Boom Shake the Womb!

March 16, 2017March 17, 2017 / Endo Lady UK / 10 Comments

A guest post by @LizzieBennett_ for endometriosis awareness month.

Life Lesson by Don Raye
The fierce wind rages
And I see how trees survive
They have learned to bend

Before

I’m 13 and I’m being prescribed the pill for irregular, painful bleeding. Apparently my cycle just needs to settle down.

I’m 14 and I’m being rushed into hospital to have my appendix removed. Only when it comes out it looks like it isn’t the culprit after all.

I’m 15 and I’m put on the contraceptive injection because I’m still bleeding for two weeks at a time and being physically sick from the pain.

I’m 17 and I’m asleep on my mum’s bathroom floor for the second night in a row, because the cold floor is the only thing that will ease the pain in my lower back and I may as well be somewhere that I can vomit.

I’m 18 and I finally see a consultant. I’m too young to have endometriosis she assures me, but after pressure from my mum she agrees to do the operation to rule it out so that we can focus on the other ‘much more likely’ causes. She gives me surgery for a bet.

I’m 18 and she pulls back the curtain after my surgery to inform me without kindness that they did find endometriosis on the back of my womb. It is now removed and she’ll see me for a follow up. She never did and I did not receive the slightest advice on how to manage an incurable chronic condition. Everything I ever learnt is from charity websites and women’s magazines. I have never underestimated Marie Claire.

I’m 20 and I’m back to bleeding for weeks at a time. I’m informed that further surgery should be a last resort and I need to find hormonal alternatives. They give me the implant.

I’m 22 and the implant has to be swapped because it’s not longer effective. Surgery is not an option.

I’m 24 and the implant has to be swapped because it’s not longer effective. Surgery is not an option.

I’m 27 and I bleed for eight weeks over Christmas and New Year. I’m extremely bloated, and uncomfortable. I have a constant bearing down sensation in my back and cramps in my legs. I often cannot get out of foetal position because of the pain. I’m exhausted and I find it difficult to open my eyes in the morning; I worry that I am becoming depressed. My anxiety is through the roof, but who can blame me when my whole body feels like it’s against me?

I’m 27 and I’m seeing a private consultant. I’ve been unable to move from my bed and have been experiencing labour pains when I bleed. The pain is now also present when I don’t bleed. I’m asked to rate the quality of my life. I circle ‘0’.

I’m 27 and the consultant shows me pictures of my womb. She’s removed endometriosis covering the left side of my womb and the pouch of Douglas. My womb collapses when it is touched, the muscles have deteriorated. She suspects adenomyosis. As my mum is crying next to me all I can think is ‘Thank God someone believes me, thank god it’s not all in my head’.

I’m 28. It’s the day before my best friend’s wedding and I can’t stand up straight because of the pain. I’m so tired from not sleeping that my vision has started to blur. I manage the pain with tramadol, codeine, and jäger bombs, but I know I was close to not being able to be there. I consider how much more I am willing to miss for this disease.

I’m 28 and I’ve decided to have a hysterectomy. I’m on a drug that has shut down my pituitary gland. I am so sick I honestly feel like I am dying. Someone asks me what I do all day now that I can’t work and I’ve had to take a leave of absence from my PhD. I survive, I tell them, every ounce of my energy from the second I wake up to the second I go to sleep goes into surviving. I google my first consultant for my PALS report and it transpires she is writing a book on cultivating ‘compassion’ in the NHS. Yep. Compassion.

I’m 28 and I’m doing the compulsory pregnancy test before my hysterectomy. The fact that I haven’t had sex with anyone for two years apparently doesn’t mean I can skip it. I’m at peace with having family in whatever way it comes, but I can’t help but remember the daydream I’ve said since I was a teenager of waiting for my partner to come home and greeting him with the test in my hand and hugging each other with mad joy. Tears fall silently down my face in the starkly lit toilet, whilst I pee on a stick. No hope of a positive test. No partner.

After

One of things that I did not expect after my operation were the irrational feelings occasioned by the trauma of my muscles inside. I had read that sometimes your other organs go into shock at the removal of the womb, but I hadn’t been prepared for my body literally feeling like I had given birth. In semi-lucid moments in those first couple of weeks I would wake up reaching my arms out and wanting my baby. It was, even for someone not naturally broody, pretty horrific.

For the next few months after the operation I would quite often have to leave nights out, or lunch dates, early to cry. I wondered if this was a delayed grief, but in retrospect I think it was a combination of extreme tiredness and sheer, abject relief. Relief that I had made it through those long months, relief to be past the fear of the operating room, and relief to finally have my body back on my side after 15 years.

Probably one of the hardest things about my illness as young women has been painful sex, and bleeding during or after it. On top of which, the irregularity of my periods has always meant that I could come on at any time. So on a date when the glasses are being cleared from the table, and they’ve inched their chair over, and I’m laughing and playing with my hair, and they say do you fancy coming back to mine for a drink? My first thought has never been ‘get in’, or ‘I thought you’d never ask’, but ‘have I got sanitary stuff with me?’ Or ‘what if I bleed in the middle or it, or in the night if I stay?’ And if this doesn’t put me off entirely, it means that I look like I got incontinence issues, because I constantly go to the loo to check that I haven’t started gushing blood at various stages of what should be that amazing/awkward/disappointing first hook up.

No one wants Jaws the movie on their first date.

Then, let’s say it goes all right, and you find someone brilliant and understanding. Those things don’t just go away. It’s never going to be fun for someone to feel like they are hurting you when you are being intimate. Sex becomes bound up with worry. I have found that this means that I hold something of myself back during the moment. People sense when they are not getting all of you, and it has implications.

I am now one of the lucky ones. However, there are still consequences for the rest of my life. All of the literature for post-hysterectomy sex is geared towards intercourse with your ‘loving husband’. I’m 28. It could very likely be an intoxicated encounter with a tinder date. Even once I’m passed the initial terror of being naked with someone again, at what date do I casually slip in that I can’t have children the conventional way? Admittedly I was ambivalent beforehand, but ambivalence is a topic that can wait. None of this means that it was the wrong decision; I feel extraordinarily well and happy and optimistic about the future. However, the right decisions are still hard decisions.

So, why am I writing this? Because one of the most important things anyone can do to raise awareness is to tell their story, and for others to share the stories that women tell. It legitimates the experience of women with endometriosis. It sends a message to young girls to trust their bodies. And, hopefully, it may give them the strength to persist with getting a diagnosis when they are told that it’s just ‘normal period pains’.

I can assure you – nothing about my young life with this disease was normal.

As well as difficulties I have faced, I have been lucky enough to also receive fantastic care and wonderful acts of kindness. From the nurse who took my blood and told me we have to make decisions that are right for us at the time, to the porter who held my hand as he wheeled the trolley in to the operating theatre, and the physiotherapist who spent an hour with me before my operation and made everything about those bruising, brutal first two weeks of recovery a bit more bearable.

I have seen great changes in the last ten years in the way that endometriosis is spoken about and treated, and I look forward to the seeing what is achieved next ten years. However, I am aware that for some women it is already too late. These women have met the loss of hopes, dreams, jobs, and relationships with bravery and grace. This piece is written for them.

For further information or for anyone who would like to support or donate to a charity during endometriosis awareness month:

https://www.endometriosis-uk.org/

http://www.adenomyosisadviceassociation.org/

http://www.hystersisters.com/

Elizabeth Bennett is a folk singing, footpath walking, gin drinking PhD student. Having been diagnosed with endometriosis at 18 after 5 years of G.P. appointments, she took the decision to have her uterus, cervix, and fallopian tubes removed at 28, in order to regain her health and restore a sense of self. With her brilliant friends and family she had a stitch and bitch hysterectomy party ‘Boom Shake the Womb’. She has not met Mr Darcy yet, but she has a sneaking suspicion he may arrive in the form of a Sussex Spaniel.

You can tweet Elizabeth at @LizzieBennett_

Have a story to share? Email me at endomyworld@gmail.com

I’m currently featuring on ‘The Endo Twins’ website.

October 31, 2016 / Endo Lady UK / Leave a comment

Last week, I had the awesome experience of being interviewed by Fela of The Endo Twins site about all things endometriosis, adenomyosis, and living well despite chronic illness. This encounter stemmed from our shared experience of living with endometriosis on the diaphragm. You can check the interview out here.

If you have, or suspect that you have diaphragmatic/thoracic endometriosis- please feel free to get in touch through my ‘contact’ page. Also, do check out ‘The Endo Twins’ site as it’s such an interesting read. Thanks again to Fela for featuring me!

With love,
Claire
xxx

What is recovery anyway?

September 6, 2016September 6, 2016 / Endo Lady UK / 1 Comment

It’s been a year now since my excision surgery, where endometriosis was removed from my ovaries, utererosacaral ligaments, bowel, bladder, pouch of douglas, peritoneum, and diaphragm. Lot’s of people have been asking for an update about how I’m doing, and I realise it has been a while since I wrote about my own condition, so I thought I’d write this post to update you all and to share some of my thoughts managing the surgical ‘recovery’ process.

The road to recovery is a long one. There will be obstacles.

I give so many different responses to the question ”So how are you now?”, depending on who is asking- I’ve realised that not everybody needs or even deserves to hear the truth. The honest answer to this question is this: I’m doing OK. Not fantastic, not terrible.

To clarify, I am certainly MUCH better than I was before my surgery, the difference is remarkable. I now no longer have period pain, which is a huge shock and something I never believed was possible for me, having spent 15 years in agony with every single period. As Mr B and I are trying to conceive, I am off the hormones and painkillers , and am managing well, which would not have been possible a year ago. I am actually enjoying being totally drug free, and am still using holistic and dietary techniques to promote my health, along with exercise, which I am really enjoying. This disease has basically turned my into a hippy. Or Gwyneth Paltrow. I’m OK with that.

On the downside, I’ve still been experiencing chronic fatigue since my surgery, which is with me every day and ranges from mild to debilitating. I do have adenomyosis and some other health problems which are likely playing a part in this though, so I don’t see this as any kind of failing from the surgical process. Slightly alarmingly, I have also been experiencing what I think are random diaphragm and endometrioma related pain flare ups again over the last couple of months, but I am just going to track these for a while before I start to panic or take any action. Another gloomy point, no baby in sight yet, and I haven’t even had any near misses, and that has been getting me down a little bit too sometimes. I know it’s relatively early days in the process though- so I am staying as optimistic as I can. (Funny story though- I went to London Zoo with Mr B recently, and I cried when I saw a stork. New level of crazy right there!)

So, as ever when living with chronic illnesses, there are pros and cons, to my current situation, but I am looking on the bright side about how much progress I have made. Thinking about how far I have come since my surgery a year ago, I started to understand that recovery from a major laparoscopy for endometriosis and the journey back to health is a long one- much greater than the couple of weeks they advise you to take off work. In my view this journey can be helped or hindered by two key factors, which I’ve outlined in greater detail below.

Managing my own expectations:

As we all know, there is no cure for endometriosis. While surgery, hormones, or dietary approaches can be useful on their own or in combination, they will not solve the problem completely.

When I see other people sharing their stories online, and through my own advocacy work, I have noticed that many put all their hopes onto a particular approach ‘fixing’ them, in the sense of making them feel exactly like they did before they got really sick.

This makes me worry that they are setting themselves up for disappointment and failure. I am not immune from this myself, for at least a year after being diagnosed I was desperate to work out how I could get back to being my previous healthy self and carry on as though nothing had happened. Eventually I realised this isn’t feasible, my body has changed and I have changed too much. So I gradually started to alter my mindset to focus on how I can become the best and most healthy version of my my new, chronically ill, self.

I’ve found this new approach so liberating and helpful- and it certainly isn’t defeatist if that’s how you’re reading it. It meant that I went into my surgery with positive hopes that it would lessen my symptoms and improve my quality of life, while also being realistic about what it could really achieve in both the short and long term: So when my recovery was hard, and I’ve had flares up, and my endometrioma came back, and my diaphragm hurts, it was disappointed for sure, but I wasn’t crushed like I used to be.

This new approach to my thinking has also encouraged me to keep striving for health through diet and exercise etc, rather than feeling demotivated and giving up on myself because things will never be as they once were.

Managing the expectations of others:

As well as managing your own expectations about what a treatment or approach can feasibly achieve, I have also realised it is just as important, if not more so, to actively manage the expectations of the people around you. No matter how good I have felt about my progress, it has sometimes only taken a small comment from other people to bring me down and lower my confidence. Examples I have experienced have included:

Family member: It’s disappointing you’re still experiencing some these problems isn’t it?!
Friend: How come you’re still feeling bad- do you need another surgery?
Boss: What do you mean you still have fatigue? I thought you had surgery to sort these things out!

Even though I have told people that endometriosis is a chronic and incurable condition, the fact is most people are much more familiar with acute illnesses that get better with treatment, and they will fall back on these experiences to make sense of what you’ve been going through. I mean, people have surgery to fix them right?!

I think if and when I have another laparoscopy, I will work to reinforce realistic expectations of my friends, family, and colleagues during and after the procedure, to improve their understanding and to limit these comments. Well informed people makes much better cheer-leaders. When people expect that you’re going to be well, or improved, or cured, it is really very difficult to confide in them that your not, and this can increase feelings of loneliness and isolation. It feels like you’re somehow disappointing them or simply not trying hard enough to get better.

Goal setting to aid recovery:

There were a few months after my surgery when I felt frustrated with my progress (well, my perceived lack of) and felt like I was just drifting aimlessly through life without any vision for myself or support. This was really weird for me as I’ve also been a planner and had a strong sense of where I wanted to be. My self confidence was in tatters, as was with fitness and progress on my PhD.

What has really helped to turn this around has been having specific and realistic goals to work towards with regards to my recovery and general health. Over the past year these goals have included: Working on getting leaner, improving my stamina, working to reduce the inflammation in my body, getting pregnant, and finishing my PhD.

The joy of goals is they can be adapted over time depending on your needs and vision for yourself, and they help to develop your sense of purpose and self worth. Without them, the journey to recovery can feel like a never ending road to nowhere.

I would recommend making some short term goals immediately after surgery for the following weeks, and then introducing long terms ones gradually in the months afterwards. The key to success with such an approach is making sure the goals you set are realistic, and that you can identify the steps you are going to take in order to achieve them.

So what exactly recovery is, and to what extent it is possible, I still don’t really know. It’s certainly more than physical healing from surgery and is an ongoing process requiring lost of thought and practice. Like everyone else, I am just trying to do my best in difficult circumstances, and trying to make positive decisions that are right for me. If you’re feeling lost, or discouraged, on your road to better health, take heart, and take one day at a time. We will get there in the end.

I hope these thoughts are useful to those of you who have had or will be having endometriosis surgery. I would love to know if you have any other tips for aiding recovery and health! And what goals you have for yourself despite endometriosis/chronic illness.

Love, as always,
Claire
xxx

Adenomyosis: A one way ticket to hysterectomy?

April 14, 2016April 14, 2016 / Endo Lady UK / 48 Comments

Did you know that April is Adenomyosis awareness month?

I was diagnosed with this disease in August 2014, on the same day that I was also diagnosed with endometriosis. It really wasn’t my greatest day- but it did explain rather a lot. Like many people I had never even heard of adenomyosis before, so I was very taken aback to find out that I have it. Adeno-what?! When I wanted to learn more about this mystery illness that had been wrecking havoc on my insides, a quick internet search revealed (rather depressingly) that adenomyosis a) is the lesser understood evil cousin of endometriosis (and that is certainly saying something!), and b) is a leading cause of hysterectomy.

This hysterectomy factoid really bothered me from the start. It may be some form of Stockholm Syndrome, but I am really attached to all my lady parts and am not keen to loose them. However, reading about the experiences of other women with the disease on internet forums made me feel like having a hysterectomy is an inevitable part of my future. They describe the disease growing stronger until it takes over your life. Now don’t get me wrong, I want all women to feel empowered to make the choices that are right for them, and if a hysterectomy is going to relieve suffering then that’s great. But for a long time I lived in a state of panic, like my uterus is a ticking time-bomb waiting to explode. I tell myself that those joining support forums or having hysterectomies are those who have been worse affected by the disease, and may not be representative of the majority of women with adenomyosis.

I’ve gotten bored of living in fear and feeling that I have no control over what is happening to my body. I have written this post to answer some of the questions I am frequently asked about my experiences with adenomyosis, to try and figure out what may be waiting for me in the future, and to help raise awareness for this often debilitating much overlooked disease.

What is adenomyosis?

Adenomyosis is a benign chronic disease where the lining of the uterus (endometrium) grows into the muscle layer of the uterus (myometrium). This can happen diffusely throughout the uterus-appearing as little specks, or can lead to the formation of larger growths called adenomyomas.

What does adenomyosis feel like?
Having endometriosis in addition to adenomyosis, I used to find it difficult to determine precisely which symptoms were caused by each disease. Since having my endometriosis surgically excised I believe I now have a much clearer understanding of the effects that adenomyosis has on my body. It’s important to note though that each person experiences of disease is unique- how adenomyosis affects me may be completely different for somebody else.

For me, adenomyosis feels like a red hot poker is being slowly stabbed into my uterus over and over again. This used to only happen during my period, but now it strikes any time in my cycle. It’s basically uterus Armageddon. The disease also leads to a dull but intense aching sensation which radiates to my lower back and thighs. Like many women with the disease I also experience heavy periods with the presence of many clots, some of which are very large. I once had a clot the size of an egg- it was horrifying. I’ve tracked my periods since puberty and they have certainly become progressively heavier and more painful over the years.

A myriad of other symptoms have also been associated with adenomyosis. I have certainly experienced many of them to greater of lesser degrees, such as fatigue, aching joints, bloating, and a general feeling of malaise. Adenomyosis can also compromise bowel and bladder function, lead to anemia (from the prolonged heavy bleeding), and has been tentatively linked to depression. It’s effect on fertility is currently unclear as there has been little research on the subject, and the work that has been done is often confounded by the women also having a diagnosis of endometriosis. However, the general feeling appears to be that adenomyosis can negatively impact upon fertility outcomes, we just aren’t clear precisely why or how this is.

Over time adenomyosis can also cause the uterus to grow, and it can become extremely enlarged. This leads to severe abdominal swelling, making the it appear as though the woman is pregnant. I’ve had strangers ask me if I’m pregnant. It’s really upsetting, especially if you’re worrying about your fertility anyway.

Yeah..pretty much this.

Who gets adenomyosis?
If you read any published source on this disease it is likely to tell you that it primarily affects women in their late thirties and forties who have had multiple children. However, evidence is increasingly emerging that younger women can be affected by the disease, even young teenagers. Explore any online forum for adenomyosis and there are many women in their early twenties affected. I’m affected, I was diagnosed at 26 at it had clearly been going on inside me for quite a while.

It is likely that this age bias in the scientific literature stems from the fact diagnosis often relies on hysterectomy, and that women in their forties who have completed child bearing are more likely to take this option/ or be granted permission to take this option by their doctors.

My take home message here is that anybody with a uterus could have adenomyosis. If you have concerns about this based on your symptoms speak to your GP and request a referral to a gynecologist.

How is adenomyosis diagnosed?
I was initially diagnosed with adenomyosis during a laparoscopy in August 2014. After I woke from the anesthetic, my surgeon spent a long time detailing the numerous organs my endometriosis had damaged, and then ended her soliloquy with ”and you have a lumpy uterus”. No further explanation was provided and the term ‘adenomyosis’ itself was not mentioned, which really annoys me.

Fast forward six months and I am mid way through a trans-vaginal ultrasound at an endometriosis specialist center when the doctor says ”…and you have adenomyosis”. She said this so casually, like it was nothing. I’d pretty much worked this out from my own research following the whole ”lumpy uterus” comment, but it was still a huge blow and I cried my eyes out totally melodramatically for the rest of the day.

A historical reason why adenomyosis has been difficult to overlook is that is required examination of the uterus post-hysterectomy for a definitive diagnosis to be made. However, progress with scanning technologies, particularly MRI, means that adenomyosis is increasingly being diagnosed without the need for hysterectomy, and can be accurately distinguished from similar conditions such as fibroids or leiomyoma.

Obligatory stock photo of a woman with period pain.

Obligatory ridiculous stock photo of a woman with period pain. She isn’t swearing and crying?!

Is there a cure?
A hysterectomy will cure adenomyosis. Since it only affects the tissue within the uterus, removing this organ solves the problem.

It’s clearly great that we do technically have a cure, unlike endometriosis which has none. However, hysterectomy clearly isn’t ideal and a better solution is required which doesn’t take such a huge physical toll on the body or cause infertility. I am still hoping to have children soon, so ripping out my uterus really isn’t an option right now. Since I can’t use hormones (such as the pill or mirena coil) which can be used to help manage adenomyosis, I am effectively forced live with symptoms for the foreseeable future.

Getting worse each month.
Image credit: The Wondering Womb

What other treatment options are available?
Before taking the plunge and opting for a hysterectomy, there are alternatives you can try- that’s the good news. The bad news is most have limited success rates and lack rigorous scientific evaluation. Unfortunately, these techniques are also rarely recommend for women who still wish to conceive in the future, as they risk causing damage to the uterus. I have very briefly summarized some of the most commonly used options below. For more information check out the links here and here.

Endometrial ablation: A procedure that destroys or removes the uterus lining (the endometrium). This prevents any further bleeding (or bleeding is reduced to light spotting) in the hope of preventing further progression of adenomyosis over time. This procedure is offered to women seeking to avoid hysterectomy, but is clearly not an option for women seeking to preserve their fertility.

Myometrial/ adenomyoma excision: If the location of the adenomyosis can be determined through scanning on MRI or ultrasound etc, then it is possible for the diseased tissue to be surgically cut out (excised). This technique is only possible if the adenomyosis has not spread to a high proportion of the uterus. Due to difficulties with defining the margins of the adenomyosis the success rate of this procedure is currently estimated to be less than 50%.

Myometrial electrocoagulation: This procedure has the ability to shrink adenomyosis deposits within the myometrium. It is carried out during a laparoscopic surgery, and using electrical current in the form of heat to destroy the adenomyosis deposits. However, this procedure is deemed less effective overall than excision owing to the fact that it is difficult to determine when the current has completed it’s work, risking diseased tissue being left behind.

Magenetic resonance-guided focused ultrasound: This is similar to myometrial electrocoagulation, using heat to destroy adenomyosis tissue. However, it has the additional advantage of being more greatly focused so that less damaged occurs to healthy surrounding tissue. However, this treatment approach is fairly new for use with people who have adenomyosis, and further research is required to ascertain its full impact.

What treatments have I tried?
I was taking the oral contraceptive pill for 8 of the last 10 years. It certainly helped to suppress many of my symptoms, although the disease was still spreading inside of me. I am not currently taking any medication or undergoing treatment as I am trying to conceive. As a consequence I often worry that my adenomyosis is getting worse with each period.

Why are you so annoyed about this?
On a personal level I am so and upset that I have to battle with another disease (on top on my endometriosis, chronic fatigue, and depression) to contend with. It just seems so unfair, but I know that’s how life is sometimes, so I’m trying to deal with it as best I can. As with my endometriosis, I am constantly frustrated that nobody has heard of adenomyosis- which basically means you get zero sympathy. Not that I really care about sympathy, but feeling understood and supported makes such a difference to living well with any chronic condition.

The lack of awareness has a more significant and darker impact than on just myself and is so damaging to women everywhere; it means there is limited research funding, no charity to advocate for us (at least this is so in the UK), and treatment options that come with extreme side effects and/or impact on the body. When you Google adenomyosis, speak to your GP about it, or delve into the research literature you basically get this response:

The unanswered questions about this disease are fundamental and numerous.

This simply isn’t good enough. I even had to explain to my GP what adenomyosis is! I mentioned to a fellow endo sister that I have it and she replied with the perfect and sensitive comment: ”I am so sorry.” Not ”What’s that?” or ”I think my cousins sisters aunts daughter had that!”, or a <silence, blank expression>. Her response actually took me by surprise, and I realised it’s because I have never really received any compassion since my diagnosis, nor given any to myself. Most of my family and friends can’t even pronounce adenomyosis. Seriously- if you want to support your loved ones and at least appear interested LEARN TO PRONOUNCE THEIR DISEASE please people!

We deserve so much better than this state of affairs. There are so many of us fighting adenomyosis on a daily basis in relative silence. We will continue to do so, and if I am brutally honest at times it’s pretty difficult to hope that things will be better for us any time soon. April is Adenomyosis awareness month, and I am finally ready to start speaking up. Are you?

Where can I find out more?
These resources have all proved useful to me for researching about this condition.
Review article by Taran, Stweart, & Brucker (2013)
Endopeadia
The Endo Patients Survival Guide
Adenomyosis Advice Association
Adenomyosis Fighters

So that’s my adenomyosis story. It isn’t pretty, and I’m not sure if a happy ending is on the horizon. Maybe a hysterectomy will be a part of my future, but maybe it won’t. Until then, I plan to keep fighting and making the decisions that are best for my body and mental wellbeing. I would love to hear about your experiences and thoughts on this disease. What symptoms do you have? What treatments have you tried? And, what have you accomplished in spite of this disease?

Love,
Claire
xx

My TERRIBLE brain fog is now just brain mist. Time to celebrate!

November 12, 2015 / Endo Lady UK / 3 Comments

Following my excision surgery a few months ago I am generally feeling much better. By no means perfect, and I have found that my adenomyosis is much louder now that it isn’t being drowned out by endometriosis pain (but that is a story for another time).

One of the biggest changes I have noticed post-op is to my energy levels, my endo-fatigue has been dramatically reduced, which I’m so pleased about as it was having such a hugely detrimental impact on my life. A knock-on-effect of this also appears to be that my ‘brain fog’ (you know, that terrible feeling that you brain has been replaced with cotton wool which makes forming any type of coherent thought neigh impossible) has all but disappeared. It’s more of a ‘brain mist’ now I’d say. Admittedly, being off work and having loads of time to just rest and recuperate has probably helped a lot in this area too.

To celebrate its welcome absence, I have decided to list some of the most stupid and/or hilarious things I had done in the last few years because of brain fog (and in homage to this excellent post on the February Stars blog that really cheered me up when brain fog was greatly upsetting me). Enjoy!

01/ Turning off the lights in our bedroom for us to go to sleep, immediately forgetting I’d done this, and shouting: ”Mr B, I think we’ve had a power cut, the light has gone out for NO REASON!” His face was a picture.

02/ My mum sent me to a fabric shop to buy some ribbons for a gift she wanted to wrap. I’ve been to this shop hundreds of times since childhood. I completely forgot how to get there and wondered around our town center completely lost and in a daze for 30 minutes, before having to ask a stranger for directions.

03/ Forgetting the word ‘limitations’ when trying to write the ‘limitations section’ of my PhD, and subsequently having to describe the word ‘Taboo’ style to my colleagues in attempt to identify it.

04/ Unpacking my shopping and putting the milk in our cupboard under the sink and kitchen towels in the fridge.

05/ Attempting to get ready for work in the morning and beginning to cleanse my face with nail varnish remover! It’s a good job I started with my cheek and not my eye or this site could be about my experience of living with blindness.

I was very much like that classic scene in Home Alone where Kevin uses aftershave.

06/ Locking myself out of my car, and having to phone my husband and/or colleagues to come and rescue me. Three times in one year! My husband was so annoyed last time as he had a two hour drive to come and pick me up, and had to leave work. Oops!

07/ Five lost debit and credit cards in one year- and having to explain to my bank that I am not doing it deliberately.

08/ Coming across as a slightly mental pathological liar on more than one occasion. This actual conversation I had in a support group is a pretty good example…Me: I use this awesome app several times a day to track my symptoms. Friend: That sounds great, what’s the app called? Me: <Long Pause> I don’t know.

09/ Numerous ‘shower fails’ including forgetting to shampoo my wet hair or forgetting to wash out shampoo and/or conditioner, and having to look rather unkempt for the rest of the day.

10/ The ability to perform basic maths has frequently deluded me. At dinner with a friend and she asks if I want to split the £30 bill- I get my phone out to use the calculator as she looks at me like ‘really?!’.

So there you have it. I’d love to hear some of your more hilarious brain fog moments too- I could always do with a laugh! Also, if you’ve got any tips for helping to manage this horrible symptom please do share it here.

Love,

Claire

My experience of living with diaphragmatic endometriosis.

October 14, 2015August 10, 2016 / Endo Lady UK / 201 Comments

Ah, the diaphragm- a sheet of skeletal muscle only a quarter of an inch thick and located beneath the lungs. It plays a crucial role in facilitating the lungs to inhale and exhale (aka breathing), and in separating the thoracic cavity (containing the heart and lungs) from the abdominal cavity (containing your stomach, liver etc).

Who knew such a tiny organ could produce such armageddon like pain!

The diaphragm is a greatly under appreciated organ in my experience- like most people I’d never given mine a second thought until it was attacked by endometriosis and became extremely pissed off. From that point my diaphragm started to control my life, and let to much confusion, misdiagnoses, and experimenting with alternative therapies before we worked out what was wrong!

I was officially diagnosed with diaphragmatic endometriosis (sometimes interchangeably known as ‘thoracic endometriosis’) during my first laparoscopy in 2014. Since my entire endometriosis diagnosis came as a bit of a shock, this particular piece of information didn’t stand out as particularly alarming. At that moment I did not know (nor was I informed- thanks doc) that endometriosis in this region is extremely rare , strongly associated with severe pelvic disease, and in extreme cases may cause catamenial pneumothorax- where a lung collapses around the time of menstruation! I definitely think I’d have requested follow up sooner if I’d know this!

Conducting my own research on this topic post-surgery was a real eye opener, a massive EUREKA! moment in fact. Did you know, for example, that the shoulder/back/neck pain caused by diaphramatic endo is actually referred pain caused by irritation of the phrenic nerve? Or that the majority of cases affect the right side of the diaphram rather than the left, due to a process called embryonic patterning? Finding accurate and detailed information was not easy though, even my beloved ‘Endometriosis For Dummies’ book revealed zilch. The reading I did manage to do somewhat perpetuated my feeling of loneliness at first, as I did not meet anyone else in my support group or online for quite some time who also suffered in this way. And for me, my diaphragmatic symptoms made up a significant amount of my pain.

What was fascinating though was how many women have approached me interested in this topic, and with lots of their questions and concerns relating to it. Many suggested they could not find many personal accounts online or research to compare their own symptoms too, and suggested that many doctors had been dismissive of their concerns because the condition is rare. Because of this, I’ve decided to write this post to address the most frequent questions that I am asked, and to tell my own story in greater detail. I hope you find this helpful! 🙂

How was your diaphragmatic endometriosis diagnosed, and what exactly was found?

As mentioned above, I was diagnosed during a laparoscopic surgery in 2014. This surgery was performed by a general gynecologist not an endometriosis specialist. Two nodules, a small amount of scarring, and an endometrioma (Yes! You read that right! An endometrioma!) were found on the right side of my diaphragm. I had previously had a number of ultrasound and MRI scans on my chest area which had (very frustratingly) come back clear.

Some of the endometriosis nodules found on my diaphragm.

What symptoms do you experience as a result of your diaphragmatic endometriosis?

I initially began to experience right shoulder tip pain in 2012. This was a sharp sensation comparable to the oh so miserable gas pains experienced after a laparoscopy. This pain made moving my right arm very difficult.

Over time the pain spread into my back, neck, and arm, and became a daily feature of my life. I have marked the precise locations on the diagram below. Much of this pain felt muscular to me, like a deep burning pain after working out too hard. I actually began to have frequent massages (FYI- they didn’t help my pain, just to empty my bank account) as I was convinced I had just pulled a muscle in my shoulder at the gym.

Where I experience pain from my diaphragmatic endometriosis.

You know when you have a bad bruise on your skin and you press it with your finger- the whole right hand side of my back felt like this to the touch. My GP (mis)diagnosed me with Repetitive Strain Injury (RSI) and gave me some medication for this (which again, didn’t help). When my symptoms flared up, breathing would sometimes become very difficult and something I would have to concentrate on. I also found it impossible to sleep lying down and had to prop myself up with a number of pillows or sleep on the sofa sitting up.

I cannot over-empahise how agonising diaphragmatic endometriosis has been for me. It has definitely been the worst pain I have EVER experienced. During the summer of 2013 it flared up so badly that I had to spend 3 weeks in bed as I was literally unable to move my arm, back or neck without almost passing out from pain. It was a really frightening time. As an interesting anecdotal side note, the other women I have met with this have said the same thing about how extreme the pain is, so I don’t think this is one of those cases of me being weird!

What impact has endometriosis on the diaphragm had on your quality of life?

To be completely honest, a massive and catastrophic impact. Having your right arm incapacitated on regular but random intervals made having a ‘normal’ life very challenging . Severe flare ups would often last for several weeks at a time and meant that I couldn’t drive to the office, work on my PhD on my computer, cook for myself, exercise, or socialise etc. It was around this time I started to become isolated and depression took a strong hold of me, one that still has not let go.

What treatments have you used, and how effective were they?

I found that my diaphragmatic symptoms, as with my other general endometriosis symptoms, respond well to anti-inflammatory medication and to heat. Not well enough to use drive or exercise, but enough to stop me from passing out at least. It’s the small victories we must celebrate in such hard times. Taking the combined contraceptive pill over the last year prevented any major flare ups and been a total lifesaver in many respects, but I would still get mild shoulder and back pain on some occasions.

Fairly sure this is my future, much heat pad abuse is going on.

In my most recent surgery I had the endometriosis excised from my diaphragm! It was pretty exciting for me, as I wasn’t sure if they were going to be able to remove it, as they had warned me this may have to happen in a separate surgery at a later date. I’m hoping this is going to solve my problems in this area, but will have to report back in a couple of months time. So far so good though, no symptoms to report 🙂

My doctor/consultant/surgeon won’t take my concerns about this seriously, what should I do?

I’d print out and take this paper with you, and insist on them taking your concerns seriously. Or ask for a referral to an endometriosis specialist– I’d like to hope they’d at least entertain the idea that endo can hijack the diaphragm (please feel free to correct me if I’m wrong). It is possible for surgeons to check your diaphragm during a laparoscopy if you do have concerns. You may have to ask though as not all doctors routinely check this area.

Do you have any further information about diaphragmatic endometriosis that you have found useful?

I found these two endopaedia articles (see here and here) to be an informative and accessible starting point.

So that is my story so far with diaphragmatic endometriosis. I’m frustrated that this problem, yet again, took years to sort out and involved misdiagnosis, but I am happy that I have now had the surgery that will (hopefully) solve the problem. Meeting other people with the condition, and speaking to other women about their concerns, has been so helpful in my recovery process and has taught me so much more than reading. Most of all, I have certainly come to love my diaphragm and appreciate what it does for me 🙂

Please do let me know your thoughts or if you have any other specific questions. Always interested to hear from anyone else who suffers with diaphragmatic and/or thoracic endometriosis too, do my symptoms match your own?

Love,
Claire
xx

How a military style boot-camp helps to manage my chronic pain from endometriosis.

April 21, 2015August 10, 2016 / Endo Lady UK / 1 Comment

Trying to exercise and keep fit when you have a chronic illness is a weird experience, as I have come to realise over the past year. In attempt to gain some control back over my health I joined a military-style boot camp class about 11 months ago and have been attending at least three times a week ever since. I see lots of debate online about the benefits of exercise for chronically ill people, and whether exercising is even achievable for us, so I thought writing about my own experiences might be helpful.

I think the first thing to acknowledge is that my fitness journey has not been easy. Some of the barriers to maintaining my program over the past year have been as follows:

Lacking the physical and mental energy required: When you feel terrible ALL THE TIME, the last thing you feel like doing is dragging yourself outside to run around a field. About 97% of the time my body is commanding me to lie down to sleep and/or eat chocolate. The incredible amount of sheer will power it takes to pick yourself up and go out to exercise is truly beyond the comprehension of most people who have not experienced it. I’ve dragged myself out feeling physically sick from fatigue or with horrible cramps more times than I can remember- and I always class this as a huge achievement in itself regardless of what happens at my training session.

Maintaining confidence in yourself and your own journey: When everyone else seems super fit and are breezing through the exercises, and you’ve got bad cramps and are wheezing away at the back of the group it can knock your confidence. I’m always careful to focus on my own improvements and achievements rather than comparing myself to other in the group (who blatantly don’t know how easy they have it ;-p). And as I gradually improve, the more confident I feel.

Needing the willpower to pick yourself up when you’ve fallen off the wagon: If I’ve had a flare or a surgery etc I won’t have exercised for a week and maybe much longer. Picking yourself up and getting back into the routine can be really tough, and you often need people around you to give you a little nudge in the right direction. For me that comes from the fitness trainer who sends me nice text messages and from my friends in the group who are keen to catchup with me.

Having to face other people’s ‘little comments’: Loads of people have insinuated that I can’t really be *that* ill if I am able to exercise on a regular basis. For a while this actually made me question myself about how sick I actually am, but I now know how stupid this is as well as being downright rude. But I’ve realised that these people are just trying to make sense of the two conflicting narratives I am presenting them with- very sick person and dedicated fitness guru. Heck, I’m still trying to make sense of that myself. I try to explain to them how difficult it can be, how I have to work at my own pace, and about how exercise has been helping to safeguard and improve my health. They still don’t get it, but that’s OK, this is about me.

This. Always this.

So, exercising with endometriosis can be tough. I should also point out that before my diagnosis I had several failed attempts at getting fit, as I didn’t know what I was doing or why I was ill so I was unable to manage myself and just made all my symptoms worse. That was pretty demotivating.

However, I think these things are far outweighed by the physical and psychological benefits I have experienced since starting my boot-camp program. For example, a couple of months ago I took a break from the exercise because of work commitments, and my pain went off the scale, which then prevented me from rejoining the group. After a while I realised my pain just wasn’t going to get better so I went back anyway. And since then I’ve only taken painkillers one time instead of multiple times a day. Many times I’ve turned up to a session in pain, only to feel it melt away as I get going. I cannot emphasize enough the huge difference exercising regularly has made to reducing my chronic pain and fatigue. My bowel problems have made a significant improvement too. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not miraculously cured, but I am in a much better place with my life now. This effect takes a few weeks of solid routine to kick in though, and during this period you do risk being more tired and experiencing more flare-ups. Pushing through while also looking after yourself is the challenge to master here. Searching online, I found examples of other women with endometriosis who have had similar results (see here for one example), so I encourage you to read them if you’re thinking of taking up some for of physical activity.

Get me squatting like a badass! The beautiful scenery motivates me too.

Attending the classes has also had a profound effect on my mental health, which has taken a considerable battering since gaining my endometriosis diagnosis. When driving to each session, those dark little voices in my mind are chanting ‘you can’t do this, you can’t do this, you can’t do this.‘ But every single time I do, and I never miss the opportunity to reflect on what an accomplishment that is. I honestly never feel more alive or strong or healthy than when I’m running around on that field, sweating like a pig. Sometimes it is the only point in the week where I actually feel alive; not in pain, anxious, alone, or depressed. This makes me realise how strong and fearless I can be. I’ve also made some really lovely friends at the sessions, and that helps when you’re going through a tough time.

And I can’t write this post without acknowledging what a wonderful fitness trainer I have. I’m not religious and I don’t believe in fate or anything, but he seems to have come into my life at exactly the right time to help me through this endometriosis crisis. Isn’t it funny when these things happen?? The way he has supported and looked out for me has been very special- reading up on fitness management for endometriosis and chronic pain. He is also brilliant at tailoring the sessions to suit my needs on any given day depending on how I’m feeling.- he gets that balance of when to push me and when to stop me totally right. He can tell from the smallest of looks on my face how I am feeling and will talk to me about it in such a sensitive and thoughtful way. To this day when I answered the question ‘How are you?” with my usual ”Fine thanks’‘ he is the only person to look at me and say ”I know you’re not. Life’s just a bit shit right now yeah?” Cue floods of tears. When I had a break and was in constant terrible pain (as I mentioned above), he gave me free personal training sessions for a month to get back into things and to help me develop my confidence again. He is totally life coaching me too- this guy is an absolute legend.

So if you’re interested in taking up exercise to help with your endometriosis, I have the following tips from my own fitness journey that may be helpful. This is, of course, aimed at people who are not incapacitated from their endometriosis and are capable of being up and about most days. I totally accept that some people are in too much pain to exercise:

Start slowly and build it up- maybe with swimming and/or walking. I went head first into a boot-camp (as I’m pathologically drawn to extremes) but I wouldn’t actually recommend doing that straight away.
Try and find a trainer/ instructor who you can confide in, and who is knowledgeable and supportive.
Build a fitness plan and stick to it- maybe Monday, Wednesday and Fridays as non-negotiable, even if you are feeling tired or awful.
But conversely, know your limits and if you are too unwell stay at home and don’t beat yourself up about it.
If you can do something, it is always better than doing nothing, even if it is just a walk.
Join a group activity- you will meet new people and it will keep you accountable for sticking to your program. You will turn up if they’re waiting for you.
And lastly, believe in yourself. You CAN do it and you deserve the benefits it will give to you!

I’d love to hear your stories (positive or negative) about exercise and endometriosis. What type of activities work for you and what doesn’t? 🙂

Love,
Claire
xxx

I FINALLY had my hospital appointment. It didn’t go to plan.

March 4, 2015August 10, 2016 / Endo Lady UK / 8 Comments

As I have mentioned in previous posts, I have been waiting for quite a few months for my appointment at an endometriosis specialist center in London. I’ve been pinning so much hope onto this appointment, and it’s the only thing been pulling me through the last few months, thinking I would finally get some help and support. My family were even more excited for the appointment than me, as they are just desperate for me to start getting better or for some progress to be made in my care and treatment. The appointment was this Monday, but of course, this is ‘The Endo Lady Show’ and so it didn’t go to plan. WHY DO NONE OF MY PLANS GO TO PLAN? Let me tell you what happened…it’s quite a long and complicated story so please do stick with me.

Even arranging the appointment itself was no mean feat, as my GP wasn’t keen on the idea. She didn’t think it was necessary as she said ”endometriosis isn’t a big deal.” Anyway, she did eventually agree to the referral (after much begging), and I received an appointment through the post quite a few weeks later, on Christmas eve. Unfortunately, it was clearly for the wrong department (diagnostic gynecology), so I cancelled it and called my GP’s booking department to point out the error. I gave them the exact details they needed to make my appointment through NHS choose and book, and a couple of weeks later I received a letter from my GP practice saying the appointment had been made and listing the time, date, and clinic number. This whole process took around 4 months, which is quite a long time I think. Still, I was booked in, and apart from another long wait of 15 weeks all was well I thought.

My partner and I arrived at UCLH with plenty of time to spare and made our way to the clinic number I’d been given. I signed in and was asked to complete a short medical questionnaire, which I did no problem. Two hours later we were still sat in the waiting room and I hadn’t been seen. I thought this was pretty weird so I went to check up on what was happening with the receptionist. Turns out they’d forgotten me- can you believe that?! So that wasn’t a good start. I get really anxious in hospital waiting rooms so I was feeling really agitated and exhausted by this point. The administrative staff were totally panic stricken about it though in a slightly hilarious way, and one receptionist actually chased a consultant down the corridor to tell them I was still here.

Around 30 minutes later a registrar came to collect me and led me down the hallway to her office. The first thing she told me was that this was not the specialist center and that I had been referred to the wrong place. She said they had realised as soon as they received my referral that it was for the wrong department. Time stood completely still for a moment and I felt sick to my stomach, but somehow I managed to hold my shit together, smile, and continue with the appointment without going elaborately insane. She told me she would happily refer me to the right place and that this would require an in-depth health interview and a trans-vaginal ultrasound which we could do there-and-then. I had written down a list of all my symptoms to take with me, and I made sure she noted them all down in my questionnaire responses.

I’d never had a trans-vaginal ultrasound before, and I can’t say it was a pleasant experience. I actually threw up when she was pushing on my ovaries because the pain was so bad. So that was pretty awkward. On a positive note, the doctor was able to map the current state of my endometriosis pretty clearly, so I am now much more up-to-date on where things currently stand. Sadly she said that the endometrioma on my right ovary that I had removed in August is growing again with a vengeance, and that I now also have a cyst on my left fallopian tube. Since my surgery my right ovary has also become attached to the back of my uterus and abdomen wall, explaining the increase in my pain on the right hand side. And for the cherry on top, she also said that I have adenomyosis. Lucky me! I’m not sure about the extent of this though as she didn’t go into detail.

When I was being told these things I just went totally numb inside. That seems to be my go-to response in a crisis. The registrar then left me for around 20 minutes while she went to arrange my appointment at the specialist center. When she came back she looked really sheepish, and said that the next available appointment she could make for me is in May- three months away. I hate that I did this, but I actually broke down in tears at this point. Months and months of anxiety and anticipation just caught up with me. I told her I just don’t know how I can wait that long, since I have been trying to get this referral since August. I told her about how badly the pain and fatigue is affecting my PhD and my mental wellbeing. She was super apologetic and I could see she felt bad for me. She said she can see from my notes and scan how desperately I need to be seen by the center, and she has made sure I am at the top of the waiting list for cancelled appointments.

So that’s where I am again now. Still waiting- for answers to all my questions, for help, for advice. Still in limbo. Still worrying myself half to death about all my cysts and endometriomas. By the time I have my appointment at the specialist center, I will have been waiting to see a specialist for 10 months-that can’t be OK can it?! There are loads of people in my support group who were diagnosed after I was, but who are light years ahead in their treatment in comparison to me. I’m happy for them, I’m not bitter or begrudging, but I just want the same for myself.

I’ve had several severe panic attacks since my appointment and I haven’t gone back to work yet. I’m a bit of a mess to be honest. I usually do a fairly convincing job of staying strong and positive, but I’m feeling so broken and lost right now. I just want to give up. Since being diagnosed in August I’ve had to battle so hard to make any progress at all in my care, and I’ve still basically gotten nowhere. I actually want to make some complaints I think because I’m so angry; about my GPs attitude to my care, to my first hospital (Addenbrooke’s) for giving me no followup or treatment-plan, an to UCLH for seeing my referral was to the wrong department but for accepting it anyway and delaying my correct referral by several months (I can just about forgive them forgetting my existance as I sat in their waiting room!).

I’d really appreciate hearing your thoughts and feedback about this. Am I right to feel upset, or am I just being melodramatic? I really don’t know anymore. Do you have any advice on making constructive complaints? Also, if you have any thoughts or tips about adenomyosis please do let me know them.

Love,
Claire
xxx

I blame my endometriosis!

February 4, 2015August 10, 2016 / Endo Lady UK / 2 Comments

Since being diagnosed with endometriosis I seem to blame the disease for every health problems I have ever experienced. This ranges from the obviously related stuff (e.g. stomach pains, fatigue, and heavy bleeding etc) to the more exotic complaints (e.g. every sniffle, joint pains, breathing difficulties, shoulder pain, migraines etc).

On a positive note, it is so encouraging to have a ‘label’ that enables me to make sense of all the weird things that have been going on inside my body. When I recently started getting severe sciatic pain in my leg for instance, I could look at my fiance and say ”damn endo”, take some ibuprofen, and then carry on with my life without worrying that I have leg cancer or something like pre-diagnosis me would have.

However, it occurred to me a little while ago that some of my symptoms may not be endometriosis related, but I am making no effort to investigate them as I just presume that they are. It’s like I never learn from life lessons; one reason that my endometriosis took ages to diagnose was told that I had IBS, so I attributed almost every twinge, pain or ache I experienced to that without ever questioning it.

I have this vision of having a heart attack or something when I am older, and when people try to call me an ambulance being like ”oh no, don’t worry, stop making a fuss, it’s just my endometriosis. Make me a hot water bottle and I will be OK.” :-D.

In the back of my mind, I sometimes worry that if I developed something serious that all my crazy endometriosis symptoms would drown out the warning signs. For now, I am just going to carry on blocking these thoughts out until my specialist hospital appointment in March. I can reassess from there I think.

So, I’m interested to know about the range of symptoms/ experiences that you attribute to your endometriosis, without being certain that it is the actual cause. Also, have you ever been ignored or misdiagnosed by doctors who attributed your concerns to your endometriosis without adequate investigation?

Love, as always,
Claire
xxx

Chronically creative! My proposed solution for crippling fatigue.

December 6, 2014December 9, 2014 / Endo Lady UK / 5 Comments

The thing I hate the most about my endometriosis is the free gift of chronic fatigue that it comes with. I can be such a warrior in the face of even the worst pain imaginable, but this constant, grinding, debilitating exhaustion has really knocked the life and pizazz right out of me. I honestly used to be the life and soul of the party, but right now, even the word ‘party’ makes me cringe. It’s also obliterated my short term memory, which as a PhD student is really not ideal. What’s strange is the fatigue crept up on me so slowly that I can’t really pin-point when it began for me, or when exactly it started to be a big problem. With hindsight, I think that I was in slight denial about how bad it had gotten before receiving my endometriosis diagnosis, I just thought I was depressed or something. The fact that is is here to stay in blinking alarming though! I really need to work out how to live a good life with this chipping away at me.

In contrast to pain management, effectively tackling chronic fatigue seems a lot more complicated and less well understood. When I asked my GP for advice for example, she stared at me blankly and then suggested that chronic fatigue isn’t a symptom of endometriosis. So that was pretty much useless. I think it is pretty weird that this symptom has never been mentioned to me by any of my doctors, especially considering how commonly it is experienced by women with endometriosis. My fellow bloggers and tweeters have been much more helpful, and seem to offer advice centering on forward planning your time to prevent over-exertion which can exacerbate fatigue. This blog post provides a particularly helpful summary of thinking in this area.

I’ve been giving this a go, although it’s easier said than done and doesn’t really doesn’t come naturally to me- I think I have a tendency to run around and burn myself out. My mum says I’m a classic Sagittarius in that way *rolls eyes*. Having had a good root around on twitter, I came across Christine Donato’s ‘spoon theory’, which is worth a read if you have time. When explaining her chronic illness and fatigue to a friend while eating lunch in a cafe, she used spoons to represents units of energy, which a chronically ill person must choose how to spend in order to undertake the daily tasks of living and socialising.

Being mindful of my ‘spoons’ has been very helpful I think, certainly in respects to planning my weekly schedule more carefully. I also like that the theory is linked to an active online community through the hashtags: #spoonies and #spoonieproblems, where people with a range of chronic illness share information, advice and sympathy. However, using this approach I sometimes feel that I still missing out on too much of life, like social events which should be things to look forward to, not dread. Also, for myself personally, I think the spoon theory falls down slightly as I think it can imply that you wake up with a full set of energy, whereas for myself and many others, this isn’t the case. But these are minor quibbles, overall it rocks and is actually quite empowering.

In light of my recent efforts- to cheer myself up and encourage myself to keep going, I decided to buy myself a little gift of a spoon necklace. I figured this way I will always have at least one spoon, and so will never run out of them entirely! 🙂 This plan can’t fail right?! I also find regular exercise can be really energising, but it can be a vicious cycle as I often find I am feeling to exhausted to exercise in the first place.

In my head, I’m hilarious.

As ever, your thoughts and experiences on chronic fatigue, and how you manage it, would be very much appreciated. My pizazz my be temporarily on shut-down, but I am determined to get it back, one way or another! Have you shared the spoon theory with friends and/or family? If so, has it been useful?