I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the labels we have attached to us when we have a chronic physical or mental illness. They are powerful labels that can be associated with a lot of stigma, sadness or make you feel a little bit hopeless. I am trying to think of labels as something I ‘have’ rather than ‘am’.
When you have any kind of illness (mental or physical), it’s often likely that you will receive a diagnosis or something that labels the struggles you are having. Sometimes there can be a huge relief from having an understanding of what is happening for you, or a diagnosis / label that can lead to additional support or treatment; but sometimes a label can feel like a negative thing, it can lead to feelings of hopeless and shame.
As someone who has had difficulties with their mental health for a number of years, I have experienced the challenging and often complicated feelings that come with being given a label for a condition. It feels like some illnesses and difficulties can rate higher on a scale of what’s socially acceptable; whereas others aren’t spoken about and feel almost taboo. Some conditions are frowned upon and seen as ‘fake’ or unworthy of support or care.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the other labels that represent me. I have mental and physical health conditions but I’m not ‘broken’ or ‘mad’; I’m poorly and that’s ok. It’s not my fault and it doesn’t have to be my identity. I ‘have’ mental and physical illness, which is a part of my life that I have to manage daily. But I am also learning to love that I am a creative who can write, paint, journal, crochet and think in ways that are a little out of the box. I’m a writer, fundraiser, project manager, sister, daughter, cat mumma… and so much more. I am proud of who I am and I won’t let my illness take that away from me.
It’s hard to believe that time can pass so fast, yet so slowly, at the same time! I can’t liken the feeling of chronic illness to anything other for those who do not suffer to understand. On one hand, days feel like they last forever, stretching on and on as the pain consumes you and you’re unable to complete the simplest task that others take for granted. It’s like a bizarre time loop where it’s always not quite time for something. Not quite time for more painkillers, not quite time for lunch, not quite time for a programme that you enjoy, not quite time for that appointment yet, not quite time for a companion to visit. So your days go on and on like this, dragging and stretching and it never quite being the time for something to happen. Then suddenly, 6 months have passed and you don’t remember any of it. Not for any other reason other than nothing has really happened to remember. And it is this bizarre new concept of time that I have found most difficult to come to terms with throughout my chronic illness.
Will time ever seem normal again? It seems like becoming nocturnal is the only solution to sleep. Attempting to sleep during evening hours is often very unfruitful and can lead to a vast expanse of time dedicated to counting the marks on the ceiling, or contemplating the location of different body parts of mythical creatures. Laying in bed with your snoring partner can also lead to unsociable thoughts like “If I hold his nose, will he shut up?” and “How many elbow jabs are required to turn him over?” Although there are moments when collecting this data can be entertaining, the novelty soon wears off. Any attempts to be productive during the day will frequently lead to lengthy naps, rendering this time useless too.
After all, there are only so many times one person can watch the beginning of the same Judge Rinder episode before saving it for the next day. And for me, that limit is six.
Hi, I’m Roz, and I’m the artist behind North Mayo Fine Art.
I’ve been creating art for most of my life, but have been an artist for 3 years. I might not have become an artist, had it not been for the fact that I became disabled, with multiple chronic illnesses, and became housebound.
I want to tell you a bit about what happened to me, and why I’m thankful that my life took the turn that it did.
I started to draw at a young age, and could always be found with a pad and pencil in my hand. My first drawings were the normal, square houses with the sun in the corner, and the V shaped birds. I remember drawing various animals including lambs, chicks and a horse that I was so proud of, and my people were the typical triangle body and fat arms and hands that rolled into one object. I was so proud of my drawings, and thought that they were the best drawings in the world.
I took art at school and enjoyed it so much that I asked the head of the art department whether I could take an extra GCSE in art, which I did (I did 2D and 3D art) I then went on to do a GNVQ in Art and Design in the Sixth Form.
I decided to get a job, and at that point my drawing took a step back, but I still dabbled in it from time to time. I always wanted to work in photorealistic art and that was always in the back of my mind.
Fast forward a few years, and I met my husband, and we decided to start a family, and thats where it all went wrong (for me).
Without going into a lot of detail (and boring you all), my pelvis broke and fused back together in the wrong place, and no one did anything about it. My consultant said it was normal pregnancy pain and I was just exaggerating it for attention. I was so angry. It happened again during the 2nd and 3rd pregnancy too, and still nothing was done.
I now have permanent damage to my back, hips and pelvis and I’m registered disabled. I’ve also developed multiple chronic illnesses including Fibromyalgia, Arthritis, IBS, Postural Hypotension, Asthma and Chronic Migraines to name just a few. I’m not telling you this for pity, but there is a reason for it.
I started many different crafts when I was at home with our first baby, including card making, stamping, crocheting, sewing, paper craft, cooking and weaving, and loved creating hand made items, but after baby number 3, my condition was so bad that I had to give everything up. I hadn’t been able to drive for a long time, my body was too sore to sit at a table to work, and I developed an allergy to every type of wool that I bought. I could no longer stand up to cook either, and I felt like my life was over. I was housebound, and on the verge of bed bound.
I was in so much pain that my bed became my best friend. I couldn’t dress myself, I needed help to have a shower/bath, and had to have the house kitted out with home aids to try and help me manage with everyday tasks. This was not how I imagined my life would be at 27.
I was in a very deep black hole and couldn’t see a way out. I thought that my life was over, and didn’t want to imagine the rest of my life lying in bed in agony. I fell into a deep depression, I hated having to be so dependent on my family, and incapable of managing the simplest of tasks on my own. Being in excruciating pain all the time was awful, and there was nothing I could do to change it. I’m allergic to all pain medications so couldn’t take anything to ease the pain, and other medication I was offered caused some awful side effects.
After many months of wallowing in my own self pity, I decided that I had to pull myself together and find something that I could do. No one else was going to fix me, no one understood what I was going through, and it wasn’t their fault, but without going through something like this, it’s impossible to understand the utter torment that comes with it, so I had to do it myself. I had to drag myself out of the deep black hole and try and get some purpose back to my life.
I got my pad and my pencils out and started to draw. It was something that I could do in bed on my worst days, and curled up in the chair if I felt up to getting up. I could pick it up and put it down whenever I needed to.
Once I realised it was something I could focus on, I started to set myself goals, and challenges, and aims for the future. I started to show my friends online what I’d drawn and got an amazing response from them. It gave me the confidence to start using coloured pencils.
I was determined to improve my techniques, and succeed in my goal to create photorealistic drawings. I worked long and hard, knowing that if I put the effort in, I would get the results I wanted. I also knew that it was going to be a long process, there were days that I could only manage 10 minutes before I had to stop and sleep, and other days I could manage a couple of hours, but I didn’t give up.
As my work improved my friends started to ask for portraits of their pets. I was thrilled that people liked my work enough to want it in their houses. Slowly but surely more and more people came to me wanting work, and my work was getting noticed in more and more places.
In the last 18 months I’ve had my work published in several coloured pencil magazines, I’ve had an article published about taking my own photography for reference photos, and I have 2 exhibitions booked in galleries in the next 12 months. I’ve also brought out my own range of products.
I’m attending my first Craft Fair in August, which will be the first of many fairs and markets that I will be attending.
I still have bad days, days that I can’t face anything more than dragging myself out of bed and down the stairs, just to curl up on the chair and sleep in my pyjamas, and then there are days that I feel well enough to have a shower and get dressed, which is a huge deal for me. Mornings and evenings are hard for me as they are the most painful times of the day, but I manage the best that I can, and when I feel upto drawing I take full advantage of it, and try and create something beautiful.
I feel very lucky, because lots of opportunities are coming my way and I have a very bright future to look forward too, with lots of exciting plans in the pipeline too. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t become disabled, as I would still have been working full time and wouldn’t of had the time to put into my drawing the time that was needed to have been put in to get to the stage that I’m at now.
If I could give anyone that lives through disability or chronic illness one piece of advice, it’s never to give up on yourself or your abilities to achieve anything that you want to. You might have to take a different approach, or work in a different way, but it’s still achievable. You will go though hard times, and you might lose sight of the positives in your life, but they will still be there, and with hard work and perseverance, you can achieve anything that you set your mind to. Take the rough with the smooth, and live your life to the best of your abilities, whatever they are.
I’m Jane Elizabeth Higgins. I was Jane Elizabeth Chandler until last year when I Married the gorgeous Mr Higgins, who loves and supports me through sickness and health.
I am so happy to have found this beautiful community of Crafties. I can’t actually express in words the emotions I felt when I read the welcome message from Karen and realised how perfect this community is for me.
I was diagnosed with Ulcerative Colitis in 2002. This is an Inflammatory Bowel Disease which causes diarrhoea, bloody stools, weight loss, pain, fatigue, depression, anxiety and incontinence. After a few years and lots of medications, including immunosuppressant’s I became steroid dependant and in need of surgery in 2009. More than half a dozen surgeries later, a stoma, ongoing complications, losing my job, more weight loss and countless hospital stays, I had my final operation in 2012. I now have an ileoanal pouch. Since then I have developed extreme Fatigue, Fibromyalgia, Nerve Damage and Joint Pain.
While off sick recovering from Pouchitis (inflammation of my pouch) and Anxiety in 2014, I joined a local craft workshop. It was here that I started making jewellery. I loved it straight away. I have always loved practical activities and as a primary school teacher I enjoy teaching the practical subjects such as science and design technology. The jewellery making fulfilled a need in me to create; its very therapeutic. I began making more and more things and trying different techniques. My favourite is beading. It soon became clear that I would have to give up teaching altogether. Soon after that I started my own business. It allows me to work when I’m able and rest when I need to.
I make IBD awareness jewellery to raise money for Crohn’s and Colitis UK (CCUK), a national charity which has helped me a great deal on my journey. I also make awareness bracelets in aide of Children’s Liver Disease Foundation (CLDF), GoGold for childhood cancer (money raised goes to Clic Sargent) and Sickle Cell disease (Sicklekan), as I have people who are close to me who are affected by these conditions.
I also run jewellery making parties and workshops for children and adults. These are a great opportunity for me to practice my two loves of teaching and jewellery making.
I have opened my shop with three of my awareness bracelets. They are each only £15 and £5 from each purchase goes to the health charity associated with it. I make awareness jewellery for health causes close to my heart. I have a personal story to tell about each association and I will share these with you over the coming weeks.
Until then, have a look at and enjoy the beautiful bracelets. I will chat with you again soon.
I’m lucky to be a carer for two amazing people!!! My son and my Mum!
My son was diagnosed with Aspergers/ High functioning Autism, at age 7. We have had a tough old road, now he is 17, done his GCSE’s and is now at college! Safe to say I am one proud Mum!
In May 2015 I became carer for my Mum. She has chronic Arthritis both Rheumatoid and Osteo, which means she needs lots of help. She had to take early retirement and move in with me and my son.
I took up embroidery and cross stitch originally to do something creative.
Its helps take my mind off our crazy merry go round life of hospital appointments, meetings, therapy and general house stuff.
I suffer with Depression and PTSD, due to a previous abusive relationship. So stitching helps and keeps me sane, or not as the case may be 🙂
For a long time I had thought about running my own business, but just didn’t know what to do. One day Mum saw and advert for a embroidery machine, “you could do that!” she said. So, along came this huge machine which initially I was terrified of! (I had only done hand embroidery up to that point!!). Luckily my computer whizz and all things technical son came to the rescue!
I had had the machine for a month and just looked at it in awe! Half term was all that was needed, by the end of the week he had machine embroidery sussed, taught me and so my learning curve began!
Eventually after several months I braved it and in January of this year (2016) I jumped in. Mum and my boy love the things I make and look forward to seeing the new designs and products, Mum especially as she gets to keep the seconds!
So, here I am, self-employed and loving every minute!
HOW TO style HAIR with minimal energy and so we can save energy for the important stuff!
(I know hair loss is very common with Chronic Illness. In fact, I lost 2/3rd of my hair a few years back and had to cut it all off. Please do not be discouraged if you are experiencing this, I know I was, but it is very possible your hair will come back.)
I have never written a blog before and I am not all that good at writing about who I am or how I feel. Just lately I have felt that I should give it a go and reach out to people. Caring can be a lonely job. I get sick of people telling me it’s not a REAL job and that I should go to work and stop claiming tax payers money.
I care for my husband who was first diagnosed with Epilepsy 10 years ago. This is how it all started. He had to give up work because his fits got a lot worse. He was a hazard in the work place. It was worsened by the fact that he had an accident and broke his neck. He’s lucky to be alive. I love him so much that I am thankful he is still in the land of the living. His neck is crumbled and the gravel as we call it pushes on nerve endings which caused his fits to get worse.
While going through the system and trying to work out what was the cause, he was diagnosed with Schizophrenia. I have always taken his mood swings as a quirk and neither of us knew he had a mental disability. It opened our eyes to how much can be hidden under the surface.
Giving up work for him caused a great depression. He’s never been the same. With the system treating us the way it has it has caused anxiety and panic attacks so now talking to strangers and going to new places is a challenge for us.
Life can never be the same. So YES, I am just a carer but I don’t get time off. I don’t get holiday pay. I don’t get any support from anywhere and I am left to rely on my own decision making to what is best for us. I don’t have time to be sick. I am needed every minute of the day. I wish I could go to work and work nine to five. I would surly make more money and possibly have a more comfortable life.
I didn’t choose for this to happen. I’m not just sat here on my backside doing nothing all day like people seem to think I am. It’s hard work. Maybe not physically every day but mentally every second. Every time he has a seizure he could die. If you love someone just take a moment to think how that feels. He has at least two a day on a bad month. There is nothing I can do but sit by his side and pray he pulls through.
So no, I don’t have a title, a posh house or children. I gave up all my dreams to be by his side everyday. Love is the foundation of my life. My gift is the days I get to see him smile without pain.
I craft to keep my sanity. I love to create. I love to see people smile and I think LOVE is the most cherished gift we can share with one another. It’s FREE and it changes lives.
So next time someone says they are a carer, take a moment to realise they give up their lives for others happiness. Give them some supportive encouragement. I know we all sure could use it.
Thank you for taking the time to read this. Much love to you all. xx
I remember having a dream as a small child. I was with a circle of adults around a fire and there was something that they were not telling me. I awoke feeling cross and very frustrated and the memory of the dream lingered…
As a young, able-bodied adult, I left home and did a degree in Design Representation (modelmaking). I commuted into London to work in various workshops. I took up Live Roleplaying, Yoga, Tai Chi. Work stress made me change course, learning Reiki on the way. I gained a Diploma in Montessori Directress (preschool education), commuting up to four hours a day.
Marriage, motherhood and moving house followed. Pregnancy was wonderful but my daughter and I are lucky to be here and nobody could tell me exactly why my body went so wrong.
Summer, 2012: I’d brought littl’un to a friend’s birthday party. The garden was full of fun – crafts, facepainting, treats. Whilst my daughter was having a great time as a dinosaur, I grabbed some nibbles and went to chat with the other mums. However, I felt wrong. Dizzy, clumsy, finding it hard to get my words out or find them at all, I sat in the shade quietly promising myself I’d see my GP. This just added to a growing list of niggling little things they couldn’t find a cause for.
I’ll save the whole diagnosis story for another time, though, as what I’d really like to get across is just how disability crept up on me. It was the fatigue that got to me first. I’d had it for years without realising that it wasn’t normal to feel like this. At school, at Uni, it was just put down to growing and learning. My first jobs – commuting, working long hours, surely being this tired upon waking was simply a result of that?
As a new mum, again, exhaustion had an explanation. I’d joke about having ‘mumnesia’ along with the other new mums, but my forgetfulness didn’t go away as my child grew.
I’d walk my daughter to playgroup, to pre-school, down the same village road I still travel. She started school a bit further down the road and one day I noticed that I wasn’t walking straight. I started getting odd sensations or lack of feeling. By July 2014 I was using a walking stick to help me cope with involuntary movements, neuropathic pain and balance issues. by the end of the month I’d discovered how much clearer my head was when I borrowed a supermarket wheelchair. It also reduced the myoclonic jerks. By that September I was using a mobility scooter for most of the school run trips and by the following September I’d bought my Smartcrutches, having finally been diagnosed with EDS in August 2015 (confirmed by a geneticist Dec ’15).
I had to be patient, probing, persistent and proactive to help the medical professionals around me arrive at the complex answer to that first question ‘Why am I always a bit dizzy?’ and the cascade of other questions that followed. I’ve only just (in May 2016) been diagnosed with PoTS on top of the EDS etc.
Thankfully, the dizziness is manageable, the involuntary movements have all but gone (it made beadwork nigh impossible!), I’m receiving appropriate treatment, learning to pace well, brace appropriately and eat more healthily. I have to thank the online patient communities for a huge amount of support, information, understanding and genuine caring. You yourself might have spared a moment to write to me, hidden behind one of my aliases. Thankyou, whoever you may be, for your en-courage-ment. (I needed you to notice that word within a word there).
For the first 40 years of my life I had no idea that I’d been born with a predisposition to disabilty. I only had that vague, intuitive feeling since I was young that something was different about me. I’ve learned to love who I am (“…a very interesting person” I’ve been told more than once) and I embrace my life just as it is.
Yes, I have become disabled but through my journey of self discovery, I have also become empowered.
Spanish-style music was playing in the background. It was unusually hot for October, but I could feel a slight breeze on my cheek. The nerves in my limbs were twitching like they wanted to get up and run yet felt like they were being held down by cement. My eyes were closed, but I could see lights dancing and swirling like waves of fireworks in my head. I vaguely heard a man walk by and comment in my direction, “I guess you can have too much fun.”
This was me—sprawled out on a table in the wine garden at Disney’s California Adventure Park. It was the nearest place I could get to after exiting a ride with my kids and sensing I was going to collapse. It felt like I was in a dream. I had no perception of time or the fact that I had been non-responsive for over two hours.
The paramedics that huddled around me were prodding me and asking me questions, but they seemed so far away and I was just too tired to answer. Too tired to open my eyes. Too tired to move my leg that had fallen asleep some time ago. In the back of my head I could hear a frantic voice whispering, “Something is very wrong!” But at that moment I was just too tired to even care.
Little did I know that this incident was the beginning of an illness turned disability that would change my life.
Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS)
So what was this mystery illness? Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome, also known as POTS. As my doctor explained, upon standing my heart rate increases much more than is normal. While this is a defining characteristic of my condition, it is not just my heart rate that is altered. POTS is a dysautonomic disorder. It affects the autonomic nervous system, which controls our bodily functions that we don’t usually have to think about, like heart rate, circulation, blood pressure, breathing, digestion, temperature, hormone production, etc. POTS can be triggered suddenly by a trauma or viral infection, as it was in my case. (I’d had a sore throat for a week and been under a lot of stress from work as we embarked on our family vacation.)
While many of my symptoms are present all the time, they are amplified when I’m sitting up and even worse when standing. Because of poor circulation and low blood volume my brain suffers from not enough blood and oxygen. My symptoms include brain fog, dizziness, migraines, chest pain, nausea and other gastric issues, temperature control problems, and extreme fatigue and lethargy. I get overstimulated quickly– movement, light, and especially noise really affect me. Additionally, my body overproduces adrenaline, causing intense tremors and muscle spasms.
Overnight I went from being a relatively healthy, active person to someone who could barely get out of bed.
Chronic Illness Affects the Whole Family
I have always been a go-getter and an overachiever– from dancing 4-6 hours a day and attaining valedictorian in high school to an adulthood of teaching group fitness classes, owning and operating a small business, and being a wife and a mother of four. To lose my mobility and functionality was devastating.
This condition was not just life-altering for me, it affected my whole family. I could no longer take my kids out for the adventures we loved, like going to the children’s museum or hiking in the mountains. I couldn’t go to important events like music concerts, dance recitals, or preschool programs. And the day-to-day limitations were even harder to accept. I could no longer make dinner, help kids with homework, or get them ready for school or bed. I oftentimes could not even get myself out of bed without collapsing. (My husband has found me on the bathroom floor more times than I care to admit.)
I was battling to come to grips with my new reality. But I was not the only one. My kids were also struggling to comprehend why I couldn’t do what I used to do.
Our family has a tradition of taking turns sharing good news and bad news each night at dinner. The nights that I could make it to the dinner table, I noticed a trend in the news my kids shared. My four-year-old twins started repeating the same news night after night. “My good news is that I love mommy. My bad news is that I miss mommy.” Even my 10-year-old daughter would say, “My good news is that mom was able to come out for dinner. My bad news is that mom is still sick.”
I have vivid memories of a meltdown my daughter and I had one evening as she was preparing for her dance recital. She came into my room so I could do her hair, yet I couldn’t even sit up on the edge of my bed long enough to do it—let alone make it to the recital.
Over the holidays, one of my twins rushed into my room so excited for me to come see the Christmas tree he had helped decorate in the basement. After five minutes of him tugging on my arm begging me to come, and me trying to explain why I couldn’t simply get up and walk down the stairs, we both ended up in tears.
These are just a few of many examples.
Mommy Can’t Dance
As a mom, it is no fun to feel physically awful, but it is worse to know that your kids are suffering too. I hated that my illness was affecting my children. I needed a way to help them understand that my illness and inability to do things for them or with them in no way affected my love for them. Additionally, any chronic illness brings with it feelings of helplessness for the patient and the loved ones. I wanted my kids to find ways that they could feel helpful and loved. Thus, the book Mommy Can’t Dance was born.
While this book is near and dear to my heart, I recognize that I am not the only mom struggling with chronic illness. I hope this book can help other mothers and children that are similarly struggling.
The children’s book “Mommy Can’t Dance” is available at:
In an effort to further the advocacy and research on POTS, the illustrator and I are donating all proceeds of the book Mommy Can’t Dance to Dysautonomia International a 501(c)(3) non-profit founded by patients, caregivers, physicians and researchers dedicated to assisting people living with various forms of dysautonomia.
While I wish I could write a fairytale ending to my personal story, that is simply not the case. I have found a few medications that have helped, and I continue to pursue additional treatment options through trial and error. Like many others who suffer with chronic illness, I understand that this may be a lifelong condition. However, I refuse to give up or give in, and I hope to someday report that mommy can dance again.
Let me rephrase that. I grew up thinking my life was a musical. Call it the “theatre bug”, call me a “drama queen” or a great big ham – I lived for the world of the stage. For me, singing and acting were ways I could connect with the world around me. When I took a deep, grounded breath from my gut, I sang what my heart longed to express. I found comfort in the words of my favorite composers. I read scripts like they were novels. I would play with my playbills from various shows I had seen like they were my Barbie dolls. Through theatre, I had a place in this world. I could make believe by inserting myself into characters from every era, situation and mindset, while still expressing my own individuality.
I was the kid who got sent to the principal’s office because when the teacher left the room, I would jump on her desk and start tap-dancing. I was the girl who forced every unwilling classmate to join me in a Les Miserables medley, assigning them their designated parts to pass the 30-minute school bus ride.
Even all the way up to high school, I was the theatre-girl. It was my identity, my passion, my livelihood. I sacrificed my social life and gave up many opportunities to immerse myself in what I loved.
I’ve always been warned not to put all of my eggs in one basket, but theatre ran through my veins – it was all I thought about, lived and dreamed. I’d write songs in my assignment notebook as I waited for the school bell to ring, then hop on the train to the next open call I’d read about in Backstage. When I fought with my brothers, I could only debate with them if we could do in the spirit of a musical theatre duet. They weren’t so keen on that.
So what do you do when you’ve invested everything into your passion and you can’t follow it anymore? I’ve always thought about what would a world-concert pianist would do if he injured his hand, or a dancer breaking a leg…
…but sprains heal and wounds can eventually mend. Dire circumstances felt much more long lasting; when at 18 I awoke from a coma. Although the medical staff—that suddenly became everyday faces—was more concerned about keeping my organs and me alive, I was still trying to grapple with one frightening new concern:
Would I ever be able to sing and dance on stage again?
With a ventilator and a tracheotomy, I couldn’t even talk. From months of bed-rest, the first time I was able to stand up, I was alarmed at how they trembled, as if my legs were Jell-O. I lost the energy to even think about what I loved, and being unable to eat or drink in these new medical circumstances turned my once-steady focus to mush and irritability.
I remember asking every person I could find in the hospital if they thought I would ever be able to sing and dance again. I was faced with many apologetic “I don’t knows”, sighs, shrugs, and awkward changing of the topic. However, I remember one occupational therapist gave me words that to her, felt like words of encouragement. She looked at me compassionately, and said, “You never know – the human body is amazing. I had one patient who showed no signs of hope, and a year later, when he was discharged, he only needed a wheelchair!”
(These were not exactly the words of encouragement I was looking for.)
With time, patience, and dogged determination, I was eventually discharged from the hospital. What I’m glossing over are the multitudes of surgeries, setbacks and frustrations, because what was the most important was my passion – I never forgot how I missed the stage. Even not being able to talk or stand up on my own, I still visualized me singing and dancing. Without theatre, I felt disconnected, purposeless, a has-been. I missed the vibrant girl I remembered being the first to sign up for auditions, now condemned to a realm of medical isolation.
I had always had a dream of combining song and dialogue in a show of my own design. I love the idea of storytelling through theatre, but as a teen, I didn’t really have much of a story to tell. But sometimes, a setback is an opportunity in disguise. Suddenly, I had a tale of hurdles, triumph, and heart.
Eight years after my coma, I was finally headed towards a life of medical stability. I learned through experience that things can heal with time, and that’s not always the prettiest or easiest way. It was an extremely difficult journey, yet when I started to put together a musical of my life, things felt like they had happened for a reason. Now I had a story to tell, a message to share.
My one-woman musical autobiography, Gutless & Grateful, started out as stapled pages of my journal – a few pages from the thousands of journal entries I had completed when unable to eat or drink for years. I selected 16 songs—some of which I had written – that had always resonated with my journey and me, and loosely strung them together to sing for my own therapy. I’d perform Gutless & Grateful for my parents, my dogs, but mostly for myself. Through the songs, I could allow myself a safe place to feel the charged emotions I was still trying to process from years of medical trauma.
I called it my “world in a binder”. My parents called it “Amy’s little play.” It was no surprise when I had many looks of concern and gentle warnings when I decided to book a theatre in New York for my world premiere!
I performed Gutless & Grateful for the first time in NYC in October 2012. It was a frightening, bold, vulnerable, and breathtaking experience. In it, I told everything – the pain, the medical, the joy, the infuriating – with music, drama, and humor, most importantly. I had played “roles” before, but for the first time, I was honestly revealing my own medical and emotional struggles for hundreds of strangers every night. It was a risk to lay my soul bare, but the reward was in how my own vulnerability caused others to become vulnerable and moved by my own struggles.
Since then, I’ve been performing it in theatres, hospitals, and groups in need of any kind of inspiration and encouragement. When I realized how combining powerful firsthand experience could transform lives, I developed my little-show-that-could into a mental health advocacy and sexual assault prevention program for students. Nearly losing my life at 18 years old, I’m now reaching out to students at that same pivotal point in their own lives.
Medically, my life is far from perfect, but now when a surgery goes wrong, I use it as more material for my show – if we cant learn to laugh from hardship, we can’t learn anything. And for me, when I learn, I feel alive – that just as trees grow, change and evolve with every season, I can too.
Through Gutless & Grateful, I’m sharing my story and helping others find the gifts and the gratitude in the hardships. And in healing other people, I heal my own self a bit more every day. I’m not there yet, but just like my show – I’m on the road.
As a performer, all I want to do is give back to the world. Being up on stage and singing is one part of the joy, but what brings the process full circle is knowing that somewhere in the audience, I am affecting someone and making them think in a different way. That is the power of theatre – stirring you to see things differently. Doing what I love, my passion once again can freely flow through my veins, and I’m a person now, not just a patient or a medical miracle. Passion may not heal 27 surgeries, but passion has healed my heart. My passion has re-anchored me in who I am. And for that, I am Gutlessly Grateful.
Amy Oestreicher
Speaker, Artist, Author, Performer, Playwright, Actress, Survivor, Writer for Huffington Post
I’ve always loved finding about about myself. I was a shy child with hardly any dress sense (though very sensitive to irritating clothes). I matured late, have always been something of a tomboy and absolutely love stories, be it in books, in films or making them up with friends.
I had a career as a professional modelmaker and another in preschool education as a Montessori Directress. Unfortunately, despite however much I loved what I did, I could never seem to physically do it for long. There was an invisible barrier that I kept hitting time and again.
I look back and wonder how I managed to do what I did? With the companionship of a loving partner that I’ve known since our college days, a wonderful family and finding my creative outlet in Live Roleplaying for twenty years. I learned Reiki to cope with stress and became a Reiki Teacher.
A few years ago though, a cascade of symptoms began. Dizziness, fatigue, clumsiness, odd sensations…the list went on. It took three years to reach the root of all my problems – even ones from my childhood and young adult life finally got explained.
At first, I thought it was MS. It looked ever so much like it but the MRI said ‘within normal limits’ and the Neurologist said ‘Functional Neurological Disorder’. What’s that? In a nutshell, symptoms without a clearly discernable cause. Go to FNDHope to learn more.
After that, it was Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, for which I did a very good OT led therapy course and made a group of friends. We still meet up when we can. Generalised Anxiety Disorder along with historical (i.e. in childhood) Social Anxiety Disorder was diagnosed next.
Eventually, a trip to orthotics to get some new insoles that I’d been prescribed after the weight of pregnancy left my feet a funny shape, led to me being told – for the first time in my life – that I was hypermobile. Sure, Yoga and Tai Chi teachers had remarked on my flexibility and I just took it as a compliment, a positive trait. I had no idea…
The slew of symptoms kept increasing, my mobility kept decreasing, my cognitive abilities kept glitching and I had to know why. So, I chatted on forums. I researched. I looked for the right words to craft the best questions to present to my GP. I printed out information and asked his opinion. My ferreting of information and determination to know what my body was up to finally led me, at the age of 41, to get a confirmed diagnosis of EDS (Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome). That in turn led to a realisation that I just might be autistic (my doc said “Oh gosh, yes!” when I asked if I might have Asperger’s). I’m still waiting on that one.
So, in the past eight years I have survived a perilous labour (though sadly, my womb did not), become a proud mum, started two online shops, closed a Reiki Practice, gained clarity about my orientation (still happily with my college heartthrob though) and transitioned from able-bodied to disabled. I now do the school-run on two Smartcrutches with braces or my mobility scooter.
This is the real me. I love making jewellery but rarely wear it. I only dress up to do LRP or Steampunk and usually have a less mature hairdo than my now 7 year old. I love making friends but need plenty of solitude. I’m happy to offer my experience to others in the hope that they might find it helpful. Above all and quite aptly, I’m a Conscious Craftie. ♡
Ever since I was little, I’ve wanted to do two things: be a writer, and work with animals. At one point I wanted to be a vet (even though I don’t particularly like the sight of blood), then I wanted to go into animal conservation. I’ve always loved the idea of working at a zoo. I had these big dreams of all the work with animals that I’d do when I was older. And in my spare time, I’d fulfil my love for writing, creating imaginary worlds where anything was possible.
But, when I was a teenager, I became really ill.
The strange symptoms first started around the age of seventeen, and all my doctors were baffled. Many just wrote me off as “an anxious female”, saying it was really common for teenage girls to faint for no reason. But, when I was nineteen, and after many tests and many doctors, I found out that I had some pretty rare conditions: I’d been born with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (a genetic disorder where the body produces faulty collagen) and, because of this, I also had several forms of dysautonomia (autonomic system dysfunction that affects almost every part of the body), including Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome, meaning my autonomic system doesn’t work properly every time I’m upright—sitting, standing and walking.
These diagnoses explained a lot of the symptoms I’d been dealing with for the last few years. But knowing that I had these chronic conditions—EDS is genetic; it’s a DNA error—and that a lack of research meant none of them yet had a cure made me worried. I suddenly saw everything in terms of what I couldn’t do. And it was around the age of nineteen that I really understood what this meant, and the impact it would have on my life. With my conditions—the frequency of my fainting, and how my autonomic system no longer works when I’m in an upright position—unsurprisingly, I’m not allowed to drive. It would just be too risky. I don’t always get warning before I faint (and often my faints look like fits), and I get problems with my vision thanks to a lack of oxygen to my brain when I’m upright (sitting, standing, and walking).
But these illnesses also limit the amount of physical work I can do. Every time I’m upright my autonomic system malfunctions, and sometimes, I can barely stand up without getting a heart rate that’s in the 200s even when I’m doing nothing but standing (yeah, my autonomic system really doesn’t work thanks to POTS). I also faint frequently—which can do a lot of damage in itself, if I faint when I’m standing up—and I’m constantly dizzy; even moving my head from side-to-side can trigger an episode of autonomic dysfunction (during which I literally cannot do anything but lie still and wait for it to pass). And that’s not to mention how fragile my joints and muscles are due to the error in my DNA (Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome). I’ve dislocated major joints just walking—which sounds ridiculous given that I used to compete at athletics and cross-country running. But apparently it’s not unusual for those with EDS to be less affected by it when they’re younger, so much so that they don’t realise they have the gene until they get older and start experiencing the symptoms.
Pretty soon after my diagnoses, at the age of nineteen, I realised I most likely wouldn’t be able to work with animals as a career. Not only could I not drive myself to such a place of work, but also I’d probably end up collapsing or fainting after being upright for a little while, and I’d be too nauseated, due to autonomic dysfunction, to do anything. Just a short walk can leave me exhausted, thanks to this condition. And besides, my joints would be dislocating and subluxing the moment I tried to carry anything.
This is where my writing really came in.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I’ve always loved writing. It’s not the case that I got ill and then I started writing. No. I was writing seriously from the age of nine or ten; writing has always been one of my dreams. I had my first short story published at the age of sixteen, and when I was seventeen I completed my first full-length manuscript of 137,000 words. Writing is just part of me. It’s who I am and I have to write. It keeps me sane!
But, realising that I wouldn’t be able to work with animals, and that a lot of jobs would be nearly impossible for me to do in my current state of health, really made me focus on writing. It made me determined to be a successful full-time writer, because writing was one thing that my illnesses hadn’t stopped me from doing.
Even though I’m unwell and unable to move much due to my faulty autonomic system, I can still write. And I can fit my writing around the crazy number of hospital appointments I seem to have most weeks.
I’d always been a voracious reader, but now I read as much as I could get my hands on, and I wrote in every spare minute I had. It was escapism from my illness partly; when I wrote I wasn’t just this sick girl, I was a writer creating amazing worlds and I was living through my characters. But it was also something more. Writing was part of me. I had to do it.
I sent more and more short stories out until I had over fifteen accepted for publication, and then I began concentrating solely on novels. I wrote and then rewrote what I had, countless times. I set myself the goal of writing 2,000 words a day and I soon settled into a routine where I’d try and meet that word count. Some days I managed it. Other days (particularly if I’d had a bad episode, or a hospital appointment) I didn’t.
But I kept writing, determined to write a book that a publisher wanted. With every novel manuscript I wrote, I could see my writing getting stronger. And it was my fourth full-length manuscript that really worked—and four publishers made offers on it.
Aged nineteen, I signed my first book deal.
A year later, my debut novel, Untamed, a dystopian story about addiction, loyalty, and survival released from Prizm Books, the YA imprint of Torquere Press, in both paperback and ebook formats.
By this time, my illnesses were getting worse, and I was struggling to attend even a couple of hours a week at university. I was unwell all the time, and in a near-constant state of presyncope that could (and regularly did) develop into full-on fainting at any moment, as my consultants had yet to find any medications that helped manage my symptoms. I really began relying on my writing. And, it was during my third year at university, after I’d written a new manuscript and signed my second book deal, that I fully realised I wasn’t just a chronically ill person, I was an author as well. Sure, I’d realised I was technically an author during my second year at university, when my debut novel released, but a part of me hadn’t actually believed it then.
But now I realised what I’d done: I’d achieved one of my dreams—arguably my biggest dream—despite being chronically ill. I’d proven to myself that just because I was ill, it didn’t mean I couldn’t achieve anything. I could still be the writer I’d always dreamed of being.
Fast forward to the present day, and I’m 21, and my second novel, Fragmented, is set to release on 7th September 2016. Even though my health is still the same, and my consultants haven’t yet been able to find a way to successfully manage the daily symptoms of my illnesses, I’m currently working on the first drafts of two new manuscripts, as well as editing a third. And last month, I also managed to finish my degree—at the same time as all my friends. I’m pretty sure this was because I had writing to fall back on during those agonising weeks when I thought I’d never manage all the university work. Writing comforted me. And I’m so grateful that writing is one thing I still can do, when there are many things I’ve had to give up (horse riding, athletics, gymnastics, cross country, etc.).
This is why I won’t let my chronic illnesses stop me from being a writer—from being who I am. Because writing gives me an identity, it gives me something to hold onto. I may be chronically ill, but I’m also a writer.
And I have to keep writing.
About Madeline Dyer…
Madeline Dyer lives in the southwest of England, and has a strong love for anything dystopian, ghostly, or paranormal. Her debut novel, Untamed (Prizm Books, May 2015), examines a world in which anyone who has negative emotions is hunted down, and a culture where addiction is encouraged. Madeline’s second novel, Fragmented, is set to release on 7th September 2016, from Prizm Books.
For more information, please check out her website. Follow Madeline on Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest and like her Facebook page to receive the latest information about Madeline’s writing.
As a young man I trained for 5 years as a Ladies and Gents hairstylist in Leicester. My hobbies were fishing and Martial arts, i studied the Chinese martial art of Gung Fu and attained a black belt 3rd dan. After a few years I found myself working in Germany which I loved and my wife and children all joined me for a few years. It was on one of the journey’s to Germany that I first became aware of my neck problem, suffering terrific muscle spasms in my neck and shoulders, this continued for many years and the pain levels grew, on our return to England I had many hospital appointments, a CT scan and the diagnosis was “hot spots and irregularities in the C spine” (they gave really detailed diagnosis in the 70’s!). My problem was later diagnosed as Spondylosis or Spondylitis i can’t recall which! I was given Tramadol an opiate based pain killer and other pain relief which helped but did not take away all of the pain.
As the years went by the pain became stronger and ever present as it still is today, I recall myself sitting and crying in pain with my wife’s arms around me on many an evening after I finished work. By this time I had started two new companies away from hairdressing, one a Private Detective Agency the other a Security Company and was working 14/16 hours a day, fortunately I must have a strong constitution as I was always able to go to work and work through or in spite of the pain.
I spent several thousands of pounds over the years looking for alternative pain relief, having tried all the obvious, I went for energy healing and did find some relief and at about this time I also found a magic masseuse called Suzanne who like many are, was not afraid to go in deep, she was able to break up the tightly knotted muscles in my neck and shoulder after about a year of weekly visits, this allowed me to actually turn my neck a little from side to side after many years of not being able to, over the next few years my pain slowly went down a rung or two thanks to the healing and the marvellous masseuse I had found.
Having had “some relief” from pain for the first time in many many years I though that I could perhaps also help others that suffered with chronic pain and trained in Tera Mai Reiki Seichem becoming a Tera Mai Reiki Seichem Master and also as a Reconnective healing practitioner, through which I was over the years, able to give relief to many other chronic pain sufferers (but not myself!) mainly using Reconnective Healing energies which seemed more effective than Reiki.
In my retirement and still in pain 24/7 (and still something of a workaholic!) I caught up with an old school friend on friends reunited, she told me that she had MS of which I knew nothing, some years after this her husband passed away and some months later I was reasonably close to North Wales and arranged to meet with my friend from my school days for a meal, we got on well and I began to learn a little about MS. I started to visit her to help out on occasional weekends and at times when she had multiple medical appointments and seeing what she went through to be able to carry out the simplest little task really had me in awe of her single minded determination, the help visits became more regular and now I am her main carer, staying for perhaps a couple of weeks, enabling her to do the things she enjoys and get regular exercise sessions at the gym, then having a few days break before beginning again.
My friend actually classes herself as lucky, because although she has MS she suffers no pain, lots of other difficulties but no pain for which she is very grateful (but how anyone with MS can consider themselves lucky I don’t know) she has lost the use of her left arm and left leg, and struggles to manage even the simplest task, she has been a yoga teacher for over 30 years and still teaches from her wheel chair having adapted many exercises for chair bound people, she has taken over 700 yoga classes at the Neuro Therapy Centre near Chester and does everything she can to enable her to live an ordinary life. My heart often goes out to her as I see her struggle with a task, but I have now learnt the things that I must let her do herself despite how long it takes her or how difficult it is for her, it’s hard to watch sometimes knowing that I can do it for her, but she needs to do it herself, that was the most difficult thing for me to learn as a carer.
I find it very rewarding that I am now able to make life an awful lot easier for her, and enable her to live a normal (ish) life. I have free run of the kitchen which is great! I’m even allowed to do the washing up, although she says she occasionally has to re wash items!! It’s a man thing how we just leave an item with a stain or tiny bit of food on that a woman’s radar spots from 100 yards and we can’t see from six inches!
Anyway I have missed a bit out as before re meeting with my friend after many years, my masseuse told me on several occasions to ask my Doctor to test me for Fibromyalgia, when I finally got round to it I was given a positive diagnosis which explains all of the additional pain I have been getting over the last few years and the horrible tiredness and lack of energy, waking up feeling like a soggy sack, trying to remember what was a dream that you thought you had. It’s known as ‘Fibro Fog’ which is really weird sometimes, so caring for my friend although very difficult at times (as she really does not understand what pain is and why I can be so down and useless one day and ok another!) but it keeps me busy and I get an awful lot of satisfaction from being able to make her life easier, despite having lost the use of her left leg and arm she is always happy, cheerful and smiling. I find it amazing the way she copes with her disability and (most days) really enjoy being there for her.
Hi my name is Roz, and I’m a 32 year old married mother of 3 girls, and also a coloured pencil artist.
I’ve always had a love of arts and crafts. From a young age I would doodle and draw, paint, make things and generally make a mess. As I got older I decided that I wanted to study art, and took an extra GCSE in art, so I studied both 3D and 2D art. I loved the variety of materials that I was able to use, from pencils to paints, and clay to fabric. I got the grades that I needed to study art at A Level and that was when my love of drawing really started. I decided to concentrate on graphite, and that was what I have worked in until recently. I would spend a couple of months drawing from magazines, or photos of animals, improving my techniques as I went along, and then put it all away when life got in the way. When I had a bit of spare time, I would get it out again and improve my techniques a bit more, but never worked on it consistently over the years.
I was also quite active when I was younger and would walk for miles every day, swim, bike ride and generally keep quite fit and healthy. But that all changed when I became pregnant with my eldest daughter.
From early on in the pregnancy I knew that something wasn’t quite right. I knew that I would get aches and pains, but the pain I was getting was a lot worse than I expected, and it continued to get worse from week to week. I was having trouble walking and had unbelievable pain in my pelvis and hips. I mentioned it to my consultant, who told me that it was normal stretching pain and I was making a big deal out of nothing. I was refused physio and told to get on with it, so I went to see a physio privately, who diagnosed me with SPD (Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction, or PGP as its now called).
It continued to get worse throughout the rest of the pregnancy, and it caused complications for the birth (which I don’t need to get into) I also dislocated my coccyx (which is still dislocated 12 years later).
The same thing happened during the second pregnancy, but it was a lot worse and came on a lot quicker. Unfortunately I had the same consultant again, who told me that same thing ‘Its just stretching pain, stop fussing’ only this time it was so bad I couldn’t walk, had to be helped to do everything by my husband and was in such an awful state that I spent a lot of time crying and wishing it was over. This time my physio gave me the news that I had had a Spontaneous Symphisiotomy (where the pelvis basically splits in two) I was given crutches and a support belt and told to rest. I was referred by my physio to a women’s health physio at the hospital who specialised in pelvic problems in pregnant women. She couldn’t believe the state I was in. Again it made for a difficult and painful delivery.
Unfortunately whilst my pelvis was in two parts it twisted in opposite directions, and when it did fuse back together my hips were out of line, it effected my spine, my coccyx and my Sacroilliac and Symphysis Pubis joints.
The third time was better. I was under a different consultant, a woman this time, who had read my notes, knew the condition and got the ball rolling to get me all the help that I needed. I was given physio all the way through, was put on bed rest, was given a support support belt and the physio was there during the delivery to make sure that my pelvis wasn’t flexed any more that was safe to do so.
I was also referred to an orthopedic consultant who I am still under today. I have been diagnosed with Diastasis of the Symphysis Pubis, Scaroiliitis, Dislocated Coccyx, a Prolapsed Disc in my lower spine, my hips are 2″ out of line and I have severe and constant Sciatica. I am under a gastroenterologist who has diagnosed me with IBS too, and have intolerance to wheat, lactose, soya and caffeine.
I am in constant pain to this day with my pelvis and lower back, I have to use crutches most of the time, and have a wheelchair. I have also had to have the house kitted out with home aids to help make my life easier. I am allergic to painkillers so can’t take anything for relief. It gets really hard to cope with it all some days and I do get very down, but I have fight for my girls. I was trying to take my mind off my pain by card making, sewing, and crocheting, but have had to stop all of those due to the pain, lack of mobility and energy and my more recent diagnosis of Fibromyalgia and Raynaud’sDisease.
I noticed a couple of years ago that I was feeling pain more widely through my body, I was also feeling exhausted all the time, couldn’t concentrate on anything for any amount of time, and generally felt unwell. I was also extremely susceptible to the cold too, and got blisters on my hands and feet.
It got to the stage that I couldn’t do any of the crafts that I loved to do. I had hit rock bottom and couldn’t see a way out. I had nothing in my life other than extreme pain. I had to stop driving, which I loved, stop all of my crafts, I couldn’t go out, couldn’t manage around the house by myself, and had to rely on my husband for just about everything. Even my girls had become carers for me, fetching and carrying things for me as I struggled around the house on my crutches. I couldn’t do anything with them as the pain was so severe even the smallest movement brought tears to my eyes. I was on the brink of a breakdown and couldn’t see a way of getting out of it. I knew I had to do something, but didn’t know what I could do when I had so little going in my life.
I went to my doctor and explained how I was feeling, and he immediately diagnosed me with Fibromyalgia and Raynaud’s Disease. He told me that it had been caused by the trauma that I had been through with my pelvic problems and referred me to a Rheumatologist. My Rheumatologist is great. As soon as he saw me during my initial appointment he officially diagnosed me and we started on a medication plan. Its taken a lot of work and a lot of tweaking my medications to find some that I’m not allergic too, but I’m now on two different medications that do seem to be helping my symptoms. I’m also getting regular steroid injections which help too.
Don’t get me wrong. I am still in a lot of pain on a daily basis, and there are still days that I cant get out of bed, but they don’t come as often now.
I’ve also started up my love of drawing again. I decided that seeing as there are so many things that I can’t do, I need to find something I can do, and I have all the materials that I need right here in the house to start drawing again. I have also branched out into coloured pencil work in the last 11 months, and am having a fantastic time using them. I do have bad days when I don’t feel up to drawing, but it takes my mind off how I’m feeling and I brightens my spirit when I do feel up to it. I have had to adapt how I sit to draw, and have to have a lot of breaks, as sitting in one position causes a lot of pain, but I work in stages, and don’t mind if a drawing takes me weeks to complete.
If it hadn’t of been for the support that I have received from my amazing husband and children over the last 12 years I don’t know how I would have coped. They have been there, and continue to be there for me, day in and day out and I am so grateful for that.
I will have to deal with my conditions for the rest of my life and my pelvis and hip problems will get worse in years to come, but for now I am enjoying being able to draw again, and getting a bit of my life back.
When I was 25 I became ill, but they didn’t know what was wrong as all my tests came back clear. Eventually they took me to theatre to open me up to see what was going on. My colon ruptured on the table and I woke up with an Ileostomy, it was later discovered that I had Crohn’s Disease. It was hard to come to terms with having to wear a bag for the rest of my life. Over the next 13 years I was in and out of hospital for various procedures and operations.
In 2008 I was taken in so they could remove adhesions as they were pulling the stoma back inside me. The operation went well and I was recovering, until 10 days later, when I was in an awful lot of pain, it turned out my bowel had strangulated itself, so back to theatre where they removed even more of my bowel. I then contracted MRSA, septicaemia and internal bleeding. Back to HDU, then transferred to another hospital, my mother was told for a second time that they didn’t think I’d make it through the night. I did but I was in so much pain, it was put down to going through the operation, but it carried on for months and to this day I am still in constant pain, which has got worse and worse.
I’ve been diagnosed with Abdominal Cutaneous Nerve Entrapment Syndrome. I am on a very high doses of pain medications, I have had a couple of Nerve Blocks which have given me short periods of pain free but when they wear off the pain comes back. I have been told that they don’t want to operate on me because of what happened last time. So this is me for the rest of my life, in constant pain, I haven’t worked since 2008 and it is doubtful that I will ever again. That is why my crafting is so very important to me.
I have knitted since I was about 5 years old, mostly for my sisters children or for charity. A neighbour asked me to knit a hat for her son and she was so pleased with it she told me I should be selling them. It took a lot of persuasion but Knits by Karen was born, I sold by word of mouth. I managed to get someone to teach me crochet as I’d always wanted to learn and things really took off. I did a few Craft Fayres and I started getting lots of orders. To me knitting and crocheting is keeping my brain active, I’m also speaking to people, something I had almost stopped doing when I became ill. I’m not able to do it all the time, but I find if I can concentrate on making a hat or cowl, it gives me something else to think about other than my pain. I also got a Shih Tzi puppy 4 years ago and he has also helped me immensely. If I didn’t have my knitting and crochet I really don’t know what my life would be like, a lot worse than it is at the moment, that’s for sure!
23 years ago, I was an at-home mum with a fab toddler, Cameron, so I thought I’d have another baby. Half way through the pregnancy, I was admitted to hospital with some very odd symptoms. I packed knitting, crochet and cross stitch immediately.
A difficult 8 weeks later, when Roseanne was born, I was handed an A4 piece of paper, both sides were covered with a list of her problems.
Rose was then in hospital for nearly a year battling through no swallow reflex, heart failure, meningitis, a stroke etc etc .
During this time, with a hubby working away, toddler Cam and I went to bed around 7.
I would then wake about midnight. What to do?
So I started crafting-in-bulk! I’d always crafted, but during this time, as the sun rose, I would be found standing still in pjs, surrounded by cards, embroideries, paintings.
I trialled selling some, and reinvested any money into more envelopes and bags.
Once Rose came home, it was quite difficult to go out as she was tube fed 8 times a day, and often on oxygen and needing suction. So every nap I sewed, painted or glued.
Our house had a horrid damp cellar, but we tanked it and added heating and set up a nurse call system for Rose and here grew and grew my crafting haven.
As the years went on, many, many more hospital stays led to more manic crafting, both at home and often on the hospital wards too. It kept me sane (debatable). We even chose to have another baby, and Mackenzie was added to the bedlam of the Weir household.
About 10 years on, I was just starting to imagine going back to my work as a primary school teacher. Rose was still tube-fed, but overnight, and her medical emergencies were lessening. I was finally coping.
We were driving back from a cinema matinee. The car skidded on spilt diesel as we were going up a motorway slip road. The safety barrier flipped us and we rolled down the embankment. We landed on a path upside down, blowing out all the windows and crushing the car’s structure. The car then carried on sliding, and rolled into a canal .
Cameron dived 3 times and rescued Rose and Mac. Finally got my legs free and helped.
Unfortunately my hubby had been under the water too long and had started to drown.
He was left with brain damage.
Over the next 10 years he battled back, and can now walk and talk, and recently has actually begun driving again. It was an extremely difficult time, but again pj moonlight crafting, waiting room crafting and my now precious dungeon/cellar helped me through.
I had a kiln fitted and when life gets really hard, I go down, smash up glass, and then melt it back together.
About 3 years ago, as hubby improved, Rose also began to come on in leaps and bounds. At 17 she began to be totally orally fed, and at 19, even came out of nappies.
I announced out loud on a walk with the dogs, “This is going to be MY year”.
Yeah…
I found the lump 3 weeks later.
So 2 ops and waiting rooms and radiation and severe reactions to radiation.
By gum, I smashed up a lot of glass during that time!
I also started to take another passion, weaving, to a higher level, treating myself to bigger and better looms. Even took one into isolation for during my glowing therapy!
So now….Shhhhh….don’t tell the gods, but I’m having a ball!
My health and their health permitting, I work with glass in the morning, and fibre in the afternoon.
I spend my evenings combining the 2 into kits.
I’m teaching from home and do talks to guilds and crafty groups.
My crafts were only ever meant to cover their costs, so I reinvest any income into more luscious materials or gadgets.
Hi! I’m Hannah Reimers. I’m a 24-year-old geek who loves Disney World, penguins, my cat Buttercup and my two pet guinea pigs. I also happen to be a five-year Kidney Transplant Survivor and have recently been diagnosed with several other chronic illnesses, including POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome) and Dysautonomia. As little kids, my brother and I created an entire imaginary world full of pretend friends. Eventually, I became a teenager, and our tales of talking cats and underground lands were literally pushed underneath my bed. When I was fifteen, I was diagnosed with a debilitating kidney disease called FSGS. Struggling with harsh treatments and an uncertain future, I pulled out the dusty stack of papers that described the pretend friends of my preteen years. As I fought for my life, I began reading the imaginary stories I had written as a healthy child. Before long, I started writing again, using my imagination as an escape from the daily monotony of needles, doctor’s appointments, and chemo-like medicine.
In June 2010, only one month after graduating high school, I received a kidney from my amazing cousin. Almost immediately thereafter, I began writing a fictionalized version of my real-life journey. It was incredibly boring, and I felt there was a huge piece missing. In March 2012, I finally came to my senses and realized I couldn’t tell the true story of my life without including the completely fictional stories of The Pretend Friend Association. The ‘PFA’: Part One- Story was published on December 21, 2012. Since then, I’ve published two or three each year. As of March 2016, the first seven books are complete and available for download internationally on Amazon. By December 2017, the series will be complete with twelve books.
A kidney transplant is a wonderful treatment, but it is not a cure; therefore, I will continue to fight FSGS for the rest of my life, even while I’m in remission. I recently discovered that I have been fighting several other chronic illnesses since my diagnosis with FSGS, including POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome), Dysautonomia, and several long-term anti-rejection medication side effects. However, I am incredibly blessed to be an author!
Here is a synopsis of the series:
“There are so many fears that come with being a chronically ill teenager. My most irrational fear was that if I died, my characters would die, too.”
As children, siblings Todd and Anna Grace Shramere created an imaginary world. Guided by nine “Rules of Imagination”, Anna Grace wrote hundreds of stories about a fantastic realm, filled with imaginary friends, secret superheroes, talking stuffed animals, flying cars, and parallel universes.
Several years later, Anna Grace is thrust into the frightening world of hospitals and infusions when she is diagnosed with a potentially life-threatening kidney disease. The sixteen-year-old copes by immersing herself in the fictional stories she wrote as a child. As her health deteriorates, Anna Grace darkens her stories by giving her disease to one of the youngest imaginary characters as well as adding villains and criminals to the once-safe imaginary city. As Anna Grace fights for her life, the fate of the inhabitants of the Underground City hangs in the balance.
Hi, I’m Chloë and I am 18 years old.
Here’s my story..
At the age of 16, I started with agonising pain in my ear which completely stopped me in my tracks. I visited the doctors constantly to try and find the cause of my pain but they had no answers to give. Months and months past and several more doctors appointments were made but no one seemed to understand the pain I was in and because they didn’t understand, they had no idea what was wrong. At first they wanted to treat me for basic things like ear infections etc but I knew 100% that it wasn’t anything like that. The pain was unbelievable, sharp electric shocks that shot through my face and ear leaving me in utter agony. I used to tell the doctors that it felt like “the pain was in my brain.” Luckily, I have a very supportive family so they pushed and pushed at the doctors to get me referred because I couldn’t live this way.. especially with no answers.
I was referred to ENT who did hearing tests, pressure tests and other basic tests of my inner ear, middle ear etc but nothing was found. Since they didn’t find any problem, they referred me to maxioral facial who did X-rays and scans but once again, no problem showed. After this, I was sort of pushed away by the doctors because nothing was showing and in their eyes, they had tried all they could. A year and more went by and the pain calmed down. I didn’t forget about it but I put it behind me till I had finished college and got the grades I worked hard for. A couple of months after college the pain was back with a vegencance. This time the pain was 100 times worse. Like before, the pain started with electric shock like pain, suddenly starting in my ear but this time it didn’t last for seconds, it lasted for hours, even days. On the 7th of September I handed my sick note in at work as the pain stopped me being able to go. My family couldn’t stand watching me in pain and having no answers as to what was wrong, all we did was panic. After more maxioral facical visits, they decided they wanted to send me to a Neurologist. Months and months went by were no appointment came through so my family decided to pay so we could go private and get seen as quick as possible.
My Illness is Real!
An appointment came through and it was the day to see the Neurologist. The neurologist diagnosed me with Glossopharyngeal Neuralgia, wow, there was finally an answer! Glossophraygneal Neuralgia is a rare condition where I have damaged nerves in my brain stem. There can be numerous reasons for this but one of them is that blood vessels in your brain press on the nerves and eventually cause damage. The nerve that is damaged is the one that controls your swallowing and pain can be felt in your tongue, throat, ear and other parts of your face. The pain I feel is mostly in my ear but since being diagnosed, I have felt pain in other places. I have since been put on numerous medications, Carbomazapine and Gabapentin but the side effects have been awful. I’m waiting for an appointment to see the Neurosurgeon for the second time as if the medication doesn’t help the pain.. the last resort is major brain surgery. The pain I feel has since stopped me from going to work as it comes and goes and it so unpredictable. It can be set off by daily things such as eating, brushing my teeth, talking and even cold air on my face. The pain is unbearable at times and can’t be helped by medication so I often take strong Cocodamol to knock me out to sleep when it starts. The pain in my ear is electrifying and burning to the point where I can’t move or talk cause little movement knocks me to the ground. Throat and tongue pain feels like I am swallowing razor blades and sometimes it’s impossible to even swallow my own saliva and I beg for a feeding tube. I’m nearly 19 now and learning my own ways to cope with the pain. I’m still off work as they have kept my position open for me but I am hoping and praying a miracle comes my way very soon! Until that miracle comes my way, I have unconditional support from my family and my boyfriend who keep me going day after day!
Happiness Found In Crafting
My love for crafts started at a very young age whilst watching my mum make her own clothes, curtains, cushion covers and anything she could think of! Whilst being at school and college, in my spare time, rather than going out with friends, I would sit at the dining room table, fill it with my crafts and indulge myself in all the buttons and sparkly things! When I left college and got myself a part time job, my crafts were sort of put aside as the hours I did went up and I was exhausted by the time I got home! (Partly because of my illness.) As I deteriorated and the pain got worse and my sick note was handed in, crafts didn’t even enter my mind and all I did was try and sleep the pain away. I didn’t leave the house as I physically & mentally couldn’t, but at the same time I was sick of the same 4 walls. After seeing the Neurologist and Neurosurgeon and hope was given to me, I knew I needed to find something to keep me going. As I am still off work, I needed to occupy myself on the good days I had rather than staying in bed. One day, I rooted through my crafts and the happiness I found in those drawers was unbelievable! Since then, I have my own little work station set up, a Facebook page to show and advertise my things and I have even had messages about selling my things in a shop on a commission basis! How exciting! Crafting gives me a reason to get up and do something with my day rather than wasting away in bed because I’m not working. It helps to keep my mind going and plus, the money helps too! Crafting makes me happy and all I want out of my crafts is to make others happy when they buy and receive them. I craft to battle through my illness because it gives me something to aim for and a reason to believe in myself when everything in the world feels like it’s going wrong.
Spreading awareness for the chronically ill. This video demonstrates a few of my symptoms and situations I’ve endured, as well as other chronically ill people in their day to day fight.
Highlighting how ignorance plays such a large role in the daily lives of the chronically ill. And how chronically ill people are often treated and the aftermath and toll it takes on their lives.
Through awareness and simple acts of kindness, you can positively impact the life of a chronically ill person.
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