Scars, Pride and Living...

The Scars of Illness...

I sometimes look at my hands and count the dots that run along my veins. You can always tell someone who has had numerous and prolonged hospital visits by their hands and arms. Sometimes I look at them with pride, I survived that one, and that one, and that time, and that time. But sometimes I wonder whether others look at them – to be fair they would have to look hard- and wonder whether I have experienced drug addiction?

I havent. But the amounts of times that I have needed to be put on Intravenous(IV) Lines for fluids, let alone the medications have been numerous over the years. From the last visit to hospital nearly 3 months ago I have gained another 4 on my right arm and hand, in the end because of the numerous times i've had to be put on IV fluids my veins have become poor in quality, making it harder on the nurses let alone the doctor to get the needle in.

Helpful hint: Nurses are by far better at putting in IV needles in than doctors. Trust me on this!!

I also have scars on my legs and stomach, daily injections to alleviate the chances of a Deep Vein Thrombosis and an unfortunate run in with a Sub-Cartilage fluid system in my stomach left me looking 6 months pregnant just days after my miscarriage. Stretch marks were a given i'm afraid.

But these days I look at the scars, the physical and the mental and i'm proud of myself. Completely and utterly PROUD that I got through some of the toughest times in my life. The beginning when I was told and thought I was going to die, the middle where every seizure lands me in hospital on numerous drips and the now, where I have a sore throat and scratched oesophagus from where a Nasal- Gastro Tube had to be forced down through my throat because I had lost my swallowing reflex, and they were desperate to get something in my stomach.

I'm proud of the fact that I have gone through all these things and STILL been able to come out the other end of things, with a mostly fighter and upbeat attitude about things. I sometimes have people talk to me, or write to me and just look on in wonder, at how i'm not a complete and utter bawling mess on the floor.

I dont have the answer. I guess i'm just too stubborn now to let anything phase me for long. Somethings have stayed with me, but they are bound to. But I dont have the energy now to worry about the small things, the insignificant and the days gone by.

I have Conversion Disorder, or rather as they now like to call it, Functional Neurological Disorder and I have ME/CFS, Myalgic Encephalopathy, or to the uninitiated, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I dont have the time or energy to let things get to me for long, I have other things that need worrying about. The Important Stuff. Making sure I take my medications, make sure I regain my balance between rest and activity and making sure my family and friends are happy and content, with me and themselves and finally working my ass off each Tuesday or Thursday doing Physio which I come out feeling great for my achievements, but broken because its taken so much energy.

Those are my priorities, everything else can go by the way side i'm afraid. I dont have the time or the inclination to be bothered by what other people want to say to me, or their expectations of me -the ball curled up in the corner sobbing over my misfortune. Yes I have down days, everyone does, but I have things to do and need to snap myself out of it sharpish before I let myself start to drown in it.

So the moral of today, is look at your scars and be proud- you survived what has happened and are around to tell the tale. Be proud that you were strong enough to get this far where so many have fallen and are unable to pull themselves back up again. Be proud that you are alive, and living life, whatever kind of life that it is. Because so many die young from far less than we. And more are dying daily from this horrid and untreatable disease we have: M.E.

So be proud and keep living, even in the dark days. Keep going.