hurry off my seat in, you don't need to ask me twice!

There my beautiful boy is, covered in his own blood and the coughing up blood is vastly reduced thanks to some drug they had been injecting him with but he appears ghostly white now. I'm stroking his face, assuring him everything will be ok. More staff join behind, and although I am saying reassuring words I am also listening hard to grasp as much information as I can.

"... his veins are shutting down, I struggled to get a line in..."
"What are you waiting for? I want him in my operating theatre now"
"We are waiting for a surgical team."
"We've got an anaesthetist *points at young man stood across from him* and a surgeon... me! I want this man in surgery in 5 minutes!"
"You can't operate without more staff. We need nurses and stuff"
*more people hurry into the room, some clearly have only been awake a short time*
"Look! More people. Get him into my operating theatre now!"

Panic is rising deep in me. The surgeon is clearly worried and my precious man is looking so pale and tired next to me. I too, am urging them to hurry.

The anaesthetist comes over to us and my partner turns to him and says "If it's not completely necessary don't give me a blood transfusion. I am a blood donor." I could have kissed him if it wasn't for the fact he was covered in blood coming from his mouth and I was concerned about infection. This man was sat there, white as a sheet, haemorrhaging blood and he was worried about being able to donate blood to other people. And he is scared of needles! I have so much love for this muppet.

Within minutes we are heading to the theatre doors, I kiss him goodbye once more "you behave yourself in there or you will have me to answer to, alright?!"

I am stood on the same spot outside the operating theatre as I was 4 days ago, still sobbing. The same thoughts entering my head. Is this groundhog day?! What if he died during surgery and I was left a single mum? What if all this stress made me lose yet another baby? I stumble into the toilet and check for signs of blood in my knickers. No baby could survive this stress. I tried to pull myself together and stumbled back to where I came from.

"Erm excuse me, my partner has just been through here and has now gone to theatre. Where do I go for when he comes out?"
"Go home, there is nothing for you to do here"
"I came by ambulance like 20 miles, it's 6 am. I have no money on me, and its a little early for me to try catching buses across the city to the train station anyway. Besides, I want to be here when he wakes up."
"Well give me your number, and go sit in the cafe. I can ring you if there is news."

I wander off feeling hurt and confused. Why would I leave my man here and just go home when I am not even sure if at this very minute he is even still alive?! Of course I wasn't going to just leave!

I pace around the cafe sobbing. I just can't stop sobbing. An hour or so pass and I am sat at a table. Glancing at my phone every 2 seconds awaiting it to ring. I glance up and see a familiar face. It's the anaesthetist. He spots me and motions he is coming down to me. He arrives at my table and shakes my hand. "Surgery went well, he had a small tear in his throat, that with pressure tore open to the size of a pound coin. He lost an estimated 25% of his blood but he's doing well, but it must have been so scary for you to watch."
I'm sobbing so hard. "Thank you, thank you so much, you really don't know what it means to me."
He smiles and leaves. "They will ring you when you can go see him."

2.5 hours pass and I am still sat in the cafe awaiting that phone call. I just need to see him and know he is okay. I need to see him with my own eyes. I spot a nurse wandering around and I run over to her. "My partner was taken for emergency surgery hours ago and I know he's out and I am pregnant and need to see he is ok and I am just so worried. Could you find out if he is ok and if I can see him? I don't know where he is."

She makes a quick call, he is in resuscitation but it is quiet in there as they have no other patients, so I am being allowed to go see him. Just this once. They don't normally allow it.

The kindly nurse has to use her card to get me through various doors in a winding corridor. Staff look at me confused as I walk through behind her. I shouldn't be here!

Through a final door. "Here he is!"

I rush over and kiss a rather bloodstained cheek. I notice that the nurse stood next to him has been trying to make him "presentable" as we made our way over. "Please don't worry about all the blood, I was trying to clean him up for you"
"Oh don't worry about that, there are no massive clots coming out of his face with pints of blood anymore, this is a vast improvement to how I last saw him!"

I help her change him into a new gown (there is blood all over his back - clearly theatre was just as messy as I had seen him before), and scrubbed his face of dried blood. I decide there is no point in trying to clean up that beard, it needs a good wash, no wipes are going to fix that! But my man was talking to me, tired, but talking to me. He was everything I needed. I stayed with him for around an hour, but then another patient arrived. It was time for me to leave. He was only still in resuscitation as they were waiting for a bed on a ward. So off to the cafe I went, before a visit on the ward before I went back home to the flat.

I arrive back at the flat, following the trail of blood all the way to the door. As I open it the stench hit me. A strong, metallic smell. The stench of blood. I walk through to the bathroom and start running the sink taps. The blood is covering the bowl, thick clots filling the plug hole. I start scrubbing. My glorious man cannot return to this mess! I scour for every drop I could find. On the toilet. The curtain. The doors. The door frame. The carpet.

The following day we go to pick him up, again waiting for meds. Why does it take so long? Why can't they just offer to give you a paper prescription to take to any pharmacy so you aren't taking up precious bedspace?

Shortly my wonderful man is back home with me, and again I am caring for him, making sure he eats well and puts his feet up! This time he makes a fast and full recovery and I could not be any more grateful to the surgical team at Worcester Royal Hospital for their fabulous surgical team who looked after him and patched him up so he could return home to me and his children. We will be eternally grateful!

No words...

No words can truly explain how I feel right now.

Today I lost my baby. And no, despite my usual forgetfulness, I didn't leave it in the supermarket or somewhere in the depths of my oversized handbag.

On Monday I was receiving fertility testing with my local GP. The night before I took a pregnancy test, just in case. Negative. So off I went, off to the doctors, lead on my back with my legs apart feeling very elegant and classy. She ran some swabs and had a good look. Everything looks normal, no sign of infection. I have already been cleared of PCOS. So she does swabs for chlamydia, BV and my acidity levels, along with ordering some blood tests for me on Friday. Before leaving she asked how I felt generally. Well to be quite honest, absolutely exhausted. Must be all this stress or something.

Tuesday I went to my partner's house and he met me in town before we walked back to his. Half way I had to stop and rest.

Wednesday I went out with a friend's kids for a couple of hours, got home feeling sick and fell asleep for several hours. Woke up so angry I was THIS exhausted. It is ridiculous. It was like a dropping sensation of exhaustion straight through me. Angrily I got up and grabbed a pregnancy test. I don't know what is causing this exhaustion but I WILL find out. I peed in the pot and dipped in the test. Laid it down and after a few moments I looked at it. Negative. Well its not that. What the hell is this new level of exhaustion? Too exhausted to throw away the test I ranted at my best friend over whatsapp. I glanced over a minute or so later. A dirty mark on the test caught my eye. On inspection I notice it is a faint line. A FAINT POSITIVE LINE! I jump up and grab another hcg strip. I dip and watch it more closely. I quickly spot an identical line forming. OMG!! I AM PREGNANT!! I rang my partner, telling him the weekend plans are now changed... No getting drunk with him. I have to be well behaved now!! I download a pregnancy app that tell me my baby is just the size of a poppy seed. My little poppy seed.

Friday I ran through town before my blood test, pot of urine in my bag ready to brandish it at the nurse. I grabbed a better test from super drug, paid and quickly left. Hid in an alley and instantly a darker line appeared than those I was used to. So I ran to tesco to buy a clear blue digital with weeks indicator. Hid in the toilet and waited for the little screen to announce to me how pregnant I was. 1-2 weeks. Squeeeee!! 1-2 weeks since ovulation, meaning in doctors terms I was 3-4 weeks pregnant. A quick calculation could work out the weekend I conceived, thus giving me a solid 4 weeks pregnant. Oh how exciting!! I went to the nurse who ran a hcg test and got a faint positive (well these hcg tests are crap!!), but she congratulated me, booked me in for a phone consultation with the doctor on the following tuesday and sent me on my way.

Saturday I meet up with my partner for the first time since that phone call. He finds me flaked out with exhaustion and nausea, halfway to meeting him and walks over and kisses me. Perfect!! We stop off at his work on the way back to his flat so I can pee. Pink discharge greets me. I start to panic. No, no, no, no, no, no, NO!! This is not how it is supposed to happen!! I go back and sit on the bench with him to tell him the news. A woman is stood feet away from me holding her baby. I feel distraught and overwhelming jealousy. We go back to his, and I notice no more spotting has occurred. A quick google search tells me lots of women get a little pink discharge throughout pregnancy. I calm down. Before falling asleep my partner rubs my belly and says "good night baby, or should I say babies". I inform him he has just cursed me to have twins, giggle and kiss him good night.

Following morning everything still seems calm. Awesome!! I walk back into town to catch bus home. I finally get home and spotting has reappeared. Slightly darker. I go to sleep for a few hours. Upon waking I feel a "blub" feeling. I run to the bathroom to see a large piece of discharge and a little darker pink. Its a weekend so my doctors isn't open. I am not running to hospital at 4 weeks pregnant. Later that night all seems calm again. I must be overdoing it all. More rest needed!! Battling the nausea I go to sleep, but thrilled I have nausea as it means my hormones are doing what they should be.

6:10 I wake. I feel down to check. Blood. I run to the bathroom. Nothing on knickers but upon wiping a lot of stained discharge. I see a few small clots. At 9am I ring the doctors. She said she could fit me in at 12:30 as an emergency, can I bring a urine sample in.

I sit down the river awaiting my partner to come down and meet me with a thousand things running through my head. I walk to the pharmacy and grab a pregnancy test. I test the pot of urine that is in my bag. A very faint negative, but this is a better test than the hcg strips. My heart breaks. It has been ripped out of my chest and stamped on. My baby. My little poppy seed. I think of all the women who happily have abortion after abortion without a second thought, and the women who have beautiful, healthy babies and treat them awfully, abusing them, allowing other's to abuse them. Rage washes over me. WHY DO THEY GET BLESSED WITH A BABY BUT I GET MINE RIPPED FROM ME?! I want nothing more than to hold my baby in my arms and protect it forever. Loving it entirely. Not caring if they are gay, or want to be a binman... as long as they are happy and healthy.

My partner arrives to find me sobbing and praying to every spiritual being to ever be known to undo this tragedy I am going through. He hugs me.

We arrive at the doctors, at 1pm I get taken in. I ask my partner to let me go in alone. He does not argue. She feels my stomach, looking for tenderness suggesting an ectopic pregnancy. She finds none. She asks me to undress. I have never felt so revolting. Lying their semi naked, feeling a pool of blood between my legs. She probes me telling me my cervix isn't open. I don't even care. She takes my pulse and blood pressure. They seem normal. How can they be normal? My heart is broken. Shattered into a million pieces. She tells me to expect heavy bleeding and period pains greater than I am used to. Tears roll down my face. I leave. Holding my breath trying not to cry further. I look at my partner in the waiting room silently communicating for him to follow. He does so without a single word. We walk silently down the stairs and I stop at the bottom. I turn round and just hug him never wanting to be let go. I've literally lost part of me. So tiny. A poppy seed. But it felt like my soul had been ripped away. Surely a person's soul is so much bigger? A poppy seed is so small. But it meant everything to me. I can't even explain the internal agony I feel. Is it all my fault? Did I do something wrong? Am I being punished for something? Am I so much of an awful person I don't deserve the thing I have spent my life dreaming about holding in my arms? Why can't someone tell me why this is happening to me? Why can't something be easy for once?

I got to enjoy being pregnant for less than a week. I imagined what it was looking like in my mind and how it was developing, how I would look blooming in pregnancy with even bigger breasts and a fabulously big bump, hypothetical names (I sensed it was a boy), imagining the smooth sailing labour, getting to take the bundle home with me, first baths in the tummy tub, breastfeeding and singing lullabies. But all I am left with is ruined knickers and a broken heart. There are no words that can quite explain how pained I feel, and no words can take away my pain. I am grieving for a baby I lost today. The baby who's hand I never got to hold, but held my heart so tightly.

It is all about ME

I know it has been a very long time since my last post, however I have been a little tired.

Recently I have been diagnosed with Myalgic Encephalomyletis or M.E. for short. Many years ago this was called the yuppy flu and lazyitis. Not much is understood about M.E. at present. So what is it?

Myalgia means muscle pain and Encephalomyelitis means inflammation of the brain and spinal cord. The cause of  M.E.  is not currently known. There are various theories - but none has been proved. A popular theory is that a viral infection may trigger the condition. It is well-known that fatigue is a symptom that can persist for a short time after having certain viral infections. For example, infection with the glandular fever virus or the influenza virus can cause fatigue for several weeks after other symptoms have gone. However, most people recover within a few weeks from the fatigue that follows known viral infections.

Even if a viral infection is a trigger of M.E., it is not clear why symptoms persist when there is no evidence of persisting infection. Also, the symptoms of many people with  M.E.  do not start with a viral infection.

It is estimated that  M.E.  affects about 1 in 300 people in the UK, possibly more. It is about three times as common in women as in men. The most common age for it to develop is in the early twenties to mid-forties.. 

There is no test that proves that you have M.E. A doctor will usually diagnose  M.E.  based on your symptoms. Some tests are usually done to rule out other causes of your fatigue or other symptoms. For example, blood tests may be done to rule out anaemia, an underactive thyroid gland, and liver and kidney problems. All these tests are normal in people with  M.E.

The medical definition of M.E. states that symptoms should have lasted for at least four months in adults and three months in children and young adults. 

It may pass after a few months or years, or in many cases may never pass but has periods of remission and relapses, often exasperated by stress, poor sleep and periods of illness. 
What are the symptoms you may well ask. Mine include:

Hypersomnia: This is the need to sleep prolonged periods during a 24 hour cycle, extreme constant exhaustion with unrefreshing sleep. No, not like pulling an all nighter and being tired all day. Since December, no matter how long or deep I sleep I feel just as tired as when I went to sleep. Every day for 9 months I have constantly felt like this.

Memory loss: I used to have a great memory and could recall conversations word-for-word years after they occurred. Now I struggle to remember what I boiled the kettle for, despite there being a mug with a teabag in it right next to it.

Poor concentration and attention span: Films and tv programmes are now out of the question, as is reading paragraphs. This blog will not be proof read, but please don't bother pointing out the mistakes in it.

Joint and muscle pain: This is unlike: I went to the gym for 2 hours but haven't been for 6 months and may have overdone it. This is random with no signs of inflammation or cause. I have had days where even my eyelids ache. Random places ache for no apparent reason, and can be triggered even whilst doing even the simplest of jobs. Often muscle spasms can occur with no release, and some people have found even cortisone injections do not help.

Headaches: Over the last 9 months, I have spent around 6 months with a headache. This is with me when I wake, and until I sleep. Painkillers do not help. Sitting in a dark and quiet room, compresses and massage do not help. 

Reoccurring sore throat: There is no obvious sign of infection or inflammation, however a sore throat is present. For some people, tenderness of nearby lymph nodes may occur without pathological enlargement.

Dizziness (neurally mediated hypotension on tilting): Random bouts of dizziness can occur, the room around me goes back and I can't hear what is going on until it clears.

Nausea: This can be present from waking up all throughout the day, often triggering people to ask me if I am pregnant. This is irritating.

Food intolerance: I now have to be careful eating various foods as I can now get agonising stomach cramps and bloating to foods such as dairy, meat, grains and some fruit and vegetables such as potatoes, tomatoes, peppers and citrus fruits. 

Alcohol intolerance: I have gone from being able to enjoy several pints and been slightly merry, to one double vodka leaving me drunk for 24 hours at a time. This may sound like a cheap night, but the following day as you are trying to explain to people it is 11am and you haven't had a single drop of alcohol in 12 hours as you are not an alcoholic and they look at you with pity in their eyes as you stagger around trying to just stand up straight, this wears thin quickly.

Chest pain and shortness of breath: I go through phases of the muscles in my chest and around my lungs being fatigued and painful that medical professionals have thought I was having a heart attack. Just breathing becomes a lot of effort and painful. Palpitations are often very common and can be unnerving. 

Anxiety and panic attacks: This was discussed in a previous blog but is also a characteristic of M.E. This often has no obvious trigger.

Depression: This may be because you have spent months exhausted, dizzy and in pain, or a symptom in its own right.

Other symptoms listed that however I do not have personal experience include: difficulty sleeping, insomnia, disturbed sleeping patterns

People with M.E. find that many activities leave them fatigued such as shopping, going to work, even domestic cleaning. One 2 hour shopping trip left me unable to function for 3 days afterwards. I also find that after half hour at work I am physically unable to stay awake, and need to sleep for several hours when I return home. I only work two hours a day. I have often found myself unable to complete tasks as simple as cooking.

In severe cases, simple tasks such as brushing teeth can leave the patient exhausted and needing prolonged time in bed to recover. These cases often leave the patient bedbound.

So what are the treatments? Well, at current these involve taking antidepressants, regular gentle exercise, physiotherapy, cognitive behaviour therapy, improvements to diet and REST!

So please excuse my break from the blogging world recently.... I have been a little tired.... and after reading this, I think I need a nap.

Further information and support

ME Association

7 Apollo Office Court, Radclive Road, Gawcott, Bucks MK18 4DF
Tel: 0844 576 5326 Web: www.meassociation.org.uk

Action for ME

PO Box 2778, Bristol, BS1 9DJ
Tel: 0845 123 2314 Web: www.afme.org.uk

Association of Young People with ME (AYME)

9A Vermont Place, Tongwell, Milton Keynes MK15 8JA
Tel: 08451 232389 Web: www.ayme.org.uk

Tymes Trust (The Young ME Sufferers Trust)

PO Box 4347, Stock, Ingatestone, CM4 9TE
Tel: 0845 003 9002 Web: www.tymestrust.org
A national UK service for children and young people with ME, and for their families.

The 25% ME Group

21 Church Street, Troon, Ayrshire KA10 6HT
Tel: 01292 318611 Web: www.25megroup.org
Support for people who have the severe form of CFS/ME.

Being so strong for too long....

This week is mental health awareness week. A cause that is close to my heart.

I have friends who suffer from bi-polar disorder, one with disassociation disorder, numerous friends who have become parents who have struggled with post-natal depression, and then there's me. I too have struggled with mental health problems.

When it is you going through these problems, it feels like you are the only one in the world. This feeling isn't helped by people's perception of mental illness and the taboo nature that encompasses it. People who suffer from mental illness are "mental", "crazy", "tapped in the head" and of course they are "weak-minded".

Some doctor's don't like to diagnose mental health problems, or even believe they exist. Well for a start, it's difficult to see, the patient’s head hasn't fallen off, and they can't see inside their head and see their inner thoughts. So of course people who suffer from these problems are making it up... attention seeking.

After my second formal diagnosis of clinical depression I was told at a review by one doctor "we all have bad days, we get on with it and don't sit about moaning about it". Charming! This is exactly what you want to hear from a professional, when you are asking for their help. Luckily, I do not pay any attention to this woman. One friend's mum had gone to her asking for a breast reduction because her spine was crumbling due to the weight and was told "I have large breasts, you don't see me running off for cosmetic surgery". I don't recall said friend's mum asking if the doctor wanted the surgery....

Research suggests that 1 in 3 of us will suffer from mental health problems at some point in our lives. This means that in some way we may all be affected from mental health issues, whether it is us ourselves going through it or loved one going through it while we sit and feel helpless.

Research also suggests that those with above average intelligence are more prone to mental health issues than those of below average intelligence. I must be a genius then....

From the age of 7 to my early teenage years I struggled with anorexia. I still have some food issues, like I can’t deal with some textures, such as egg white, mushrooms and things with mixed textures such as peas mixed with mashed potatoes; I have to eat food in certain orders (such as veg first, then carbs then protein); some foods are off my list on principle, like butter, lard, most meats; and if I’m harassed to eat something, I won’t eat at all. However, this didn’t prove to be my biggest problem.

 At 19 I was first diagnosed with clinical depression. I was constantly in tears, which is unusual for me, as I don't cry. I'm too strong for things like that!! All I really wanted to do was sleep, I had no energy for anything. I was sleeping for 16 hours solid a day, only awake long enough to go to uni before I would crash out again. Typical student then, yeah?

I was put on some lovely anti-depressants to help level me out. Instead things went quite dark for me. I was emotionless. I couldn't cry, even at the death of the closest person to me. I couldn't laugh in my reasonably new relationship. I couldn't feel happy at romantic gestures, or have an opinion on anything. I felt nothing about anything. I took myself off the anti-depressants and as the effects wore off over time, I gained my opinion back and my sense of reasoning. Instead of going back to the doctors I went for hypnotherapy. This was brilliant for me. I gained some control over my emotions again, however the blow of miscarrying bought it all back for me. With the support of my partner, some herbal and holistic remedies and a close network of friends I learnt to control my depression better.

In 2009 I started suffering panic attacks at exactly 2:30am EVERY morning. I would wake up with tightness across my chest, heart feeling like it was going to explode, breathing so hard trying to catch my breath that wouldn’t come. These would last around 5 minutes until I managed to calm myself back down in the spare bedroom as not to wake my partner. These continued every night for around 8 months. It would take me hours to drop back off to sleep and I had to be up at 7am to go to work. I was constantly exhausted. But finally at the end of September 2009 they stopped after a huge blow and a mental breakdown.

I was at a close friend’s house who was suffering from physical difficulties and I had gone round to clean her kitchen for her when I received a text from the partner saying “I’ve left you Kym, I’ve taken the stuff. All the best.” He then turned off his phone so I couldn’t contact him. 11 words to end a 4 year relationship. It had come completely out of the blue. That morning when I left the flat, he kissed me, told me he loved me and to text when I wanted to be picked up. No arguments, no degrading of the relationship, everything was normal. Then two hours after leaving I received that message. I continued scrubbing the oven.

The friend went and picked the kids up early from school and booked a taxi to take us back to the flat. He had packed up my life in less than two hours and had left his key in the letter box. He had taken not only his things, but items that had been left to me by family members, items from my childhood, the things I had worked hard for. He had taken a lot of random things like pieces of my clothes, the wooden monopoly board, dvds, recipe books (despite he had only cooked one meal in the 4 years we had been together) and even my bubble bath. I didn’t cry, I didn’t scream, I didn’t get angry… or anything.

That night I stayed at my parent’s house. I was lying on the floor in the living room and kept looking at my phone, as on the screen was a score of how strong I was. It was a huge comfort to me as I wasn’t in my own house, or my own bed or have my little comforts around me.

At 2:14am it hit me like a sledge hammer to my face. How stupid was I? I was so exhausted from months of lack of sleep and the stress of the day I had lost my grasp of reality. The numbers on my phone weren’t a score of how strong I was…. It was the time. That was the moment my entire life crashed around my feet.  I had lost everything. I started to panic like never before. Tears were streaming down my face, I could barely breathe and my heart was beat so fast I thought it would give out. That night, I wanted to die. I couldn’t see how I was going to come through this panic attack and just wanted it all to stop. I didn’t want any of this anymore. I didn’t want to have to start my life all over again.

I crept upstairs into the bathroom and climbed into the shower, as I find the sensation of being in the shower soothing. But how selfish was I being? My mum had to be up at 6am to go to work and I was risking waking her by coming upstairs.  She had spent her life working so hard to support us and this is the gratitude I was showing her. I was being selfish and inconsiderate. This thought made the anxiety worse.

At around 5:30 am I climbed back out of the shower, tears still streaming down my face. I got dried and dressed, then held my breath as I crept back down to the living room. By the time my mum had got up, ready for work and had entered the living room I was sat on the sofa, rocking, still trying to breathe, tears pouring silently down my face. My mum just hugged me, told me everything would be OK and she thought I was trying to be too strong for my own good. You will never understand how much I needed this. You see, mental illness doesn’t happen because you are weak, it is caused by being so strong for too long. That was my last panic attack.

The following day I spoke to a friend on the phone who had heard my relationship had ended, and wanted to check I was OK. When I told her what had happened and some of the random things he had taken (namely the bubble bath), she laughed! I don’t know why I reacted the way I did that day, as usually if someone laughs at my downfall I would rant and rave, and quite possibly punch them in the face. But I laughed too. It felt so good. Like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

This was the beginning of an amazing few months. I was finally single for the first time in years, I was surrounded with great friends and could do what I wanted, and not have anyone to answer to. I made some mistakes along the way, but they were mine to make. I’m now coming to the end of a long process of discovering who I am, and not who other people have moulded me to become. I’m rediscovering all the things that make me happy, that make me “me”. I finally realise what is important to me, and who is important to me. 

Food for thought....

You know that moment when you sit down to eat your dinner and think to yourself  "I wish someone had defecated on this food"? No...? Oh!

Today's blog is about the fresh fruit and vegetables we buy in our supermarkets, and the many reasons why I think we should be growing our own.

1) You could save a fortune!!

    Ever looked in a bag of potatoes you've had in the cupboard to find one has grown roots, then thrown it in the bin? Leave the roots to grow around an inch in length then throw that potato into a hole in the back garden and cover it over. In a few months time you can have new 15-25 potatoes. 

Years ago, 6 strawberry plants were bought. They have split now into around 30 plants, each produce around a punnet of strawberries. Tesco's current online price ranges from £1.35-£2.49 a punnet depending on the quality you want. 30 punnets of their value strawberries would cost me at current prices £40.50 a year.

5 years ago I bought a pack of mixed pepper seeds (4 varieties) for 99p. This included around 20 bell pepper seeds (yes I've realised since I could have just saved the seeds from a pepper now, but at the time it seemed like a good idea). Each pepper plant can grow around 6-10 peppers, so 20 plants could provide a minimum of 120 peppers. Tesco's current online price is 72p a pepper. 120 peppers would cost me £86.40. Save the seeds from a pepper and you can keep growing peppers for free for the rest of your life. I can think of plenty of things I would rather spend money on, and if you grow too much you can sell some on to family and friends!

2) It can be so quick and easy!!

     I find being in the UK has its benefits.... Like lots of rain! Generally means if I plant something outside (which usually isn't a very ceremonious occasion - throw the seeds down, cover with a bit of soil and then water), I can ignore it until its ready to be picked. The 6 strawberry plants that divided into 30 on their own, and a net was thrown across them to keep the birds out. Other than that, they get no attention unless it hasn't rained for a while, then its a quick blast with a hosepipe. Not exactly time consuming.

You want some runner beans, it may take you 2 minutes to pick a few handfuls off the plants. It takes far longer to walk round the supermarket, locate them, weave your way through women with pushchairs, dawdling elderly and children running around (or plough through them with your trolley), then wait to be served by the slowest checkout assistant known to man.

3) Its fresh!!

    You never quite know how long it has taken some supermarket "fresh" produce to go from field to shop shelf, and sometimes it may sit on the shelves for days, and if its a loose product, may have been handled by dozens of other people who probably haven't washed their hands since scratching their ass. Lovely! I witnessed an elderly gentleman in my local supermarket, rub an apple across the crotch of their stained jogging bottoms before looking at it and putting it back again. How many people can honestly say they wash their apples before eating them? Bet you will now though! 

4) You don't need to use pesticides!!

    There are plenty of studies that show that the use of some chemicals cause cancer. You can barely open the paper or watch the news without hearing about it. EPA considers 60 percent of all herbicides, 90 percent of all fungicides and 30 percent of all insecticides carcinogenic.  If you are growing your own food, you have control over what does, or doesn’t, go into it. The bottom line is that pesticides are poisons designed to kill living organisms and can also harm humans. In addition to cancer, pesticides are implicated in birth defects, nerve damage and genetic mutations. Using such methods as "companion gardening" to keep pests away. Such plants as marigolds keep away whitefly, and mint deters aphids. Mint also aids the growth of cabbages and the flowers attract hoverflies which eats many garden pests. Plus, who doesn't like fresh mint with their potatoes?

5) You don't have to eat faeces!!

     You were waiting for why I used THAT opening statement weren't you?! We all know farmers use animal manure on the crops. But did you know they also use human faeces? It is true, often called bio-solid also known as "granulite", it is smeared all over the crop plants, and often the crops themselves rise to the surface and come into direct contact with the manure. Of course it is chemically treated, and who doesn't want to eat bleached pooh?!

 When I was studying for my biology degree at university, I studied Food Safety. Did you know the vast majority of all upset stomachs are caused by food poisoning cases of some degree? And that around 91% of all food poisoning cases are caused by eating food contaminated by faeces? 

Such strands of food poisoning bacterium like Norovirus is the leading cause of gastroenteritis, or what we commonly think of as stomach flu and is the second most common virus after the common cold. 

Norovirus is usually transmitted from the faeces to the mouth, either by drinking contaminated food or water or by passing from person to person. Because noroviruses are easily transmitted, are resistant to common disinfectants, and are hard to contain using normal sanitary measures, they can cause extended outbreaks. 

Campylobacter is found in the faeces of chickens and is often contracted through eating contaminated vegetables.Studies have found that campylobacter is found in 88% of chickens.

Escherichia coli (or E. coli) are bacteria that live in human and animal intestines. The bacteria do not make animals such as livestock and deer, which harbour the bacteria in their intestines, ill.

Toxoplasmosis is caused by animal faeces which can contaminated food and water, and is thought that 22.5% of the population will have suffered from this by the age of 12. In some areas this may be as high as 95%. 

Cryptosporidium is caused by both human and animal faeces and is resistant to chlorine rendering "just giving it a quick rinse under the tap useless". 

Shigella bacteria (also called bacillary dysentery) are generally transmitted through a fecal-oral route.  Foods that come into contact with human or animal waste can transmit Shigella. Thus, handling toddlers’ diapers, eating vegetables from a field contaminated with sewage, or drinking pool water are all activities that can lead to shigellosis. It is highly contagious. Salmonella bacterium are commonly found in the faecal canal of poultry.

Hepatitis A is a contagious, and usually foodbourne disease, however is the only one you can currently be vaccinated against. It travels in faeces, and can spread from person to person, or can be contracted from food or water. 

Now honestly speaking, I don't exactly fancy these kinds of illnesses, and growing my own produce means I can decide what form of fertilisation I want my crops to receive. I keep a compost bin that I throw waste fruit and vegetables scraps and garden waste into. It's not difficult, means my dustbin doesn't smell of rotting food and provides a more safer way to grow my food crops.... and it is free!

So why do so many people choose shop-bought produce over homegrown? Sometimes its not having a garden. When I lived in a second-story flat I had window boxes, and there were allotments nearby. So perhaps its either laziness or ignorance to the overwhelming benefits of home-grown food.

     

My biggest fear realised...

Last night I watched "confessions of a nurse". What a lovely programme it was and showed what it really is like being a nurse. Its about time everyone stopped pretending that nursing is glamorous, sexy and full of air-heads who follow doctors round like puppies. Nurses do the real grafting. However, this isn't the focus for the day. 

People who know me know that I  hate birthdays due to having a fear of getting old, and  I have a fear of the elderly. It seems rather silly really. Every second I am getting older, and in mere weeks, I will turn 25. There will be those of you thinking "25? That's nothing!! Still a young un!" However, you don't see what I see. The average age expectancy is reported to be around 80 in the UK. In my family, 75 is the magic number. 75....? But I'm going to be 25!!! That means I have lived a third of my life already!! By my "calculations" I should be exactly where I want to be right now... Married, big family, house, the career I want... And then for the following 25 years I should be expanding on this. Developing my home, watching my family grow, getting to the top of my career ladder. Then for the final 25 years it should be my resting years, I'll have done the hard work already and this is the time I appreciate the finer things in life and watch all my children have their own children... 

But I'm not where I want to be!!! I don't have a boyfriend, let alone husband! I don't have the 7 children I dream of, I don't have my house by the beach... I don't even think I'm on the right career path.

I know, I know. You are wondering how all this relates to "confessions of a nurse" and why do old people scare me.... 

Growing up I didn't really know my grand parents. My paternal grandfather died when I was 1, so I don't remember him at all. My paternal grandmother died when I was 4. Don't really remember her either. My maternal grandfather died when I was 7, he was quite nice. My maternal grandmother didn't die until I was about 19. She died after a long battle with cancer. A battle I couldn't fight with her. It scared me. Not dying or the fact cancer runs in the family. Of what the cancer was doing to her, and did I want my last memories of her being ravaged by the disease. So I distanced myself from it. I didn't even attend her funeral, however, I don't really think that is the best place to say goodbye. But that's a story for another day. So dear reader.... so far you may have realised that I haven't had much to do with the elderly, but why do I fear them?

This wasn't realised by me until last night whilst watching the programme. The young nurses were working with the elderly and those with dementia. Watching how compassionate these nurses were, and how much care these people actually need and BAM! I realised what it was and why I fear getting old so much!!

I fear losing my independence. That is it in a nutshell. 

I love my independence, I don't like to rely on anyone for anything. I don't like men paying for my dinner, or not being able to create my own furnishings. Why do I want other people having to do things for me?

But seeing these people, having to be washed, spoon-fed and being unable to do anything for myself TERRIFIES me! However, I don't know which I hate the thought of most. Being compos mentis and the humiliation of needing intimate care (after all it seems a bit like regressing back into a baby), or losing my marbles. Some may say I lost my marbles a long time ago, and you may too dear reader. But either way, the fact is still there. Having to be dependent on someone else scares me. And every birthday I am getting a little bit closer to having my fear materialise.....

If you want to perform a miracle....

On Thursday I will be donating blood. Big deal, right? Where is the miracle in that? 

Let me ask you this.... Your nearest love one is involved in an accident of suffer a serious illness. You are watching them dying in front of your very eyes. Would you do anything you could to save them? Or perhaps its you who needs saving? For instance, you've just gone through a difficult labour, but you are losing a lot of blood. You want nothing more than to hold your new born baby in your arms.... Would you accept a blood transfusion to save your own life or the life of someone you love? If you've answered yes.... read on.

In the UK only around 5% of the population are registered donors. Of course there are restrictions to who can donate blood, such as those who have HIV or Hepatitis, those who have had a tattoo or piercing within the last 6 months, have received a blood transfusion themselves since 1980, aged between 17-65 at your first donation and weigh more than 50 kilos. There are a few more, but this covers the basics.

Did you know there are benefits to giving blood too?!?!  Medical researchers believe that the loss of iron associated with blood donation could lead to a lower chance of cardiac arrests, artery damage and some other heart related illnesses... Oh and lets not forget the free biscuits!!

So what actually happens when you go to donate? Firstly... make sure you have drank something (not alcohol though please) and have something to eat. Then turn up at your local blood donation session!! 

The first time you have to fill in a form with your lovely particulars to make sure you are elligible to give blood, and so that they can contact you. Then every other time you have to fill in a quick questionnaire with questions like "have you been on holiday recently?" "have you received any vaccines since your last donation?" etc etc. It's not particuarly taxing on the brain. 

Then a nurse will take you off to have a quick nose at your questionnaire to make sure everything is in order, and then they prick your finger and take a drop of blood to test in a solution to see if you have enough iron in your blood  to ensure you are well enough to give blood for your own safety on that day. If you pass this test you will be handed a pint of water to drink and you will be elligible to give one whole unit of blood!! Its not much - 450mls... thats under a pint!! Less than the water you have to drink... drink it up! You are watering down your blood a bit ;)

When a bed becomes free you will be called to take your bed and lie down. They then check you know your own name and date of birth, to make sure you aren't a complete idiot. They then poke the inside of your elbow a bit while you clench your fist to feel where your veins are, and whether you have a tendon in the way. Then once they know where everything is (you don't want to be a pin cushion now do you?), they insert the needle into your arm. A tiny scratch. Then lie back and wiggle your fingers (these people are a bit demanding, aren't they?)  while your blood flows into the bag .This helps speed up the process. 

When you are done, the machine beeps to let the blood nurse know, they remove the needle and ask you to hold a pad to your arm, and after a few minutes, to sit up. You can then go and have a drink and some biscuits. 

Not too dramatic for a miracle.... but what you've just read is a miracle... it is the miracle of life. To save a life with such an easy process that takes around 15 minutes, you have the chance to meet some amazing people, and you never know - one day it could be your life or someone you know who needs that miracle. If you want to see a miracle... be the miracle!

For more information or to register please go to: www.blood.co.uk