My Experience of the Covid-19 Astra Zeneca Vaccine

 

Last Thursday, I finally got my first Covid-19 vaccine!

I'm officially part of the Astra Zeneca club.

I got a phone call from my doctor's surgery about a week earlier asking if I'd booked myself in for the Covid vaccine, but it was news to me. It turns out, they'd been trying to contact me by text for a while, but I never got the messages as my mobile's broken. Luckily, instead of having to make an appointment via text message, the receptionist was able to book me in for an appointment at my local doctor's surgery over the phone. All I had to do was print and fill out some vaccination forms, and take them along to the appointment. Simple as that.

I thought I'd share my experience of getting the Astra Zeneca vaccine with you guys for anyone who might like to know what to expect from the vaccine, and the side effects you might develop afterwards. Of course, the process might differ slightly from place to place, and everyone reacts differently to the vaccine, but it should help you get a feel for it.

So, on Thursday afternoon, I arrived at my local doctor's surgery ten minutes early, along with my younger sister, who was booked in at the same time. We weren't supposed to arrive early, but fortunately, the surgery was quiet, and they were able to see us straight away. 

A woman was waiting at reception, who passed our forms to the receptionists to check, and stuck a green dot sticker on our clothes. She then sent us across to another woman who provided pamphlets on what to expect from the vaccine, including a list of side effects we might experience. Before I even had a chance to glance at them, she told me a doctor was available, and sent me straight on through.

My doctor's surgery had converted their waiting room in to a vaccination point, and had a small set up with a Perspex screen separating the area from reception, but not from each doctor and patient. They merely had a few vaccination points with a doctor or nurse working from a small work space, with a few chairs beside them, and an aisle running in a square in between. I found it surprising that each area wasn't spaced far apart or separated from the others with walls for safety and privacy, but there were only a couple of other patients around (one was my sister), and apart from having to pass right by a lingering man to reach the doctor, it felt safe and relaxed.

I was seen by one of the doctors, who indicated that he was free, and invited me to sit down. He took my forms from me, told me that I would be having the Astra Zeneca vaccine, and asked me if I had any questions. I told him that I didn't, since I already felt well informed, and wasn't concerned about the tiny risk of blood clots recently reported on the news. He took a moment to prepare the needle and syringe while making small talk, warned me that I might feel a small scratch, and injected me in my upper arm. I barely felt a thing- it honestly hurt less than a routine blood test. After it was done, he told me I would need my second vaccine in eleven to twelve weeks time, and gave me a vaccine card, which I have to hold on to until the second appointment. I was then advised not to drive for fifteen minutes, and was free to go. The whole process, from entering the building to leaving, took all of two minutes. It was so easy and efficient, and completely painless.         

For the rest of the day, my arm only had a slight ache around the injection point, and I started to get a mild headache in the back of my head in the evening. I felt hopeful that I'd be one of the lucky ones, and would get off lightly with side-effects.

Who was I kidding? I'm never the lucky one. The next day, I awoke with similar symptoms, but within a few hours, I started to get aches all over, and then developed a temperature, a fever, and dizziness. I felt really fluish by the evening, and kept going from boiling hot to freezing cold. My head was so sore I could hear all the blood rushing around, and I just basically felt horrendous. On top of that, my Fibromyalgia and Arthritis were also flaring, and my lower back felt soooo inflamed I wanted to cry- although, I'm not sure if the vaccine aggravated my chronic pain, or if it was just a coincidence. I personally think it aggravated them.

Luckily, I woke up on Saturday, feeling much better, apart from a slight temperature, which went away a few hours later. By Sunday, all of the symptoms I had experienced had gone away completely, and I was back to my normal state of ill health except for my upper arm which had started to swell. I had hoped it would be better by Monday, but yesterday, the swelling was even worse. My upper arm was swollen up like a tennis ball, and my skin was stretched so tight it hurt. It's definitely gone down a bit over night, but it's still uncomfortable, and feels sore if I move it, touch it, or accidentally lean against something. Fingers crossed it'll be back to normal in a day or two.

It could be much worse, and I think I've gotten off lightly with this vaccine, only having one day of mild flu-like symptoms and a few days with a swollen arm. My Mum was ill for over a week with her first vaccine a few weeks ago. They're perfectly normal side effects in any case, and just show that the vaccine and my body are doing their jobs. I think a day or two of feeling ill is totally worth it to finally have some immunity against Covid-19, and help bring us another step closer in getting this terrible virus under control once and for all. It's a small price to pay if it can help save lives, weaken the virus, and help the world return to normal again. I'd much rather have a day or two of mild flu-like symptoms than have to fight for my life in ICU, hooked up to a ventilator with Covid-19.                                         

If you're still worried about getting the vaccine, don't be. It's so quick and painless. The side effects really aren't that bad, and you might get lucky and not get any at all. My Dad, for example, only got a mild headache. If you've got any concerns about having it, don't listen to the anti-vaxxers; have a chat with your doctor and let them answer any questions you might have. They'll be able to put your mind at ease. My parents, my sisters, my Nana, and an older Auntie have all been vaccinated so far, and we're all doing fine. 

I personally feel relieved to have been given the vaccine, and that several members of my family have had their's, too. It's a relief to have some immunity, and to know that if any of us catch the virus, it should help us survive it. I won't feel relaxed about the virus until we've all had our second jabs, and probably not even then, but it's a good start, and hopefully the beginning of the end of living in fear. It feels like we're one step closer to the end of the pandemic in England, and one step closer to reclaiming normality again. It feels good.

Have you had your first Covid-19 vaccination yet?

Another Boring Health Update

It's been a few months since I last sat down and wrote an update on everything that's been going on with my health, so I thought it was about time I wrote a fresh post to fill you in.

If you read my last health update in March, you might remember that in February I suddenly began experiencing some pretty intense tachycardia and palpitations that resulted in an emergency visit to A&E for an ECG. I had numerous tests at the hospital and with my GP, but the doctors couldn't find the cause of the problem because all of the other tests came back perfectly healthy, and the only conclusion was that my medication could be to blame. However, weeks after I was taken off the drug, my heart rate wasn't showing any signs of slowing down, so my GP eventually decided to refer me to a cardiologist for further tests, and an expert opinion.

And so I waited.

I eventually got an appointment through for the end of May, three and a half months after the symptoms began, which was a long, worrying wait when your heart is racing continuously, and you have no idea why. I have to admit that the length of time I had to wait scared me to begin with, because not knowing what was going on with my heart, I didn't know if my heart was going to hang in there long enough to get me there. I know that makes me sound over-dramatic, but three and a half months feels like an eternity when an organ you rely on to live is suddenly malfunctioning, and you have no idea why. All I could do was pray my heart kept beating long enough to get me to the appointment.

In the meantime, I had a number of appointments and blood tests with my GP to keep an eye on things. Thankfully, all the tests came back perfectly healthy, apart from my heart rate, and the usual high inflammatory and parathyroid levels which have been abnormal for years.

My GP was eager for me to go back and see my rheumatologist as a few months had passed since I'd last met with him, although I was waiting for the issues with my heart to stop before I continued with his care because it was more than I had strength for, and at the time, travelling was only increasing my heart rate. Of course, not long afterwards I received an appointment slip through the post... three days after the stated appointment date. I still have no idea who made the appointment. My GP didn't know anything about it, but she had contacted the rheumatologist to fill him in on the latest developments with my permission, so perhaps he made it. In the end, I had to rebook an appointment to see him, even though I knew it would be a complete waste of time and money because I couldn't take any new medicines, try any new treatments, or exert myself with exercise until I knew what was going on with my heart. It turns out, I was right; my rheumatologist wasn't willing to proceed with treatment until I'd seen the cardiologist, and we knew what was going on. He wasn't convinced the sulfasalazine tablets were to blame for my increased heart rate and palpitations, but he ran a few tests on me, and took my pulse, which was still beating away at around 120BPM! He was baffled, and curious to know what was going on.

While I was there, he suggested a couple of new anti-inflammatory drugs we could try once the heart issues were resolved as a replacement for the sulfasalazine, and talked about the results of my blood tests. My parathyroid, which is the thyroid which regulates how the body uses and stores calcium in the blood and bones, is still very high, and apparently if the hormone remains high for a long time, it can do so permanently which can lead to all sorts of problems like softening bones and kidney failure. If it remains high much longer, I may have to have surgery to remove the parathyroid glands from my neck, but if it happens, it happens. I'm told it's just a simple procedure so I'm not worried. Whatever I need to do to keep myself in working order. I'd rather go through the surgery than further health issues as a result of doing nothing.

There wasn't a lot else he could do until we knew what was going on with my heart, so we agreed to put care for my chronic illnesses on hold until I'd met with the cardiologist, and left it at that. That was £95 down the drain.

With everything going on with my heart,  my chronic pain and chronic illnesses have had to take a back seat, so I've had very little care, and no scans or treatments so far this year. I've not been making any progress, but as no painkiller or treatment has ever reduced my pain, or improved my mobility, it hasn't had a negative impact or made any difference to my life. I would just like to resume my care with the rheumatologist and spinal surgeon soon to try to find something that might help me improve enough to get some resemblance of a life back.

Between that appointment in April and the appointment with the cardiologist at the end of May, very little happened with my health care, apart from more blood tests to keep an eye on things. My heart continued to race uncontrollably at various speeds, and while now and then it slowed down a little, it's not gone back to normal since it all kicked off in February. There were a number of days when it raced so fast I was on the verge of going back to A&E because it was scaring me so much, but I didn't bother because I knew they wouldn't be able to do anything, and I'd have just been wasting their limited time, and resources. I had and continue to have a lot of sleepless nights because when your heart is beating uncontrollably fast it's not only uncomfortable, but surprisingly difficult to relax, and switch off enough to drift off to dreamland. On the particularly bad nights, the speed of my heart puts me on edge, and every time my eyes grow heavy or I feel my heart slow a little, I jolt awake with a fright, scared I'm about to die instead of go to sleep. It's exhausting.

At the end of May, I finally had my appointment with a cardiologist at the John Radcliffe. First I had to have an ultrasound on my heart, which included scanning my chest and left breast up to and including my neck. It was no big deal at all, except that it was actually quite uncomfortable in places, particularly when she scanned my throat, because they have to press down so hard with the Doppler to get a clear image. I also had another ECG- my heart rate was still around 120BPM- and my blood pressure was taken, which was completely healthy.

After the tests, I had to wait around for a while to see the cardiologist for the results. It turns out my heart is perfectly healthy and functioning at it should- apart from beating much too fast, of course. They don't believe my heart complaints are the result of a heart condition, which was a massive relief to hear, but in another way, it's frustrating because I still don't know what is causing the problem. When I asked the cardiologist if X, Y, and Z could cause tachycardia, he told me it could be caused by pain, stress, medication, anxiety, caffeine, other health conditions, nothing at all, and all sorts of other things, and then kinda rudely implied that he thought I looked like the type of person who would be overly anxious. I have to say, I was really offended because I'd only been in the room about thirty seconds, and had barely had a chance to open my mouth. Yes, I do suffer from anxiety but I wouldn't call myself overly anxious these days, as it's currently well-managed, and affects me more in social situations. I know it's not the reason because I've not been feeling anxious at all lately. I've noticed stress aggravates my symptoms, but I don't believe that's the cause, either. I still think the medication, or the strain of almost six years of constant pain is to blame, but lately I've been wondering if my laptop could be contributing to it because I use it so much when I'm propped up in bed with it sitting against my legs and stomach. Although, it was still racing like crazy when I was in Cornwall and away from technology for a week, so who knows. Perhaps I'll never get to the bottom of it.

The cardiologist suggested prescribing me some beta blockers to help slow down my heart a little, but advised that they have a tendency to cause extreme fatigue, which isn't what you need more of when you're living with fibromyalgia!

I finally began taking the beta blockers a couple of weeks ago. Unfortunately, all they did was increase my heart rate further, give me palpitations, and make me ill, so I had to stop taking them. I still need to speak to my GP about it, and find out if there's an alternative I can try, but I don't want to continue taking them.

I also recently went for an ultrasound on my ovaries to investigate the pain I was getting in my ovaries, groin, and abdomen at the same time my heart first began to race. I don't know if it was connected, but it seemed important to find out in case something in that region could be the cause. I noticed the pain was returning in monthly intervals and seemed to be be coming from the area around my reproductive organs, so I brought it up with the doctor, who wanted me to get an ultrasound to see what was going on. The scan was more to find out if I have PCOS, which I've always been pretty certain I have because I've never functioned normally, and it runs in my family, but I had never talked to a doctor about it. To be honest, it's never bothered me and I don't particularly want kids, so I never felt the need to. I'm still waiting for the results, but it'll be interesting to find out if anything is going on there, and if the results could give a reason for my heart issues. 

Everything seems to be a bit faulty with my body these days. I think I need to go in for repairs or a full body transplant! Haha!

So, it's been an eventful few months, and a lot has been happening, but it could've been a lot worse. My heart is still racing away five months down the line, and I still have no idea why, but the main thing is I'm still alive and fighting, and getting by just fine. I'm not giving up just yet! The grim reaper will have to try harder than that if he wants to catch me!

Well, that's me... how have you been?

Health Update | One Racing Heart and Two ECGs

I'm sorry it's been so quiet on the blog these past couple of weeks. I've been having a crazy, eventful and pretty scary time with my health lately, this time with my heart deciding to join the bandwagon of body part trolls that are committed to making my life insufferable. It's been so bad I ended up in A&E the Sunday before last, and found myself going through two ECGs in one week. To be honest, those weren't even the worst parts.

To explain, I guess I'm going to have to rewind a few weeks...

This is going to be one of those posts where I ramble and just let my thoughts and feelings spill out on to the page like a diary entry, because I think it's the only way I can explain properly, make sense of it all, and hopefully clear my mind of the stress in the process. It's probably going to be a bit of a long one, and I'm sorry if a lot of it doesn't make much sense.

About three weeks ago, I began getting some really weird symptoms. I had intense abdominal pain for a few days that was so painful I genuinely thought something had or was about to rupture, which then faded and gave way to excruciating, electric, nerve pain (like horrendously painful pins and needles) in my torso, arms, back, and spine. I was also getting numbness in places, and tender pain in parts of my spine that don't usually cause me too much grief, and all the while I was shaking constantly from head to toe, like my whole body had gone in to shock or I'd spent too long listening to Trump being a racist, sexist, self-obsessed dick. 

The problem was, I wasn't sure whether something new had happened, like a trapped nerve or another slipped disc, I'd caught a bug, or I was just having a particularly nasty flare up from one of my conditions, so I decided to hold off on going to the doctors, hoping it would magically improve on it's own in a couple of days. In my gut, I knew something wasn't quite right, but I didn't want to waste their time and I was even less eager to go in case it resulted in another scan (major claustrophobe right here) or getting hospitalised, if it did turn out to be serious, so I took my chances.

By the Saturday before last (18th Feb), the nerve pain had died down, but the shaking was only getting faster, and it was driving me crazy. Trembling constantly gets pretty irritating after a while. At 11pm or 12am that night, the shaking grew even faster and my heart began racing like crazy along with it. It was thumping so fast I thought my heart was going to explode. I tried everything I could think of to keep myself calm,and relaxed- deep breaths, concentrating on the TV, listening to some comforting music, reading... but nothing made a difference and it just wouldn't slow down. I couldn't relax, so I ended up being awake all night, too scared to sleep, thinking my heart was going to quit on me. I eventually drifted off around 6 or 7AM for two hours, but by 9AM I was awake again for the day, well and truly exhausted.

On the Sunday morning (19th Feb), the shakiness had climbed to a whole new level, and my heart was still beating furiously, so I was beginning to worry that something serious was going on with me. I decided to tell my Mum what was going on around midday, but I didn't know what to do- whether to go to A&E, wait to call the doctor the next morning, or do nothing and try to ride it out. I mulled it over and did my best to make myself as comfortable as I could curled up in bed, trying to distract myself with the TV and my cross stitch, but that didn't work at all. My heart rate was freaking me out so much it was impossible to concentrate on anything else.

After taking my second dose of medication for the day, around 3pm, my heart suddenly began beating uncontrollably, to the point I was struggling to catch my breath, and it just kept getting worse and worse. I was really starting to get scared by this point, so I knew it was time to see a doctor. I was adamant I didn't want anyone to call for an ambulance because I didn't want to take one away from someone who needed it more, when I was probably just making a mountain out of a mole hill. My Mum was panicking, so my sister, Marie, who used to be a nurse, came round, took charge and after feeling my pulse and being able to see my heart beating through my skin, phoned 111. After answering a million questions, about my symptoms and my health, he encouraged me to go straight to A&E, so I quickly chucked on some clothes, and found myself stressing about going out in public with no bra and dirty, tangled hair I'd not been well enough to wash in over a week more than my heart rate. I have my priorities down!

Marie drove me to A&E, and during the journey, it quickly got a lot worse. My heart was racing uncontrollably, and I began to get pain and tightness in my chest, made worse by every little bump in the road. By the time we got to the hospital in Oxford about 25 minutes later (I live out in the sticks), it was so tight and painful I felt horrendous, and was struggling to put one foot in front of the other to walk from the car in to the hospital. Marie wanted to go get me a wheelchair but I asked her not to because I was a little scared (by my heart, not of the hospital) and didn't want to be on my own feeling like that in a dark, quiet car park. Thankfully, a kind paramedic in the ambulance bay let us walk in through the ambulance entrance to A&E because I don't think I would have made it all the way through to the public entrance- it was quite a trek.

I somehow made it to the waiting room, and in to a chair, and Marie had to leave me on my own for a bit to check me in at reception. I honestly think that was the worst part of the whole ordeal for me that day because, although there were only about half a dozen people in the queue, there was only one person working on reception and the queue just wasn't moving. According to Marie, the woman was working at a snail's pace. She must have been waiting a good ten or fifteen minutes to be seen, but to me it felt like an eternity. I was feeling absolutely atrocious by this point, like I had the flu on top of the agonising chest pain that felt like my heart was being constricted within an inch of its life, I didn't think I was having a heart attack before I reached that waiting room, but I sure thought I was about to have one while I was sitting there alone.

Thankfully, once Marie had checked in, I only had to wait a few minutes before I was seen by a really friendly (possibly South American or Spanish) male nurse. I guess it was lucky that it was a Sunday night, and one of the quieter times of the week. It wasn't deserted, and there were dozens of patients, but it was far quieter than I'd expected the John Radcliffe A&E to be, even on a Sunday night. He really helped to put me at ease so from that point I was completely calm and stopped worrying because I felt like I was in good hands. He took all my medical info, along with my blood pressure (which I think got up to 150/110), temperature, and blood oxygen levels (both perfectly healthy), plus a bunch of other stats, and then directed me to a small waiting room within A&E where Marie and I waited until I was collected by a doctor a short while later.

I had two young doctors working on me at the same time, a man and a woman, neither were particularly chatty, but they did a good job of looking after me, and trying to work out what was going on through tests and asking loads of questions. I had some blood tests done, which ended up taking a while because they had difficulty finding a vein and drawing blood, and then was fitted with a cannula. Then after taking some stats, I was moved in to a cubicle, got hooked up to some monitors for a couple of hours, had various tests done, and had my very first ECG.

I was completely relaxed and unfazed, lying on the hospital bed having all these tests, but my heart rate was, unbelievably, racing away at up to 160BPM!! I don't know what it is usually, but I think it's in the region of around 70-75. I may be fat and chronically ill, but I've always had a really healthy heart rate for my size, even when exercising. It's never climbed even close to as high before, and I've never had any heart problems before, either. After a while it was still fluctuating between 127-140BPM, but it was beating steadily and consistently, apart from the occasional nerve twitch, and the doctors were scratching their heads because apart from my heart rate and blood pressure being a little high, all of the tests came back perfectly healthy. It was a relief to know I wasn't having a heart attack, but it still didn't explain why my heart was racing like crazy. I did tell the doctor that I had recently had my sulfasalazine dosage increased, but he didn't think anything of that, and after waiting around for the results of my blood tests for an hour or so, his best guess was I was probably just suffering from dehydration- although, I wasn't convinced that was all it was. He felt confident enough to discharge me by about half ten, so we made our way home again back to the sticks.

During the journey my heart rate got a little faster again, but I was hopeful I'd feel better in a day or two and just had to ride it out. Once I got home, I got some fluids in to me, managed to eat half a sandwich, as I'd eaten nothing all day, and took my painkillers, leaving out the sulfasalazine as I felt like I would vomit if I took another mouthful of water in order to swallow it. I crawled in to bed absolutely exhausted, and in agony, and thankfully, managed to fall asleep around 2AM.

The next morning (Feb 20th), I was feeling a little better, and my heart rate had slowed down a bit overnight, which was an encouraging step in the right direction. At 3PM, it began getting faster again, and after taking my last dose of medication for the day, at 12:20AM that night / Tuesday morning, it suddenly pounded to life once more, hammering away uncontrollably beneath my skin like a drummer on seventy-six cans of Red Bull beating the shit out of a drum kit. I automatically realised that my heart rate had noticeably increased after taking my medication that day, the afternoon before, and on Saturday night, and only during the doses that included my anti inflammatory drug, sulfasalazine. When I thought back, I was able to work out the shakiness and unusual symptoms had started around the time I'd had the dosage increased from three to four tablets a day. I Googled the known side effects of the drug to see if any of them matched up and whether I could be right... fast heart beat, chest pain, difficulty breathing, dizziness, abdominal pain possibly radiating to the back, gastric upset, bluish skin... so many of them fit. I was pretty certain I'd found the culprit, but that didn't stop me from spending another night being extremely panicky and struggling to remain calm. I couldn't catch my breath again, and I was so freaked out by the speed my heart was thundering I didn't fall asleep until dawn.

From early Tuesday morning (Feb 21st) and throughout Tuesday, my heart rate felt like it was speeding even faster than it was on the night I ended up in A&E, and I completely admit I was terrified. I hadn't taken any more of the tablets, but it wasn't slowing down, and it just felt like it was out of control. I couldn't calm myself down, I couldn't catch my breath, and my chest felt so tight, I was having difficulty breathing and speaking. I was so freaked out and unwell, I was in tears. I didn't see the point in going back to A&E after all of those tests had shown I was otherwise healthy, but we phoned my GP for advice mid-afternoon. She wasn't able to phone me back until 6:30PM, by which time the surgery was closed for the night, but she was pretty shocked to hear of what was and had been happening. She put me on hold while she looked up the reports from the hospital, and in to the side effects of sulfasalazine, and although she couldn't find increased heart rate listed in whatever literature she referred to, she agreed it probably was the cause, and not to take any again. She was quite concerned, so she booked me in to have another ECG at the doctors surgery the next morning, and to see her afterwards, but told me I was to go back to the hospital for help if I got worse at any stage beforehand.

So, I went in for my second ever ECG at midday the next day with a nurse at the practise, and was surprised that this time it only took five minutes. I'd fully expected to be there for at least an hour. My heart rate had slowed down considerably since the day before, but it was still very high, going at 117BPM- four and a half days after it first started racing. I think it climbed to around 180 BPM the night before, as I was averaging three beats a second, but I can't be certain because my medical knowledge is limited to two years of animal care, common sense, and episodes of Grey's Anatomy.

My GP saw me a little later and I have to say, she was very thorough, running all sorts of tests on me, to the point she even measured and compared the circumference of my calves. I'm still not sure why that was or what it had to do with my heart rate, but they didn't appear to be a problem. She was very concerned about my heart rate, but utterly bewildered because, by all accounts, everything was healthy and normal apart from my heart rate. She still wasn't entirely certain it was all caused by the sulfasalazine, but after hearing my evidence, it was the only conclusion she was able to make there and then. I was advised not to take them again, and asked to cut my amitriptyline dosage in half as apparently that can also increase the heart rate. I've been on that drug for over five years and nobody has ever told me that. She took more bloods before I left, and arranged for me to see her again the following Monday, but told me to contact her or go back to A&E if certain symptoms got worse at any point in the following days.

Over the following days, my heart continued to race with eagerness at various speeds, and I was basically on edge the entire time, freaking out whenever it sped up, slowed down, continued racing, or morphed in to palpitations. Basically every waking second. It probably sounds like I was being ridiculous and over-dramatic, but I kept worrying it was either going to turn in to a heart attack, or suddenly stop beating, exhausted and damaged from racing continuously for so long, because surely hearts can only withstand so much. It was really frightening. I found myself crawling down the stairs on a number of occasions when I could barely even stand because of my chronic pain, out of fear of being alone in my room feeling so on edge, in need of people to distract me from focusing on it.

On one particularly bad evening, Rosie, my dog, laid herself over my legs on the sofa, and wouldn't leave me, and kept watching me with this really concerned, fearful look in her eyes that I've never seen her make before. She even got up and put her foot on my heart a couple of times. Call me crazy, but I honestly think she knew I was ill and was trying to look after me.

By last weekend (25th-26th Feb), it finally felt like my heart was slowing down, and perhaps I was beginning to recover, except for the fact I now had palpitations, and my heart beat was fluttering every five or six seconds. It got a little faster again on the Sunday night, and kept me awake, so I was only able to catch two hours sleep before I was up for my doctor's appointment first thing last Monday morning (27th Feb).

At the doctor's surgery once more, my heart rate was fast again, and my GP was concerned that it still wasn't back to normal over a week since it had first began to race and I'd stopped taking the drug. (Although, it could have been racing because I had a pounding headache and every little sound in the noisy waiting room had been torture. My head hasn't stopped pounding in a fortnight). My blood tests had come back clear- my kidneys were healthy, my white blood count was normal... everything except my inflammation levels were perfectly fine, but we already know they're warped. She suggested that I should meet with a cardiologist for a 24 hour map of my heart (I think it was called a holtor test- like an ECG, but for an entire 24 hours) to get a more in depth look at how my heart is functioning, and hopefully get to the bottom of all of this, if the medication isn't the cause. I think it's a sensible idea at this stage, so I'm now waiting to hear back with an appointment.

She also pitched the idea about weaning me of my Amitriptyline and Tramadol painkillers, because apparently they can also speed up the heart. I had to be honest with her, and told her I'm barely coping with my chronic pain as it and I'm in so much pain 24/7 that I'm bed ridden most of the time and can't even look after myself properly, needing help from my family for a lot of things. I know I would not be able to function at all if she took me off both of them and left me with just paracetamol and vitamin D! I've experienced it before- an absolute twat of a doctor took me off all my meds cold turkey about four years ago, and I went through horrific withdrawal symptoms for three days because of his actions. I was in so much pain I was writhing in agony and couldn't even lie in one spot for more than ten seconds; it was agony and I've never been so sick or in so much pain in my life. I still get a little distressed when I think back to it, and I just can't go through that again. I agreed to cut my Amitriptyline down even further from 100mg to 25mg, but for now we're leaving the Tramadol as it is. Of course, if it does turn out something serious is going on with my heart, it's something I will have to consider, but I personally don't think it's currently causing me any of the problems.

When I got home, I got to thinking that perhaps it wasn't just the sulfasalazine causing the problem, but that it was still continuing because I had cut caffeine out of my diet since the night in A&E, to avoid aggravating my heart rate further, and that I could in fact be experiencing withdrawal symptoms from caffeine, alongside a reaction to the drug.

Here's where I admit I've had a pretty bad addiction to cola since I was about fifteen or sixteen, and have barely gone a day without at least one can of coke since the turn of the millennium. I'm now thirty-one. I'm not proud of it. I've completely wrecked my teeth, and I know it's extremely unhealthy to consume regularly, but I've never managed to kick the habit. I've tried, but never succeeded for more than a few days. I've been drinking maybe two or three cans a day in recent years, but since that night in the hospital, I've only drank one can altogether. It may or may not have been what started up my heart in the first place, but I'm becoming more and more certain that it's the reason why it's continued for so long: I've probably been experiencing withdrawal from caffeine these past two weeks! After doing a lot of Googling on caffeine withdrawal, the symptoms seem to fit, and I think I've found my answer. I queried this last night with my GP when she phoned to check how I was getting on, and she agreed it was highly likely to be what was going on. I'd had a bad reaction to sulfasalazine and aggravated it with caffeine withdrawal.

Let's just say, I'm not in a hurry to drink caffeine again any time soon.

My heart continued to race and flutter throughout last week, and at times I felt extremely unwell, but by Thursday, it finally began to slow down, and I started to feel more like myself again, with my chronic pain taking the lead once more. I still have palpitations and irregularities and it hasn't quite returned to a normal speed or rhythm just yet- and it picked up speed again over night and it's racing again now- but I'm hopeful I'm on the road to recovery now. I feel so much better this week, and can't wait for life to get back to normal. I guess time will tell if my medication and the caffeine were to blame, or if something more serious is underlying with my heart, but fingers crossed it's the former and I never have to go through something like this again. I can honestly say I've never been more scared in my life than I have been these past three weeks. I've been frightened and on edge the entire time and aware of every single beat thumping and fluttering under my skin. As much as I've tried, it's been near impossible to switch off and relax, and far too easy to focus on my own mortality. Give me chronic pain any day; it's much easier to live with.

I did attempt to blog a few times during all the craziness, but I found that trying to curate a blog post was too stressful and was increasing my heart rate, so I decided it was best to take a break from blogging until I was through the worst of it.  I couldn't even turn on my laptop much because I felt nauseated just looking at the screen. I'm sorry I went AWOL for a while, but now I'm finally feeling more like myself again, I'm hoping I'll be able to get back in to the swing of things, and start bringing you lots of exciting new content again. I have so much I want to blog about, but I think I'll just have to take it one day at a time and ease myself back in gently while I recover. One day at a time...

If you made it through to the end, thanks for reading, and listening to my boring rambles. I hope I've not sent you to sleep! I promise there'll be some more exciting posts on the blog soon!

Have you ever had a bad reaction to your medication, caffeine withdrawal, or problems with your heart?

Thoughts That Go Through My Head In Hospital Waiting Rooms

I've spent a lot of time in hospital waiting rooms over the last five years, waiting for appointments that I hoped would give me a full diagnosis to explain my chronic pain, or provide me with some relief from my symptoms. Consultations, blood tests, X-rays, scans, physiotherapy, acupuncture, facet injections, manipulation... the list of appointments goes on. Basically, I've had so many hospital visits, sometimes I feel like I live there.

I probably spend more time in the waiting rooms than with the doctor, nurse, or physiotherapist, because appointments are rarely on time. Depending on the reason for my visit, waiting around can stir up all kinds of thoughts and emotions, from fear to boredom, causing my mind to go in to over drive and over think to pass the time. All kinds of thoughts have been known to enter my head while I've been in waiting rooms, so for kicks, I'm going to share a bunch of them with you today.  Why? Because I can.

♥ Why are pain clinics and physio departments always so far away from hospital entrances?

♥ Why is it so hot in here? Have I entered the gateway to hell?

♥ Why are all these people staring at me? Is it because I'm fat, young (ish), wearing loud clothes, don't look ill? Are they wondering what's wrong with me? What?

♥ Seriously, why won't they stop staring at me? I hate this.

♥ How much longer do I have to sit here? My appointment was 23 seconds ago.

♥ I hope I don't have to strip down to my underwear or wear a hospital gown today. Please let me keep my clothes on.

♥ Am I wearing matching underwear? Nice underwear? Did I remember to shave my legs? No? Shit. I'll definitely be stripping down to my underwear today, then. And in front of the fit osteopath. Fuck.

♥ Does anybody actually read those random magazines about fishing, rambling, and hunting?

♥ Why are appointments never on time, even when you're one of the first of the day?

♥ I wish I was in bed, in my PJs, blogging, and having a Netflix marathon.

♥ Why am I the only patient here under 50?

♥ Will the doctor / nurse / physiotherapist be kind and try to help me, or will they just dismiss what I'm saying and shoo me away? Will they believe me? Judge me? Treat me like I'm wasting their time?
♥ Will they treat me badly because I'm fat?

♥ Will they assume my health problems are just down to being fat?

♥ Is this appointment going to be a waste of time, or will it be another step forward?
♥ I've got nothing to worry about; it's going to be fine.

♥ Mother, chill. You're stressing me out. 

♥ Must not laugh out loud at hilarious meme / Tweet / Facebook status/ Instagram photo on my phone. Must. Not. Laugh. Oops, too late.

♥ I wish I'd remembered to bring a drink in with me; my mouth is as dry as the Sahara. They really should have vending machines or water coolers in this hospital.

♥ I hope I don't have to write or sign anything today; my hands are so shaky!

♥ I must look like my body is shaking from fear or a drug addiction. This is so embarrassing.
♥ I wonder what health conditions, ailments, or injuries these people have.

♥ I wonder if any of these people have any of my health conditions. I wonder if any of them are going through a similar situation.

♥ Either somebody has a voodoo doll of me, or body, you are being one mean son of a bitch. Pain, this is no time to throw a tantrum. Do you want to have us hospitalised? Don't make me come down there!
♥ I really don't feel so good. Hurry up, doctor, so I can go throw up and get home to bed.
♥ My back and legs are killing me. I don't think I can take this pain much longer. Body, why do you hate me?

♥ Do I look as bad as I feel? Do I look ill, or do I look perfectly healthy to all these people?

♥ I should have brought my book with me. Why did I leave my bag in the car?

♥ I hate these uncomfortable waiting room silences.

♥ What did the blood tests / scans find? What will they diagnose me with this time? Has anything improved or worsened since the last one?

♥ What will the plan of action be this time? New medication? More physiotherapy? Injections? Acupuncture? Mummification? Ritual sacrifice? A magical elixir made from the blood of my enemies?

♥ Please, Jebus, don't let him send me for another claustrophobic scan, like he was considering doing last time. Anything but that. Save me, Jebus! *Has silent panic attack.*

♥ Where's Doctor McSteamy when you need him?

♥ I need some fresh air.

♥ I wonder if I can convince my Dad to take a detour through McDonalds on the way home...
♥ I hope he's not too bored waiting around for me in the car / coffee shop.

♥ Aw, it's lovely that the elderly man sitting across from me is taking care of and reassuring his poorly wife. / It's sad that that lady is here alone. / It's sweet that that man's got so much love and support from his family.
♥ I wonder what crimes the two guys handcuffed to Police in front of me have committed. I wonder what they're here for. (This happened when I was getting physio at a hospital in Oxford a few years ago).

♥ How much longer do I have to sit here? My appointment was 45 minutes ago.

♥(Another 45 minutes later). This is taking the piss now. How much longer is he going to b- FINALLY! Hallelujah! The old geezer didn't die at his desk after all. All is forgiven.

♥ Okay, my legs and backside have gone to sleep.
♥ (Stiff from sitting in a chair for so long, walking across to the doctor). I feel like the little old lady from the Tweety Pie cartoons.
♥ I hope he doesn't mind shaking my slightly sweaty hand. *Quickly wipes hand on dress.*

♥ Okay, let's do this!

What goes through your mind in hospital or doctor's surgery waiting rooms?

Health Update | August 2015

I've been meaning to write this health update for ages, but I've been so stressed and drained lately that the words just haven't come. My head has been all over the place, and with so many thoughts somersaulting around up there, causing me a lot of worry, I've been finding it difficult to concentrate on anything.

There has been quite a few developments with my health since the Spring, and the journey has been heavy, over-whelming, and at times a little frightening. That probably sounds like I'm being over-dramatic, but I'm not trying to be; it's just the way it was.

If you've been following my blog for a while (and have a good memory), you might remember that at the start of the year I had a bunch of blood tests done to check for, or rule out, any underlying inflammatory conditions that could be contributing to my health problems. At the time, I was having difficulty sorting out an appointment with the spinal specialist to chat about the results, but I was eager to hear it from him because I didn't believe my useless GP when he told me they were negative.

Well, after a four month wait, I finally got an appointment with the specialist in late April or early May. He was shocked by what my GP had told me, since the tests showed a few abnormalities, and an underlying inflammatory condition! Why was I not surprised? He told me I most likely have some form of arthropathy, which is a collective term for inflammation and disease of the joints. To find out for sure, I needed the specialist help of a rheumatologist, so I was referred to a colleague of his at the same hospital, and more blood tests were ordered.

Two weeks after that, I met with the rheumatologist for the first time. Being a first consultation, that appointment was mostly about gathering all the information about my health, and medical history, something I've done so many times I practically have a speech memorised. He looked through all of my CT and MRI scans from last Summer, and while they show a lot of inflammation in my body, he didn't see enough to send alarm bells ringing. "Get this girl to intensive care, NOW!" Like the spinal specialist, he believed it was likely I have some form of arthropathy and not something along the lines of rheumatoid arthritis. He wanted to see the results of the new blood tests to gather more information before ruling anything out, though, which were, typically, scheduled for the following day. Sod's law!

So, the next morning I had my blood tests. Or, I should say, the first round of blood tests.  I had eight vials of blood harvested , and went on my merry way, a little worried about what the tests might find, but blissfully ignorant to the fact things were about to get ugly.

Less than a week later, I had a missed phone call from my Doctor's surgery, early in the morning. I phoned back in the afternoon, and the receptionist told me I needed to have more blood tests done. I was a little surprised, but I arranged an appointment anyway, and spent a few hours worrying why I needed to have more. What was wrong? What had they found? I eventually managed to push all health and medical related thoughts from my mind, and by half eight, I was even giggling away at The Big Bang Theory. Then, just before 9pm, the house phone rang...

We don't get a lot of phone calls on the land-line at that hour, since everybody uses their mobiles these days, so I had an unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach. The fear only grew as I heard the thunderous sound of my Dad's heavy footsteps climbing the stairs to give me the phone. He didn't know who was calling, but thrust the phone in to my hand. It turned out to be a doctor from the surgery. The doctor who had phoned early in the morning, and one I'd never met or spoken to before.

It was 9pm on a Thursday night... I knew that wasn't a good sign. 

Doctors don't phone patients at that hour if nothing is wrong.

It scared the shit out of me.

She told me that the first lot of blood tests revealed I have severe calcium, vitamin D, and phosphate deficiencies, and that she needed me to get my kidney bloods tested ASAP, because the deficiencies could be a sign of a couple of serious kidney problems. Well, naturally, that last piece of news frightened the crap out of me. I kept my cool, but inside my heart was hammering and my mind was going a mile a minute.

I tried to reassure myself that it wasn't all caused by something as serious as a faulty kidney, because I knew of two simpler explanations. One, I've been house bound for almost four years now, and have barely made it out of the house all year, so I've not been getting the vitamin D we all need from the day light. Two, I've not been eating enough foods rich in calcium because most dairy products make me ill, so I'm pretty certain that the calcium deficiency is just down to my diet. The doctor agreed I was probably right, and mentioned putting me on vitamin replacement tablets if the kidney bloods came back clear. She then arranged appointments for the blood tests the following week, and another to give me the results over the phone. She seemed really on the ball, asking lots of questions, taking an interest, explaining the situation in detail, and suggesting what might happen next. For the first time in four years, I felt like a doctor on the NHS was finally taking me seriously and seemed to know what they were doing! I don't know if she's a permanent doctor at my surgery (she's new), but I might stick with he if she is.

So, after that phone call, I was pretty shaken up- literally, I was physically shaking. My blood tests weren't for another five days, and I couldn't stop myself from over thinking and worrying myself sick all week. I lost a lot of sleep. and I was so stressed that I came out in a rash. 

On the Monday morning, I had the blood tests done, which took all of two minutes. I was told they'd phone me ASAP if the tests revealed anything seriously wrong with my kidneys, and then I was free to leave. (Thankfully, after another four days worrying myself sick, on the 3rd of July, I found out that those blood tests came back clear and my kidneys were perfectly fine! To say I was relieved is an understatement!)

A couple of hours after those blood tests were taken, I travelled further afield for an appointment with the rheumatologist. Even though I knew about some of the latest developments from a letter he'd sent me the same week the GP broke the news over the phone, I wasn't quite prepared for everything I would hear.

Doctor C sat me down and said it was highly likely that the inflammatory condition I have is spondyloarthropathy, which is a general name for any joint disease of the vertebrae column. Whether anything can be done to ease the pain, I don't yet know, but he told me I will almost certainly have aches and pains in my bones and joints for life whichever inflammatory condition I have. I've had them regularly since I was twelve or thirteen, and while they're a bitch when they really get going, I can live with them. They're far more manageable that the constant spinal pain I have from the bertolotti's disease (fused spine) and the herniated discs, that's for sure.

Then, he moved on to the deficiencies. This was when things got all too real. I have such severe calcium, vitamin D, and phosphate deficiencies that I've developed something called osteomalacia- softening bones. Basically, the adult version of rickets! I was fucking speechless. I couldn't believe it. I've never even heard of an adult getting rickets before, not in this day and age, anyway- but, that wasn't all. Along with the deficiencies, I have a problem with my parathyroid, which is something which controls the calcium in our bones, blood, and nervous system. When there isn't enough calcium in the body, it starts taking it from the bones instead, which weakens and softens them. My parathyroid isn't working properly, so it's making it even harder for my body to use and store calcium properly, so it's all led to osteomalacia. 

I've only got myself to blame for this one. 

When I opened up about my intolerance to dairy, the doctor asked if I eat dairy substitutes, like soya. Until then the thought had never even occurred to me! I'd just cut out the foods that made me ill with no thought about what the lost vitamins could do to my body. All I wanted was to keep the stomach cramps and sickness away. I didn't seek help from my doctor like I should have done, and it's finally caught up with me. I can't believe how stupid I've been.

Thankfully, the doctor said he should be able to reverse some of the problems in time. He put me on a three month course of vitamin D and calcium replacement tablets, that I started soon after that appointment, and will be on until at least mid-October. At the moment I'm on one Fultium-D capsule and one Adcal tablet a day, on top of all my painkillers. The Adcal tablets are about the size of a giant button, have to be chewed or sucked, and taste like chalk. Tutti fruity flavoured chalk. I'm still struggling not to gag on them every day. Anybody want to take them for me?? No?

He's also urged me to get outside for at least ten minutes a day to get the vitamin D I need from the daylight- but that's been easier said than done since most days I struggle to even get down the stairs. I'm doing my best, but I haven't quite managed every day yet. One day at a time...

I'm having to have more blood tests every couple of weeks so the doctors can monitor my bloods and see if the tablets are working. It's a good thing I'm not scared of needles!  The last batch of these blood tests will end in October, and I've got another appointment with the rheumatologist before that, near the end of September. I'm not sure what the next step will be after that, but hopefully, the specialists will have something up their sleeves that could make a difference this time. I just have to wait and see.

So, now the dust has settled a bit, I'm left feeling like a complete idiot for getting myself in this mess. I've not been looking after myself properly for... well, quite a while now, and it's finally caught up with me. I don't know what I was thinking.

I guess I never thought things could or would get worse than they already were, but I've definitely proved myself wrong on that one. Things can almost always get worse. You can hit rock bottom and then get crushed under the weight of all the rocks above it, especially when you don't take care of yourself.

I'll be honest; I've not felt so well this past year. My mental health has been okay, even though I've been so stressed and worried, but my physical health hasn't been great at all, The pain has been raging something fierce in my back, legs and bones all year, and it's been draining the life out of me. My limbs have been shaking. My legs are so weak I keep losing my balance, and I've been having dizzy spells. The circulation in my legs, feet, and hands has been getting worse, and every now and then I've been losing sensation in my fingers. My lips have turned blue and icy cold on a number of occasions, and let's not get started on the broken wrist scare I had a few weeks ago... (Long story).

On top of all of that, so many foods have been making me ill and the smell of others keep making me feel nauseated, so I've not been eating properly. I've jut not felt up to eating much. Mostly, I've been getting by on one meal a day at most. I know that's not healthy, and I know it's contributed to some of the deficiencies, so I'm trying to sort myself out before my body gives out. I need a big kick up the backside. And maybe a new body! I must have done something really bad in a past life to make mine hate me so much!

As I've been dealing with all of that, I've spent most of the year stuck in bed in my pyjamas. This is the reason I've not blogged any outfit posts in months; I've not had any outfits to share. You wouldn't want to see me in my pyjamas with unwashed hair and slightly grey-tinged skin; trust me! I've only been dressed in proper clothes when I've ventured out of the house, which hasn't been often. Between January and July, excluding medical appointments, I probably left the house less than a dozen times.

Since everything unfolded last month, I've been doing my best to push through the pain as much as possible to get out and about more. I think I've left the house more these last few weeks than the rest of the year combined! My brother-in-law is away on a detachment in Dubai until January, and I've been doing my best to push myself to my limits to keep my sister company on the nights / weekends she doesn't have plans or company. They recently adopted a two year old German Shepherd, so I've joined my sister on a few gentle walks in the country park to get my vitamin D, and I'm hoping to keep it up maybe once a week or fortnight. It puts me out of action for a few days afterwards, but I think it's doing my mental and physical health some good. I'm looking forward to some gorgeous walks when Autumn sets in.

Aside from walks, we're also planning lots of things to do from now until Christmas, mostly to keep my sister busy while her hubby is away, but also because I need some fun things to aim for and ways to escape from my Groundhog-day-life. There are a few local places we want to visit, crafts we intend to try, and some Christmas foods the brother-in-law wants us to make ready for his R & R in December. He won't be home for Christmas, but he'll be back for two weeks in early December, which is close enough. I might blog my way through some of them, but we'll have to wait and see!

I think I should also apologise for the lack of decent blog posts this year. I know my posts have been shit, and there have been too many days in between them. I've got hundreds of ideas for posts, but I've been so drained and stressed that my head has been all over the place. It hasn't made it easy to write, and I've not had a lot of strength to take blog photos, either. I hope I can get back on track this Autumn because I'm raring to go. I promise I'll do my best!

If you've made it all the way to the end, thank you for putting up with my boring rambles. I didn't mean this post to be so long; apparently there were more thoughts that I needed to get out than I realised. I already feel like a weight has lifted, so letting it all out is just what I needed.

Before I go, I just want to say that even though I've got a lot to deal with, I am doing okay, and I won't be giving up the fight any time soon! I will never let it break me.

Thanks for reading.

Another Boring Health Update (April 2015)

It's been about a month since my last health update, so I thought it was about time I stopped by to tell you what's been happening.

If you read last month's post, you might remember that I'd just been diagnosed with an inflammatory condition, but was waiting to see my doctor to find out which one I'd been diagnosed with.

So, the big news?

I couldn't tell ya!

I still don't know.

It's been six weeks since I received the letter which brought word of a diagnosis, and I still don't know the full picture.

I naively thought the process of finding out would be pretty simple; phone up the hospital, make an appointment, see the specialist for a chat, come up with a new plan of action, come home, the end. Sadly not. It's been frustratingly complicated.

For starters, it took me the best part of a week to get hold of my specialist's NHS secretary to make an appointment, only to be told I need to get referred back again by my GP. (My specialist is a private spinal surgeon, but he chose to take me on as an NHS patient in early Autumn.) I've just spent four or five months going to physio with his osteopath colleague- who he referred me to- in the same hospital, but because I've not seen him personally in three months, I have to be re-referred. It's frustrating because my specialist sent me for treatment, got my blood tests results, made the diagnosis, and sent me the letter to tell me. Surely that should count as being under his care?? Apparently not to his secretary.

I wasn't thrilled about having to go back to see my useless GP after all that had happened. I think I even expressed how determined I was to never see him again in my last update. He'd made too many mistakes. I couldn't deal with the stress of going to see him, so I put off phoning up for an appointment for a week or two, to give myself a break. I finally manned up, and went to make an appointment about a month ago... only to learn he'd had a stroke that weekend. Poor guy. As useless as he's been, he is a nice man, and he didn't deserve a stroke. I don't know how bad it was, but I guess even mild ones can be life-altering. It's sad because he's only fifty-something.

I made an appointment to see a different GP who I have seen in the past, but I had to wait a few more weeks because all of the doctors were busy taking on his appointments as well as their own.

I could have gone to see my specialist privately the same week I received the letter, but I thought it was stupid and careless to pay £175 to see him (the fee for a 10 minute consultation), when I could wait a little longer and see him for free. £175 is a lot of money to waste and there are so many better things it could be spent on. It's the reason why my specialist offered his services for free; he said he'd rather we spent the money on treatment instead of wasting it on his consultations.

On Wednesday, my doctor's appointment finally came around, and shock horror, she was even on time! I asked her for the referral, but she said she couldn't refer me back to the specialist because the specialist's last letter didn't say I needed to see him! She could refer me to the rheumatologist he wants me to see next, but she can't refer me to him. I had to explain the situation a few times, but she wasn't having any of it. I wanted to bang my head against a brick wall. Seeing a private doctor on the NHS can be a pain in the arse at times; it's hard for some people to get their head around it. She said she'd phone his secretary to find out if I need to see him and get back to me by the end of the week, but that never happened. I never got a phone call. This is why I leave every NHS appointment wanting to tear my hair out. Nothing ever gets done.

Six weeks have passed since the letter landed on the door mat, and I still don't have any real answers or even an appointment with my doctor.

My parents now just want me to make a private appointment to see him, to get it over and done with. They think too much time has passed already. The last appointment I had at the hospital was in February. I've been trying to refuse, because I don't want to waste their money, but they're refusing my refusal, so I think I don't really have a choice. I'll probably end up going for a private appointment soon. They're off on holiday on Monday, so it's buying me a little time.

I personally don't mind waiting, because I don't think the diagnosis is going to really change anything for me. Even having a full diagnosis, I'm pretty sure I'm still going to have the pain and other symptoms every day, along with all of my other daily challenges. I know it'll be easier mentally and emotionally knowing the whole picture, but I doubt my life will change physically from day to day; at least not to begin with.

Nothing has been confirmed officially, but the GP I saw this week does seem to think I have rheumatoid arthritis. It didn't say so in black and white on screen, but she was confident by what she read. (Which is interesting since my usual GP told me my results were negative!) It's actually been my number one guess since I got the letter telling me I have an inflammatory condition. I can relate to what I've read about it, and it makes a lot of sense- particularly since I've already had some arthritis found in my lower spine. I guess I'll know for sure before too long, and if I have got it, hopefully I'll be able to find out if it's causing any of the pain, and if anything can be done to make me more comfortable. But, one step at a time...

I don't want to self-diagnose or jump the gun before I know for sure; it won't do me any favours.

I'll be sure to keep you all posted as it all unfolds! I'm sure I'll have my answers in the next couple of weeks, and when I do I'll write another update.

I just wanted to end this post by saying a big 'thank you' to everybody who read and left such lovely messages of support on my last personal post. Your messages really meant a lot to me, and I'm still so touched that you took the time to write them. I really do have the best readers and blog friends! 

Thanks for reading, and thanks for continuing to tolerate my boring rambles! I promise tomorrow's post will be far more exciting.