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Monthly Archives: June 2012

 

My spoonie bracelet

The more perceptive among you will have noticed that I sometimes refer to myself or other people with chronic illnesses as ‘spoonies’. As promised here’s the explanation of where that term comes from.

The Spoon Theory

The Spoon Theory was created by Christine Miserandino and was recorded online at butyoudontlooksick.com, here’s a direct copy of the story posted there:

My best friend and I were in the diner, talking. As usual, it was very late and we were eating French fries with gravy. Like normal girls our age, we spent a lot of time in the diner while in college, and most of the time we spent talking about boys, music or trivial things, that seemed very important at the time. We never got serious about anything in particular and spent most of our time laughing.

As I went to take some of my medicine with a snack as I usually did, she watched me with an awkward kind of stare, instead of continuing the conversation. She then asked me out of the blue what it felt like to have Lupus and be sick. I was shocked not only because she asked the random question, but also because I assumed she knew all there was to know about Lupus. She came to doctors with me, she saw me walk with a cane, and throw up in the bathroom. She had seen me cry in pain, what else was there to know?

I started to ramble on about pills, and aches and pains, but she kept pursuing, and didn’t seem satisfied with my answers. I was a little surprised as being my roommate in college and friend for years; I thought she already knew the medical definition of Lupus. Then she looked at me with a face every sick person knows well, the face of pure curiosity about something no one healthy can truly understand. She asked what it felt like, not physically, but what it felt like to be me, to be sick.

As I tried to gain my composure, I glanced around the table for help or guidance, or at least stall for time to think. I was trying to find the right words. How do I answer a question I never was able to answer for myself? How do I explain every detail of every day being effected, and give the emotions a sick person goes through with clarity. I could have given up, cracked a joke like I usually do, and changed the subject, but I remember thinking if I don’t try to explain this, how could I ever expect her to understand. If I can’t explain this to my best friend, how could I explain my world to anyone else? I had to at least try.

At that moment, the spoon theory was born. I quickly grabbed every spoon on the table; hell I grabbed spoons off of the other tables. I looked at her in the eyes and said “Here you go, you have Lupus”. She looked at me slightly confused, as anyone would when they are being handed a bouquet of spoons. The cold metal spoons clanked in my hands, as I grouped them together and shoved them into her hands.

I explained that the difference in being sick and being healthy is having to make choices or to consciously think about things when the rest of the world doesn’t have to. The healthy have the luxury of a life without choices, a gift most people take for granted.

Most people start the day with unlimited amount of possibilities, and energy to do whatever they desire, especially young people. For the most part, they do not need to worry about the effects of their actions. So for my explanation, I used spoons to convey this point. I wanted something for her to actually hold, for me to then take away, since most people who get sick feel a “loss” of a life they once knew. If I was in control of taking away the spoons, then she would know what it feels like to have someone or something else, in this case Lupus, being in control.

She grabbed the spoons with excitement. She didn’t understand what I was doing, but she is always up for a good time, so I guess she thought I was cracking a joke of some kind like I usually do when talking about touchy topics. Little did she know how serious I would become?

I asked her to count her spoons. She asked why, and I explained that when you are healthy you expect to have a never-ending supply of “spoons”. But when you have to now plan your day, you need to know exactly how many “spoons” you are starting with. It doesn’t guarantee that you might not lose some along the way, but at least it helps to know where you are starting. She counted out 12 spoons. She laughed and said she wanted more. I said no, and I knew right away that this little game would work, when she looked disappointed, and we hadn’t even started yet. I’ve wanted more “spoons” for years and haven’t found a way yet to get more, why should she? I also told her to always be conscious of how many she had, and not to drop them because she can never forget she has Lupus.

I asked her to list off the tasks of her day, including the most simple. As, she rattled off daily chores, or just fun things to do; I explained how each one would cost her a spoon. When she jumped right into getting ready for work as her first task of the morning, I cut her off and took away a spoon. I practically jumped down her throat. I said ” No! You don’t just get up. You have to crack open your eyes, and then realize you are late. You didn’t sleep well the night before. You have to crawl out of bed, and then you have to make your self something to eat before you can do anything else, because if you don’t, you can’t take your medicine, and if you don’t take your medicine you might as well give up all your spoons for today and tomorrow too.” I quickly took away a spoon and she realized she hasn’t even gotten dressed yet. Showering cost her spoon, just for washing her hair and shaving her legs. Reaching high and low that early in the morning could actually cost more than one spoon, but I figured I would give her a break; I didn’t want to scare her right away. Getting dressed was worth another spoon. I stopped her and broke down every task to show her how every little detail needs to be thought about. You cannot simply just throw clothes on when you are sick. I explained that I have to see what clothes I can physically put on, if my hands hurt that day buttons are out of the question. If I have bruises that day, I need to wear long sleeves, and if I have a fever I need a sweater to stay warm and so on. If my hair is falling out I need to spend more time to look presentable, and then you need to factor in another 5 minutes for feeling badly that it took you 2 hours to do all this.

I think she was starting to understand when she theoretically didn’t even get to work, and she was left with 6 spoons. I then explained to her that she needed to choose the rest of her day wisely, since when your “spoons” are gone, they are gone. Sometimes you can borrow against tomorrow’s “spoons”, but just think how hard tomorrow will be with less “spoons”. I also needed to explain that a person who is sick always lives with the looming thought that tomorrow may be the day that a cold comes, or an infection, or any number of things that could be very dangerous. So you do not want to run low on “spoons”, because you never know when you truly will need them. I didn’t want to depress her, but I needed to be realistic, and unfortunately being prepared for the worst is part of a real day for me.

We went through the rest of the day, and she slowly learned that skipping lunch would cost her a spoon, as well as standing on a train, or even typing at her computer too long. She was forced to make choices and think about things differently. Hypothetically, she had to choose not to run errands, so that she could eat dinner that night.

When we got to the end of her pretend day, she said she was hungry. I summarized that she had to eat dinner but she only had one spoon left. If she cooked, she wouldn’t have enough energy to clean the pots. If she went out for dinner, she might be too tired to drive home safely. Then I also explained, that I didn’t even bother to add into this game, that she was so nauseous, that cooking was probably out of the question anyway. So she decided to make soup, it was easy. I then said it is only 7pm, you have the rest of the night but maybe end up with one spoon, so you can do something fun, or clean your apartment, or do chores, but you can’t do it all.

I rarely see her emotional, so when I saw her upset I knew maybe I was getting through to her. I didn’t want my friend to be upset, but at the same time I was happy to think finally maybe someone understood me a little bit. She had tears in her eyes and asked quietly “Christine, How do you do it? Do you really do this everyday?” I explained that some days were worse then others; some days I have more spoons then most. But I can never make it go away and I can’t forget about it, I always have to think about it. I handed her a spoon I had been holding in reserve. I said simply, “I have learned to live life with an extra spoon in my pocket, in reserve. You need to always be prepared.”

Its hard, the hardest thing I ever had to learn is to slow down, and not do everything. I fight this to this day. I hate feeling left out, having to choose to stay home, or to not get things done that I want to. I wanted her to feel that frustration. I wanted her to understand, that everything everyone else does comes so easy, but for me it is one hundred little jobs in one. I need to think about the weather, my temperature that day, and the whole day’s plans before I can attack any one given thing. When other people can simply do things, I have to attack it and make a plan like I am strategizing a war. It is in that lifestyle, the difference between being sick and healthy. It is the beautiful ability to not think and just do. I miss that freedom. I miss never having to count “spoons”.

After we were emotional and talked about this for a little while longer, I sensed she was sad. Maybe she finally understood. Maybe she realized that she never could truly and honestly say she understands. But at least now she might not complain so much when I can’t go out for dinner some nights, or when I never seem to make it to her house and she always has to drive to mine. I gave her a hug when we walked out of the diner. I had the one spoon in my hand and I said “Don’t worry. I see this as a blessing. I have been forced to think about everything I do. Do you know how many spoons people waste everyday? I don’t have room for wasted time, or wasted “spoons” and I chose to spend this time with you.”

Ever since this night, I have used the spoon theory to explain my life to many people. In fact, my family and friends refer to spoons all the time. It has been a code word for what I can and cannot do. Once people understand the spoon theory they seem to understand me better, but I also think they live their life a little differently too. I think it isn’t just good for understanding Lupus, but anyone dealing with any disability or illness. Hopefully, they don’t take so much for granted or their life in general. I give a piece of myself, in every sense of the word when I do anything. It has become an inside joke. I have become famous for saying to people jokingly that they should feel special when I spend time with them, because they have one of my “spoons”.

© Christine Miserandino

It’s a bit of a long story so I am glad to see some of you read this far down the blog post. This story was shared online between the big chronic/invisible illness that exists, especially on Twitter. It has been so popular among this group of people as an explanation for their condition that the term ‘spoonie’ has spread like wildfire. I even wear a bracelet with a spoon charm on to help raise awareness. I am told all the time I look well, but like others with invisible illnesses, my appearance is very rarely a reflection of my health status.

I know some of you already share and RT my posts, and I appreciate that so much but I would like to especially urge each and every reader to share a link to this post on some sort of social media platform to help raise more awareness about invisible illnesses.

This blog post took one spoon to write.

Love Katie x


Despite trying to pace myself while we’ve been packing and painting, I’ve woken up this morning feeling so ill. My arms are hurting badly and I just feel so exhausted that all I want to do is sleep. I thought I was doing quite well on the pacing front, but I guess I’m still over-doing it. Paul is still not sleeping so I’m quite worried about him.

Even though, we’re both feeling a bit worse for wear today, I know that we’ll still manage to finish everything in time for moving day on Sunday. We’ve already done about three quarters of the packing, if not more, and half of the painting, going at a pretty slow pace. Some order has begun to emerge now with the packing, and the task doesn’t feel so impossible. In fact, we’re both kind of beginning to enjoy it. I know that that sounds weird because everyone hates packing, but the part we’ve come to enjoy is having the opportunity to go through absolutely everything you own and decide whether you really want to keep it. It’s the best way to have a proper clear out. And, watching Wimbledon while we do it takes away the boredom. Not only do we enjoy the tennis, but there’s something about Wimbledon that reminds you of lovely summer days.

Having lunch with the mentioned friends

I’m writing this blog post from the castle. Our friends are leaving Cardiff on Saturday so I didn’t want to miss the last opportunity to see them. Most of the Castle is un-accessible so I decided to take the opportunity to rest in the cafe with a hot chocolate while P and our friends went around. I just want to fall asleep on my keyboard, but I also want to treasure these last moments I have with my friends before they move back home. It’s difficult when you’re fighting to keep your eyes open, but I’m giving it the good old college try at the moment.

Before my little break at the cafe, we went around the visitor’s centre, where I managed to persuade nearly everyone to try on the outfits intended for kids. I always have fun with these people, no matter how ill I’m feeling, so I hate that they’re leaving. In a way I guess this trip has made that harder.

I can see them heading my way so better sign off.

Love Katie x


I’m writing this blog post in a very sleepy state. The packing and painting has commenced and as anticipated it is proving to be an insurmountable task. I know we should be pacing ourselves, but it is pretty difficult to do that when we have such a huge task to complete in a fairly short space of time. My lovely mummy has offered to come help us pack this week, but to be honest we couldn’t fit another person into the chaos at the moment. Thankfully, P’s lovely mummy is coming on Saturday to help with the last big push, all the cleaning and horrid jobs. Hopefully by then we’ll have a bit more order to the mess and we’ll be able to fit her in.

P’s depression is actually responding quite well to having all this work to do. He’s relishing actually having to do something and enjoying watching Wimbledon while working. There’s something strangely satisfying about seeing a wall you’ve freshly painted look so clean and perfect. Unfortunately, he’s can’t sleep much at night, and therefore, his body still isn’t back to full strength.

I am being some help, despite P’s repeated pleas for me not to do anything. The thing is that I actually enjoy doing stuff like this. For example, I have now learnt the best way to remove mirror tiles without cracking them, but I only removed one out of the floor that needed to be done. Probably the best way we work together is painting. P uses the roller to do most of the wall, because it would hurt a lot to reach my arm that high once, let alone keep it up there and move a roller. I can, however, sit on the floor and use my artists hand to neatly paint the border between the wall and the skirting board. I can also do the pre-painting of quick bits of stains on the walls. The most painful and tiring part of packing for me is actually moving around the boxes, so P has concentrated on packing heavy stuff like books and I’ve packed fragile stuff and wrapped them in bubble wrap.

We’ve been trying to take regular breaks and not work for too long, in an attempt to learn lessons from the last time we moved. When we moved to our current flat, I woke up the next morning unable to sit up because my arms wouldn’t work. That was the first time I experienced fibromyalgia symptoms. Whenever I remind myself of that, I decide that it’s not worth pushing myself too hard. Today I’m going for the easy task of de-frosting the freezer and marking the boxes we’ve packed to make it easier the other end.

Love Katie x

P.s. Posts may be a bit sparse this week because of the busyness of moving.


Despite the couple of days where P started to feel better, he wasn’t able to go on his trip on Friday. The poor boy woke up on Friday morning feeling terrible, in fact I was more energetic than him. Luckily we had arranged for my mum to come and look after me while P was away so she still came to help us out.

After some breakfast and coffee, P was feeling a little better. I don’t know what it is about porridge, but I find it always makes me feel better in the mornings. I wanted to not to go to Ikea, but stay home with Paul but he insisted we go, because we both knew we needed to get storage boxes and other bits and bobs for moving. We’re moving in a week and we haven’t been able to do much packing because we need these things.

So, I started getting dressed and nearly fell over with shock when P said he wanted to come. It’s hard for me to explain how much Paul hates Ikea. He’d do anything not to come usually. The fact that he wanted to come told me his depression was bad, and that meant there was no way I was leaving him behind. He seemed a little better in Ikea, not drifting off into his mind too much, just a bit grumpy. Dare I say he may even have enjoyed parts, especially when we bumped into some old friends who work there.

I felt so bad for him because he wasn’t well enough to go away. He had been looking forward to it so much. He doesn’t get many, if any, opportunities to do stuff he’d really enjoy. It is so frustrating ad unfair that he’d miss this. It broke my heart when he said that he’d been waiting years to do something like this. My daddy tries to do guys things with him,  but they don’t manage to do anything often.

Knowing how rubbish he was feeling mentally, the last thing I wanted to do was leave him home alone for the evening with nothing to do but put Ikea boxes together. Mummy and I had plans to go to a girls swap shop night but I suggested we do something else instead with P. I really didn’t want to leave my boy but he said he’d be fine and I was just being overprotective. I feel terrible writing this now but I have to admit that mummy and I did go out, but only for just over an hour and a half, but still I felt him at home. As I suspected P’s boredom turned into a depressive state.

I know how Paul feels about me when he’s sick like this- so frustrated at my powerlessness to make him better. I don’t know whether it’s his depression affecting his physical state or he has a bug/virus which has weakened his body enough to bring on his depression, which is making his physical illness worse, which in turn triggers his depression.

I am so angry with the doctors/system because all they’ve done is increase his anti-depressants since he took an overdose. I cannot believe his name still hasn’t reached the top of the counseling list.

I can’t decide whether us moving is bad or good timing. Bad in the sense of his physical illness, because of the exhausting tasks that lay ahead this week. Good in the sense that it gives him plenty to do, the worst things for depression is being left alone with your thoughts. From experience, I’ve realised that making P do nothing when his depression is bad is the worst thing I could do for him. The best thing I can do is let him do what he wants when he wants.

The challenge this week then is to let P do the packing, cleaning, etc but not so much that his physical state deteriorates. I’m praying that his mind will let him have a good night’s sleep. It’s going to be a week of balancing acts…

Love Katie x

 

 


*Today’s blog continues on from yesterday’s theme.

Persuaded P to take a photo of me today

Beau and I had a picnic at the Castle again today, which in some ways was even nicer than the one we had yesterday. I definitely felt more relaxed and even had a lie-down so we didn’t need to leave so quickly. We spent some of the time discussing ideas and plans for the summer holidays. At the moment, P hasn’t been able to find suitable work so we will probably move home to my parents house for July and parts of August and September, in order to save money. We both get pretty bored without anything to be working for or doing something. Last summer we became tourists in our own city and did all the things we’ve been meaning to do since we moved to Cardiff. I wrote a blog post about it here.

I can’t wait to hang out with this pusscat when I get home

Before our wedding (and hopefully honeymoon) we still have two and half months to fill with memories. Alongside studying for our exams, we plan to do as many free or low cost activities as we can. For example, we love camping so we’re planning to do that as much as we can, where ever we can, whatever the weather. Maybe we’ll only manage as far as the end of the garden, but I’m confident we’ll still have fun, at least it’s not in bed! We’ve got friends we’re hoping to visit, and articles, books, etc that we need to write. In fact, this may seem silly, perhaps P won’t thank me for writing this here, but we’re kind of viewing the move home as a bit of a holiday. We’ll (or should I say Paul) still be helping out with chores and be in my parent’s home but it’s away from the bed I’ve been stuck in for months, a change of scenery. Plus, it’s in the countryside so plenty of places to picnic, BBQ, and explore. And, best of all, we’ll get to spend time with our families.

I have been inspired by the new Wispa advert, which I know I shouldn’t admit. Essentially, it has very little to do with chocolate, but has the slogan

Time well mis-spent

and in one part says,

the kind of things they don’t hand medals out for, but really, really should.

These words really resonate with me. I may not be able to do anything worthy of recognition, but I can do plenty of things which should. Things like keeping the art of letter writing alive. It’s just little things really, but being ill has really made me come to appreciate the little things. As I recently replied to a commenter on this blog, yes, in one sense, we have a right to have a chip on our shoulder because of all the things we’ve had to miss out on, or we can accept that we were meant to have a different life. A different life but not a less fulfilling life.

Love Katie x

P.s. Any disabled readers have advice for traveling abroad?


Our dream is to travel so, if we’re honest about it, we’re always jealous of our friends who go inter-railing or holidaying with partners or families. Please don’t read that as us resenting those friends, because we don’t, we’d just love to go with them (insert laughter). It doesn’t need to be abroad, we’d love to see a West-end show or visit a museum in London or Cornwall. Heck, we’d love just to visit relatives. I have to admit, and I hope it doesn’t make these friends feel guilty to read this, but I had a lump in my throat seeing photos of friends visiting the Harry Potter film sets. We love HP and are desperate to go. In fact, I was rude enough to ask a bit too enthusiastically for them to buy me a souvenir (sorry about that!). Not only was I jealous, but even worse, I couldn’t help feeling like if I wasn’t sick, Paul and I would be with them.

Plus, it’s carers’ week and I kept trying to think of a way we could go there on a day trip, or go anywhere outside of Cardiff city centre on a day trip, but I’m coming up blank. (Any suggestions welcome)

Maybe part of the reason I lost touch with some friends when I got sick after my ‘a’ levels is because it was too painful to hear about all the things they were doing, things I should have been a part of. When you’re sick, you want the world to stop turning so you don’t miss out on anything. It’s not that I’ve ever blamed or disliked a friend for carrying on with their lives, but I guess part of me wanted them to want to make my life great. I have been lucky enough to find a partner and a best friend who will exchange a day on the beach for watching films and playing board games in bed. It was selfish and greedy of me then, to want a whole group of friends who would turn up at my house with the sole intention of giving me an interesting day, on top of them.

Paul and I in Bruges, January 2012

It’s easy for me to get upset and feel sorry for myself- and I do sometimes. But, then I remember that God is good and has already given us some great opportunities, like planting Church in Bruges in January. I’m also trying to keep in mind that we’re hoping that this September P and I might get to fulfill a dream we’ve been talking about since we first got together- going to Paris on honeymoon.

I don’t say (or write) these words lightly, I still well up sometimes when I think of things like the tour of America I was supposed to go on with friends when I was 18. I still have to give myself the reality/pep talk at times like yesterday when my friends when to the HP film sets. When I think of what I’d have to exchange if I were to turn back the clock and undo my illness though, I’m not sure I’d want to…

Love Katie x

p.s. This topic will continue tomorrow.

Sensitivity disclaimer- This blog post is in no way intended to make any of my friends feel guilty or sad.


I know so many people hate Starbucks for it’s lukewarm, over-priced coffee but today it is a bargain. Paulie and I have been sat here using the free wi-fi while drinking our £1.50 coffee, already on our second re-fill. In case that sentence didn’t make sense, that’s £1.50 for free hours of internet and as many cups of coffee as we can drink before the caffeine gets too much.

That is not the only reason we have come into town today though. P and I took advantage of the sunshine for the first time this summer and went for a picnic. P’s energy levels have been a little better today, so when he came back from his driving lesson, not completely exhausted, I suggested we leave the house. His face a picture of relief, he quickly started packing a bag, because, quite frankly, he has gotten cabin fever. Paul isn’t the sort of person who can spend a lot of time inside, he doesn’t particularly enjoy reading (at least not in the day), he doesn’t have any indoor hobbies (I don’t think Lego counts), so he really only has playing on his PS3, and there is only so much one man can do of that once they have left their teenage years. The more serious side of this is that it really isn’t good for his depression to be cooped up like this. Maybe being stuck inside so much, staring at a screen is what is making him feel so under the weather, who knows? All I know is, I need to get him out of the house more. I think that’s why he’s hanging on to going away with Church guys so much this weekend, no matter how rubbish he feels. It’s going to be 24 hours of very tough physical activities, with very little sleep, which will either make his illness very much worse or very much better.

Anyway, back to the picnic. I’ve been watching some Jane Austen adaptation DVDs the last couple of days, my treat when P is either playing his PS3 or out of the house, unlike me, he doesn’t like period dramas. So, I felt very excited at the idea of wearing a lovely little dress and having a picnic in the idyllic surroundings of Cardiff Castle. To have lived there must having been amazing. It is simply impossible for my mind to imagine owning that much land and buildings. Incredible. 

Despite enjoying them so much, we don’t manage going for picnics very often. This is mainly because just the short journey (15-20mins walk) to the nearest park or the Castle can be tiring enough for me, it just doesn’t seem worth the effort. By the time we get to the place, and lay out the blanket and begin eating, I’m usually getting tired, so our picnics are short. Still I’ve come to realise it is worth the effort since it means we get out of the house to do something we enjoy, for free. 

Because it’s such a nice day, I also had an opportunity to take some pictures of the beauty the castle walls enclose. If they come out well, I’ll post them on here. I managed to hobble around a little to take some photos and I also got out of my chair to sit on the blanket. I noticed that some people watched me. I wonder what they think, sometimes the disgust is obvious on their face, they think I’m swindling the benefits system- oh if only. They judge based on the fact that I look fine, there appears to be nothing wrong with me than lazyness. I cringe when people say to me, “it’s terrible that you have to fight so hard to get that little bit of benefits when I know blah blah down the road is claiming loads and there’s nothing wrong with him” because I wonder whether blah blah down the road has an invisible illness like me. I know that members of mine and P’s family think there is nothing wrong with me. I hope writing this blog will decrease the amount of people saying that about people suffering from chronic illnesses. 

Well Starbucks’ caffeine is starting to wear off again so I should sign out. It probably wasn’t a good idea for me to come here after a tiring picnic but I wanted to take my opportunity to post some blogs. It’s difficult to resist the urge to not use caffeine for false energy on the rare occasions I can leave the house. It’s like once I’m out, I’m not coming home until I’m completely drained because I don’t know when I’ll get out again. This is a very bad habit, and the reason why I should be keeping my activity diary to recognise and prevent this. I promise I’ll start tomorrow…

Love Katie x


I never used to be a major fan of technology growing up, my parents couldn’t afford to buy the latest thing and I’m a sentimental collectamaniac, who would rather clutter up places with printed photos than keep them on a CD. When I bought a laptop with my savings before I began university, the idea of keeping my journals in a word document to save the pain in my hands caused by writing seemed ludicrous. I’m not a luddite, don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate technology, I’ve just never really wanted it unless I needed it. When I recently answered a survey about technology then, I was surprised to see how much I and Paul now collectively own. Each item has sneaked up on us, bought or given mainly to help because of the worsening of my symptoms, apart from our iPhones which were perhaps the worst and best things we’ve ever gotten.

A Spoonies* Guide to Gadgets

  • iPod: Other than listening to music for entertainment, my iPod is a vital part of my emergency purse, which I carry everywhere. My emergency purse contains everything I need to control bad pain episodes.I listen to music or meditations (which I have found to be useful) to help distract my mind from the pain I’m in. If that fails, I listen to audiobooks.
  • Kindle: This was one of the hardest things to get used to. Yes, I am sentimental, especially about books. When Paul found out what a bibliophile was, he felt there had never been a better explanation for the reason that books take up the vast majority of our tiny flat. When I found out that I could read textbooks for university on it, as well as PDFs of journal articles, it seemed the best way to spend a big chunk of my book allowance from my DSA. A Kindle is light enough for me to hold or rest of something (usually a pillow when I’m in bed) so I don’t have to hold it all.Even when my arms don’t hurt too much to hold a book in position (which is never with a textbook), my arms shake so much, it’s just annoying to read. Not to mention, a Kindle is so easy to carry! Can you believe that I even get muscle spasms in my eyes? Well I do, so finding a screen that made it easier on my eyes to read than a page, felt like a God send.
  • iPad: More Apple products! Can you tell we’re fans? We bought an iPad with our savings, and the help of a friend who worked there, when it became too painful for my arms to hold my laptop. It had gotten to the point where I had to wait for Paul to come home from a lecture to begin working because I wasn’t able to get my laptop out myself. Few people believe that’s the reason, but it was painful for us to part with that much cash we had hoped to use it for travelling.
  • Audible account: I’ve already mentioned that I listen to audiobooks when I’m in pain. I also listen to audio books when I’m not able to read at all since I love reading everyday. With an Audible account, we can download audio books to make into CDs or for any compatible device, for a fraction of the cost of buying them individually.

So now you know it would be very much worth mugging me, I’m gadget girl!

Love Katie x

 

*What is a spoonie? A spoonie is a term taken on by the online community of people fighting chronic illnesses. Look out for a future post on the Spoon Theory.


Today started so well. Paul and I went to the doctors in the morning and then to a cafe to use the wifi. Milgi (the afore mentioned cafe) is one of the best places, if not the best, to get a drink so it was nice to go out there. I did manage to resist the temptation to have one of their amazing cocktails. While there I managed to get quite a few things sorted and post a blog. I was starting to get tired when we left, I’d expect that from being out all morning, but I was fine when we had lunch back at home. As soon as I started reading in bed after lunch though, I just couldn’t keep my eyes open, and now here I am at 8.30pm having just slept for 6 hours, still feeling tired. Tonight would be perfect for a trip to the cinema but I’m just too wiped out to leave bed.

More worringly, Paul has been feeling a bit under the weather for the last fortnight or so, but this week has been sleeping loads. We went to the doctors today, who are going to do blood tests. I’m concerned that he’s just plain worn out. The poor thing still has to repaint this flat and move to do at the end of the month. He’s supposed to be going on a guy’s night away with Church this weekend, which he would usually be really excited about, but he just thinks he’s going to be too exhausted to go now. Going home for summer is seemingly like a better and better plan by the day.

What question is burning in your pocket?

I realise that for many people understanding chronic illnesses like M.E. and Fibromyalgia can be difficult. Maybe reading this blog has just led you to ask more questions, instead of answering them. I want to give you the opportunity to ask those questions and hear my view on them. You can ask whatever you want, I mean that, there is not a no-go area on this. If you have a question to ask then simply pop it in the question box and I’ll answer it in an upcoming post. The comments box allows you to ask anonymously.

Example questions:

How did you manage your illness during your school years?

My friend has M.E. but she doesn’t need a wheelchair. Do you have the same illness?

How do you manage the physical side of your relationship with your illness?

 

Love Katie x

P.s. Don’t forget Carer’s Week began yesterday. For ideas on how to honour the carer you know, read my earlier blog post here.


So far my plan to spend my internetless weeks reading and writing more is working, I’ve written a couple of letters and have almost finished a book which I only began reading on Saturday.

Paulie and I before we left the house

But, the real topic of this post is the summer ball! Paul and I have been together for over three years but this is the first ball we have been to together. I took getting ready for the ball VERY slowly so it took hours but I wasn’t exhausted when I left the house. I love dressing up so it felt so good to be going to an elegant ball in an elegant dress, but the thing that ruined this princess moment was my ride. I commented to Paul that it wasn’t exactly the best accessory for my outfit. His reply was a little bit profound I guess, he said, “it may be a pumpkin, but it’s still a carriage”. Gently bringing me the reminder that without the ugly chair I wouldn’t be in university, let alone attending the ball. This reminded me how lucky I am to be to go to a ball, when so many spoonies are unable to. I am so lucky to have him to push my wheelchair, without P I wouldn’t be able to go anywhere, even with a wheelchair.

When we arrived, because Paul has been elected to an officer role, we had a VIP reception in the garden with champagne and a free BBQ. As we munched on our burgers, I was wiggling along to the big band music. One of the things I miss the most is dancing, so I just try and do a form of it in my wheelchair. We also got a caricature of us drawn, thankfully the man wasn’t too harsh on our features.

The red carpet was clearly laid especially for me

I had taken a lot of painkillers, as in a lot more than my dosage, so that I wouldn’t be in pain, especially because my pelvic condition was playing up. Paul and I were just having a great time. I don’t really know how else to explain how happy we felt, and how much we were enjoying ourselves. We have gotten to know a couple of people through union activities now so we kept bumping into people to talk to, which was obviously quite nice.

Inside the actual union building, where the main ball was being held, looked so pretty, with hanging curtains, a floral entrance, etc. Paul and I had lots of fun chatting to friends, getting an air tattoo (which we of course sent a picture to P’s mum, pretending it was a real one- sorry!), and taking silly pictures with the Alice in Wonderland props. We managed to meet up with some friends from Church, friends from high school, and our other friends we’ve had since we lived with them in first year. In fact, we bumped into an old flat mate and managed to have a picture with all the original residents of A2, minus one, which felt like quite a poetic end to all of their degrees.

The residents of flat A2 reunited (minus Lyndy-lou)

By the time it was getting to 11pm, the rooms had started to fill up and it was becoming impossible to move the wheelchair around. I guess that’s why I shouldn’t go to clubs, it’s just crazy hard to get through a crowd. And then, as if out of nowhere, my magic ran out and exhaustion hit. It happens like that sometimes, often when I’m in an excitable situation, the tiredness and pain just come out of nowhere and hit like a grenade. So, off this Cinderella went, home by midnight, to fall into bed, and deal with the consequences of doing something so energetic the next day…

Love Katie x

 



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