Tag Archives: sick

Pox

It finally got us.

Well, not us.  We are immune.  The adults I mean.  But it got the children.

She was spotty for the whole of last week but wasn’t too bothered by them.  They were worst in the nappy region.  They’re surprisingly few and mostly healed up.

He has the fever that arrives a day or two before the outbreak. 

OH has been at home looking after the sickly babies while I have been taking the easy route of going to work. 

We’re hoping O has them as mildly as she did.

Diseases and disorders

As part of my course I have to research various ailments.  They range from moles to heart failure and are often accompanied by quite graphic pictures. 

Not good if you’re squeamish.

Luckily, gore and guts don’t make me churn and I find the body fascinating so even though it’s a lot of info to take in, I’m quite enjoying it.

I came across a few disorders I was able to write about without refering to any books or the internet.

Anaemia – I’ve had this on and off for years so know what to look for.

Eating disorders – self-explanatory.  We won’t go there.

Depression and Seasonal Affected Disorder – both appear on my medical records.

Epilepsy – a result of recent events which have kept me awake at night looking at EEG results.

The flip side is that it has opened up a whole new world of dangerous self-diagnosis.  I’m now reading each symptom like a check list and have stacked up a whole list of other issues I may or may not have.

I’m not going to let it worry me though.  Stress is a major contributing factor to most of the illnesses.

I’ve got a good feeling…

On Thursday the 20th of October, I felt normal.  No unsettled tum, no panic.  Until then, I hadn’t realised just how ill I was feeling constantly.

I had two days of being able to get on with my life without having to worry about waves of nausea or groaning belly.  I ate what I wanted and filled my belly. (Belly filling was one of the causes of the nausea.)

But now my misery has returned.

I feel like there are stones in my stomach and I’m constantly on the verge of hot sweats. My tummy and bowel groan and I go from zero to hungry to sick within half an hour.

I thought it was anxiety.

We tested for pregnancy, just to make sure.  Negative.

Now I’m pretty sure there is something physiological going on as well as psychological. We’ve done a spot of research and the most likely causes are hormones and food intolerance.

Maybe this thing would be easier to deal with if I could just cut out milk for example and feel ok?  Problem is that it comes and goes so it would be hard to tell exactly what works.

Can’t I just have normal back?

Feeling flat

Today I feel awful which means I’m going to whinge and whine, so if you’re sick of it, don’t read on.  I’m still gonna write it.

My head still feels a little strange from yesterday, but my stomach hasn’t protested too much over breakfast so I’m hoping I’ve seen the back of that bit.

I’m having a low day.  All over missing class last night.  I feel like I let them down and let myself down and will now be playing catch up.  I wish I could have made it to half term.  I keep thinking that all last night proves is that I’ve bitten off way more than I can chew and wasted a lot of time and money in the process.

I feel like something has got to give and last night it did.  So today I’m back to looking for a new childcare solution for a return to work.  At least it would be a constant income and I would have an excuse for the house being covered with a thick layer of crap.

I wish I didn’t have hairbrained schemes.

*goes back to bed in the hope things look better after some sleep*

Why things aren’t so bad

I feel like a bit of a fraud to be honest.  I spend a lot of my time thinking about how I personally, in my soon-to-be business and day-to-day life as a mother can help other women in the midst of PND.

I wanted to be strong, and living proof that you can come through it and be happy and a good mum and…I’m just not.

I really dislike posting melodramatic negative stuff because my future is actually full of really positive things, which I believe will help me to deal with the not so great stuff.  So it pains me to be constantly whining and melancholy here.

Because in all honesty, my life isn’t that bad at all.  I have two kids who are both bright and healthy and mostly happyish.  I have a loving, sex-starved partner.  Both sets of parents are super supportive and I have aunties and uncles and a brother who would do anything they could to help.  I have Mummies on tap 247 who can offer advice or virtual hugs and support and a lodger who loves my children.

I have a job.  Even though I hate said job, I have a job to go back to while I retrain.  I have a house.  It’s a nice house, a big, comfy house. I love my house.

I have a car and I have the ability to drive it anywhere…

So why am I still feeling tired and sick and anxious and stressed? I don’t feel like I have PND. It’s not dark here.  It’s slightly hopeless, and I’m scared, but I don’t hate myself or want to cut or feel tortured.  I’m not in a hole.  I don’t want to constantly run far far away.

But how can I help to heal others when I haven’t even manage to heal myself?  How can I help while I too am ailing?

 

The price of stress

I’m paying for it.

I’m literally falling to pieces at the moment.

I can’t say I was suffering from depression (although my outlook is as bleak), or any other physical ailment (although I’m exhibiting symptoms of many ills.

So far this week, I’ve had a panic attack which caused three hours of sever nausea and OH’s mother to worry that there was something wrong with her cooking (I still feel bad about this), my OH has taken no end of me shouting at him because he’s still the sam and my tolerance for his “same-ness” is even less than normal, and then today I feel like I have been beaten round the head, taken a few punches to the face and had all my limbs broken.

Ok, I exaggerate, but I am struggling to keep my eyes open.  Moving actually hurts.  I do feel like someone has taken a vacuum and just sucked everything out of my head apart from a big red ball filled with all the things going wrong at the moment.  In the process, they seemed to have removed my capacity to eat without feeling sick and to provide the rest of my body with the energy necessary to run around after two small children.

I have no idea how I will be coping this week.

I’ll start with regular doses of caffeine, painkillers and chocolate and see how I get on.

Panic attacks

So, we’re back to this again are we?

I grew up having panic attacks where I would feel extreme nausea.  Mostly when going out to eat (caused by a poor relationship with food) but also during exams, concerts, performances, classroom sessions at work..

I never wrote about it because I thought it was weird and freaky and that people would laugh at the skinny girl who didn’t want to eat, then poke fun at my strange food relationship and cause me a lot more distress!

I controlled the attacks pretty well. I would sit down to eat, will an attack on and then fight it off by eating little mouthfuls or scratching my hand or just talking.  Then I would be fine, knowing I was in control.

When I fell pregnant with the Toddler, the attacks stopped completely. I ate. All the time. Everywhere. The freedom was exhilarating.

It lasted a short while afterwards then they returned and I retrained myself in controlling them.

Sadly, when I was pregnant with O I was ill with stomach bugs twice. And his feet were resting on my stomach for the majority of the 3rd trimester making me nauseous all the time.  Instead of normalising the feeling to a background level, it has bought the attacks on worse.  Now I worry when I feel sick that I won’t be able to control it because I’ve actually got a bug and I’m going to spend the next 12 hours with my head in the toilet bowl while simultaneously shitting myself. Lovely, I know.

On Wednesday we went to OH mums for dinner. I’d spent the last few days feeling dodgy – caused by the current stress of everything I’m guessing.  I ate dinner. All of it. Drank tea…then for the next few hours felt sick and ended up with my head down the pan rubbing my belly.  Hearing either of the kids cry made it worse. Thinking about the drive home made it worse.  Thinking about bed time routines made it worse. OH ended up loading the kids in the car and driving them round the block in an attempt to get O to calm down…and knowing he wasn’t in the house made it worse…EVEN THOUGH HIS MOTHER SAW ME IN ACTIVE LABOUR!!!

Now I’m back to square 1.  I think it might be time to go to the Drs.