Showing posts with label suicide. Show all posts
Showing posts with label suicide. Show all posts

Wednesday, 18 May 2011

New Path Awaits

So much to digest since my last update.

Let's begin with the previous post. In it, I very bluntly talked about the future and the fact that suicide was always one of the options on the table. Mostly, this was understood but I feel the need to clarify that I was NOT suicidal. I don't intend to take my own life tomorrow, next week or next month. It's simply the case that it must be kept in mind along with the possibility that I might be permanently unable to take part in life to any great degree. I know there are some people who love me who worry when they see me mention such subjects but I have always taken the view that this blog should be full of raw honesty and I have to maintain that decision. I will, from time to time, talk about subjects that are taboo within society or that unsettle others. That's just the way it is.

My last update also elicited a very interesting conversation with a friend. Let's call her April (not her real name). April was one of those I probably classed in the broad category of 'healthy friends' and my last post expressed how I felt like I didn't exist anymore. April got in touch and was quite angry about the assumptions I was making on the subject. What initially began as two very opposing views gradually turned into a very useful discussion that made me think a lot about my present reality and my future. It turns out that April has been suffering from Rheumatoid Arthritis since October last year, a condition just as incurable as M.E. and every bit as disabling (and probably much more painful). April has also had to adapt to a life where a lot of her independence is lost and she is battling very unpleasant symptoms with an illness that is regarded as chronic.

April takes a very different approach to the one I have taken. She doesn't make her condition public on places like Facebook for example. I, by contrast, have surrounded myself with Facebook friends who are also chronically ill as I need to feel understood, believed and supported. After reflecting for a while on our different approaches, I can see positive and negatives in both. The subject is way too long to get into right now but I will be writing about it in due course as it fits in with some very important decisions I've been making lately.

Returning to the present, today I was visited by my existing Occupational Therapist and an OT and Physiotherapist from the Rehab team at the local council. My existing OT was delivering my new bath chair and the Rehab team were here to talk about how I can have a decent level of independence and keep my muscles from wasting away without risking crashes/relapses.

The bath chair was a shock. Such equipment is very clinical looking and is designed with the elderly in mind more often than not. It therefore is quite difficult to psychologically adjust myself to needing it. It looks very like a stair-lift and operates the same way so it's hard not to imagine one of those TV adverts with the old dear travelling up the stairs with her cup of tea in her lap. However, I tried it out and there is no doubting it will be useful and will allow me to use much less energy when bathing.

The rehab team were focused upon more physical aspects and we have agreed a low-level exercise plan to try for a couple of weeks and see what the after-effects are. I'll probably keep an 'activity diary' so I can measure how much I can do without 'crashing'. I'm also going to get elbow crutches to try as they may allow me to be on my feet a bit more without being in danger of falling over! They also told me about a Community Car service that sounds wonderful. I would pay for it in much the same way as a taxi, and would have to book the service a few days in advance, but the driver and vehicle would be a lot more disability friendly and could allow me to have some independence in terms of GP and hospital appointments etc.

All of this has really lifted my spirits. I am delighted with how helpful and compassionate the therapists have been and I really feel like I have people on my side. I also feel like I have aspirational goals in terms of independence and getting some sort of quality of life back. It feels good to entertain the possibility of escaping these four walls.

A few days ago, I had been at a cross-roads and had made a decision that it would be worth having temporarily increased symptoms if it meant I had some sort of life experience again. So, the support from the therapists are going to fit very nicely with that decision. It might be that my abilities remain pathetically low for a long time to come but it seems important to try and check where my boundaries are and how much I can do. Even having one day of 'activity' each week would be much better than the current situation where I am almost living in bed.

So, a new path awaits. One that will be difficult and will contain setbacks but one that has great potential and that I want to try. I still have to work out a lot of stuff in terms of what I want from my life, healthy or ill, but that can be a work in progress. For now, it just feels important to have a little hope for the future. There are also a couple of 'treatment' options I am considering but I will get into those another time as this post is already way too long!

Friday, 6 May 2011

A Year of Illness

*warning - extreme honesty in this post, including exploration of suicide etc - do not read if easily offended/upset by the subject*

I've put off writing this post for so long.

Last month saw me reach the depressing milestone of being ill for 1 year. Now, before I go on, I should state that I know people who have been ill for 30+ years and I know people who have been ill since childhood and have never been able to take part in life much at all. In no way do I compare my situation to theirs. I'm new to all this in relative terms and I luckily still have pretty good cognitive functions and have memories of good times to keep me company in the endless days of nothingness.

However, I cannot ignore the fact that 1 year of illness feels very different to 11 months. Even if the reality is not much different. I guess it's kinda like the psychology of how an item is priced at 9,99 rather than 10.00. I always thought this would be temporary. Sure, I knew there was a possibility that I'd be sick for a long time but I don't think I really had that mindset. I was going to do everything I could to get better and then get back on with my degree and my future. I was going to go back to having holidays and spending time with my precious nephew and all the stuff I thought were just temporarily on hold. Now, a year later, it all feels like a distant life led by someone who isn't even me.

And it hurts. It hurts so fucking much. On days where I'm clear-headed and aware, I have philosophical debates with myself about suicide. Nobody knows what the future holds (which is just as well, really!) and I might be well again one day soon. I might be relatively functional again in the near future even if I don't recover. Or, I might be like this forever. So, I choose to retain control over this part of my life. The part about when and how my life ends. It's a controversial subject and I respect that but this is MY life and it will be MY choice.

I have explored two options. One being the Dignitas route and one being the 'do it yourself' helium method as used in the early days of Dr Kevorkian's work. Talking about this subject openly is impossible without having to soothe or reassure others who care about you, of course. So, I should clarify a few things. This is calm, rational and pragmatic and is based upon the possibility of me reaching my limit AT SOME POINT in the future. This isn't something I'm planning for next week. Also, this isn't something I'd even consider when I'm at my lowest. People can believe me or not but this isn't depression talking. I promise all those who might worry about me discussing this that I will not be doing anything drastic or rushed. If it reaches the point where enough is enough, it will be planned and everything will be put in order. But I retain my right to decide.

To any of my non-ill friends who still read what I write, I'm keen to know why you no longer have anything to say to me. Did I stop being fun when I got ill? Do you not believe i'm really ill? Are you bored of me talking about illness? Is it easier to avoid the whole subject and just ignore it/me? I doubt I'll get a response to this but I'm curious. Because I feel like I don't fucking exist anymore.

And so, what was originally going to be a reflective piece about the year of illness and all my learnings has turned into a rather different beast. I make no apologies for allowing my uncensored anger and despair to have a voice today but I appreciate anyone who has the love, curiosity or fortitude to 'listen'.