All about ME... Part 1.

Someone asked me to explain the history of my illness the other day. I don't know how I can compact this into a blog post without writing a whole essay.. It's quite a task! Gradual parts, I think, is the way forward. I didn't realise quite how much of it I blocked out my brain until I talked about it with my parents a little while ago. Hopefully it makes sense; here it goes:


Growing up; I was a bubbly blonde happy go lucky girl who took part in practically everything. I loved life and spent most my time at gymnastics, sea cadets, dance, cycling and tons of other things. I loved school, I was a normal kid who was rarely ill.


Age 10: I moved schools due to moving house. (Big Mistake of life No1.) I missed my friends chronically and for some reason I could not glue into this school whatsoever.


Age 11: I moved into a class where I didn't get on well with most of my class mates. I only had one friend (The wonderful Beth, who is still near and dear to me) and my teacher decided to put her into a different class to me. 


I got bullied, physically and mentally by a few girls in my class. One would even be as so bold to kick my legs on the way home from school despite walking back with my own mother.  I got sworn at, spat at and pretty much humiliated in front of my whole class on a regular occasion. Kids can be so cruel.  The reason? Because I spoke nicely. Supposedly I was too "posh" to fit in. I'm a very friendly and open person and it really got me down. I also got accused of stealing a (cheap and half used) lipstick by a girl who then spread the rumour through the whole year. I hated not being liked and for some reason I wasn't just disliked.. I was pretty much hated. Not that I was ever popular in my previous school but this was another level of loserdom. I didn't want to go to school any more; it was misery. I pretty much didn't want to be alive anymore. My family and Beth were about the only things keeping me going.


Not that I knew it for many years until being told by Great Ormond Street, but I'd actually contracted Glandular Fever through my brother at the same time. It all went downhill from there. The combination of the Kent Test (11+), being bullied badly and the GF my body started to cave in. I couldn't eat without being in pain, I lost so much weight and I physically couldn't get out of bed anymore. My body ached all over, my throat was sore, my glands were up and I could barely make it up the stairs at home without giving out half way up. It took forever for the doctors to diagnose me, a good year at least. Problem was ME/CFS, back then was non existent. Known as "Yuppie Flu" or "The Fakers Disease" If only!!


 Luckily my parents took me to a private physician out of pure desperateness and even luckier for us, he happened to be one of the leading doctors in the field of ME. He wrote to Great Ormond Street to get me on the list to see the specialist.. but that didn't happen till quite some time later.


In the meantime I'd passed my 11+ and had been accepted into a local all girl's Grammar School. (Not going to name names here) My parents were very proud of me bar the fact that I struggled with life. The new teachers had reassured my parents that I would be looked after and helped with my learning considering I struggled to concentrate for an hour without developing sickness and dizzyness. I lost count of the amount of times I'd fainted.. I'd just keel over at any given moment. Beleive me when I say, that school = Biggest Mistake of my Life. 


I spent the Summer in hospital.. about 7 weeks being "monitored". I had ECG's, blood tests and   practically every other test under the sun to see what was wrong with me. It was a boiling Summer and I'd be huddled up under fleece pajamas and hot water bottles. All a bit strange really. The doctors still couldn't figure it out although they had worked out I had developed at least one stomach ulcer. (No wonder I couldn't eat!!) I dropped down to well under 5 stone and spent pretty much most my time in bed, or in a wheelchair. By now I had such bad insomnia I was lucky to get 3 hours sleep a night. My poor parents; they were at their wit's end. 


I think that's enough for now. Considering that's only the first 2 years and my concentration is failing me. Don't pity me though; this story is what makes me who I am now. A walking, talking survivor who happens to know everything and anything about drugs :-)


Part Deux.. coming soon!