coldutewarmheart

On the 8th of September, I was admitted to a neurorehabilitation ward. I had no idea how well I'd cope- physically or mentally. In the month or so prior to admission, I went downhill a lot. And I mean A LOT. To the point where I was questioning the need to accept a hoist or go into a nursing home short-term. It was that bad. I was having non-epileptic seizures almost daily, that were lasting hours, and was feeling deathly. I even ended up in an ambulance to A&E at one point due to spending all day barely conscious. When I got the call to say my admission was imminent rather than several months away, I was shocked, but actually relieved more than anything. I knew I desperately needed the help, and the situation had become so difficult with me at home that something had to change urgently, so it felt like it had come at just the right time. I felt ready and keen, while also fully aware that it was going to be physically and mentally challenging.. The first day, I arrived and the ...

Advanced warning - this post is long ! Fellow fatigued people in particular- you may not want to read all at once! In the past I've shared all my medical battles and worries on here very openly. In the past, things have gone quiet only when I was too ill to write, too busy to, or there was little change so little to share. This time it's been a bit different. My long silence hasn't really been entirely for any of those reasons. The truth is that I needed some time and space to process things and understand things privately. When I received my first chronic illness diagnosis, it was many months before I talked openly about it with anyone; this time I was having to have daily discussions with doctors for months and was having to communicate with lots of different people fairly constantly. I couldn't, and didn't want to, hide my illness in the same way as I did back in 2010, but there were certain elements that I didn't want to share publicly/openly. I wanted the p...