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Archive for the ‘Depression’ Category

#TimegoesBy #LifeLesson

Golden Sorceress, Golden Dragon

 

“Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says I’ll try again tomorrow.” –Mary Anne Radmacher

It was never my intention to stop writing. Yet time rolls by like a river, never stopping and sometimes sweeping all in its path. Whether by intention or design I have been absent and I cannot say that I have been overwhelmed by vastly important things.

Each day I lament that another day has passed and no word had been placed on paper, no post scheduled, nothing mapped out for future comment. Simply the majestic revolution of the earth and the passing of time as it always has since the earth began. Each day I would ask myself “Why?” I would ask my Guides, “Why?” Silence was my reply.

Life continued. This beaten up hulk simply shrunk further into herself, asking the same questions…. “Why am I here?” “What is my purpose?” “What am I supposed to do?” I also asked myself if I was failing or was this meant to be. Apparent silence was my answer. Yet the need to communicate was still there, I simply lost faith in myself that I have anything to say which anyone would find interesting.

I learned that even if no-one else found my words interesting, it was important that I put them “out there”, for my benefit if for no-one else. After all, I had begun my blog, not with the intention of garnering a large audience, not even if anyone else was going to listen to what I said, and so I tried to gather my courage from the far reaches and start once more.

#TimeGoesBy, #LifeLessons

soulevolutioncenter.com.

“Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day. You shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Since it is important, I need to answer a simple question – Why did I stop writing at all? It wasn’t simply that I lost faith in myself as a writer, or that people didn’t want to hear what I had to say. It was, in fact, the belief that I was somehow a fraud. Why should that make a difference for after all, writers make up their stories for a multitude of reasons? They receive critical comments which may be soul destroying yet they continue because they believe in themselves.

Told I was lost in my “victimhood” and people were bored with the story, the negativity and complaints had to stop. I was devastated. Victimhood? How had that come up? It hadn’t I believe, and yet the comment was true. I was and am a victim and the comment, true though it was, hurt more than I had been prepared to hear. I was blindsided by it. I knew, deep inside that I was drowning in my life and internally complained about my lack of growth towards a better future. Only two people were aware of these facts, and only one made this statement.

Like most when faced with such a needlessly cruel attack at the time and place this occurred, I needed the question answered. Who said these things and how could they know what had occurred?

The bald truth! I had been an abused wife and stupidly had failed to recognise it like so many others. Yes, I’d spoken with professionals and remained as lost as I had before I’d spoken with them. Friends? I had none and even now I have only a small few. Trust is a hard commodity to offer. It’s true, it leaves you negative and perhaps, deep down, a complainer, yet I hoped, believed, I kept it locked away. I know I didn’t talk about it since I find it shameful and embarrassing.

Perhaps worst of all, this lightning bolt of understanding occurred at a time when I was struggling with the death of my mother. Even she had been told only bare brushstrokes of the circumstances, which still leave me feeling ill and ashamed.

 #TimeGoesBy, #LifeLessons

“You are not a victim. No matter what you have been through, you’re still here. You may have been challenged, hurt, betrayed, beaten, and discouraged, but nothing has defeated you. You are still here! You have been delayed but not denied. You are not a victim, you are a victor. You have a history of victory.”
Steve Maraboli, Unapologetically You: Reflections on Life and the Human Experience

I would appreciate the opportunity to know and understand where the criticism came from. I would be grateful for the understanding of how to move through this to a happier place, untroubled by these thoughts. Yet, there is one further aspect to this “victimhood” which I have kept hidden.

The one person I expected to protect me, let me down. I went from being a self-sustained person with sufficient means to ensure a comfortable life to someone who has to fear losing my home, at any moment. The small amount of money I had in a Superannuation account, which was not to be “violated” is bleeding.

I feel trapped and alone. I feel as if I’ve been duped and conned and I have no-one to talk to. There is no easy exit. Can I create a new life of some kind? I am so tired, so despairing of making yet another mistake that I am frozen in place. This is where I’d prayed my Guide would help me to learn and grow. The pain of that one sentence reverberates daily.

Look to the future…..that is so difficult.

If “you” do read my words, I pray that you have the time and grace to let me know exactly where I “went wrong” at that time. How do I put all this behind me and move forward – alone – since I no longer feel that I can ask for your help? I trusted you. You gave me an unbelievable gift. You failed to see it but I was so overwhelmingly grateful that my paltry words and gestures of thanks went unnoticed.

#TimeGoesBy, #LifeLessons

“You have been there” which is why you understand. I wonder if you had someone to help you get through it? Family? Sisters, father, mother? I have none. No-one!

I’ve listened. As a “wake up call” it was like a fishwife gutting the catch. Clinically efficient. Yet still I read your posts first each day. Rubbing more salt into a raw wound. Yes, I pray, I meditate and ask for guidance. I also ask for a Mentor to offer to guide me through this so that I can take my place in the world. The place I know I own and belong in. You taught me that.

In the immortal words of David Bowie (Labyrinth), “Life can be so cruel, just as I can be so cruel.”

As always I shall admire you for all you have been through, and wish that you could be the Mentor I was supposed to find. Until then I will do the best I can do. Is that not what we are asked for? Being the best version of ourselves that we can?

#TimeGoesBy, #LifeLessons
colourful bejewelled dragons  

 “There are times in my life when I have been medicine for some while poison for others. I used to think I was a victim of my story until I realized the truth; that I am the creator of my story. I choose what type of person I will be and what type of impact I will leave on others. I will never choose the destructive path of self and outward victimization again.”

Steve Maraboli, Unapologetically You: Reflections on Life and the Human Experience

This is the first day of the rest of my life. Let’s see how it all plays out.

Blessings, Susan. ♥

© Susan Jamieson, 2015

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#TakenBySurprise

Reflections of life

 “It was one thing to make a mistake; it was another thing to keep making it. I knew what happened when you let yourself get close to someone, when you started to believe they loved you: you’d be disappointed. Depend on someone, and you might as well admit you’re going to be crushed, because when you really needed them, they wouldn’t be there. Either that, or you’d confide in them and you added to their problems. All you ever really had was yourself, and that sort of sucked if you were less than reliable.”
Jodi Picoult, Handle with Care

Its been one of those strange periods, when you know there is something coming, something unpleasant and you would do anything to avoid it if you could….. but in the end you can’t. It rears up and engulfs you and try though you may you can only try to keep some kind of footing. Some balance as everything turns you on your head.

All month I’ve said “It’s the lunar eclipse”, “It’s the partial solar eclipse”, “It’s just the sun flares”,  and finally “It was just all the above and the planetary alignment and once October was over everything should settle back to normal. Whatever normal happens to be.” I was hoping that would be the case.

Yes, I was right and yet October isn’t quite over yet. More unexpected and unpleasant news on the health front which totally blew me away. Like so many other people I’d been caught out having a “minor episode” and my heart was showing all the signs of the problem which I’d put down to stress. It’s wonderful what stress can get up to.  Yet I’m here and when I get my head around everything I’ll hopefully be back on that even keel and have my scattered wits flowing again. Just not at the moment. I need to find a stable point and be able to hold on until the world stops turning so quickly.

The only thing which has taken me by surprise, is the feeling of being let down, abandoned, by the one person I expected to understand that I was rocked to the core by this news and I thought they would cut me just a little slack. Perhaps I expected too much. It’s been a rough ride this past year and a half, but not all of it was due to my health. I’ve been riding that wave too.

I know I’ve been unpredictable for a week or so. I also know I could have handled this better. It’s not an excuse, but losing both Mum and Dad and then my dance with illness and Chronic Pain…. I simply wasn’t prepared for anything else. My bad!

So, at present I’m feeling as though I’ve been betrayed by someone I least expected it from. I didn’t need that on top of everything else. Silly of me to think it would make any difference.  Life goes on or it doesn’t. In the grand scheme of things I’m unsure if I’d be really missed if I did ‘go’. I know that’s self-pity talking and I’ll ignore it shortly.

I’m really tired and can’t seem to relax or rest. I suppose my mind is just reeling. My meditation is helping but I don’t expect miracles in a short time…. it simply has never worked out that way. I’m getting better, but I suppose I’m a slow learner. I need to let it all out… you know, have a good cry but that’s one thing I have the most trouble with. Letting go and letting my vulnerability be seen.

For good or ill, I’m done today and this is going out as it is. This makes the first time I’ve done this….. I always sit on my post for a few hours and let the ideas settle, but I think I might be able to catch a few z’s. Maybe.

I’m sorry I wasn’t stronger. I’m sorry I let you down by being  human, weak and needing support. I guess I’m not as hard and unfeeling as I thought I was. Perhaps tomorrow you’ll understand that there’s only so much a person can take before something has to give… or break.

So I’ll take my “broken heart” and hide away for a while. Heaven knows you may feel better if I’m out of the way.

#TakenBySurprise

Sunrise, chasing away the darkness

Blessings, Susan ♥

© Susan Jamieson, 2014

To image from Facebook.com

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This world of mine

Has somehow lost its shine

Why I ask

Does it have to be this way

Why does everyone I love have to turn away

Why do they leave til I’m all alone

With a heart so heavy it finds it hard to beat

It shouldn’t be such a mighty feat

My eyes are hurting from unshed tears

Holding tight to all my fears

The pain of it all held deep inside

Is there somewhere safe for me to hide

Why, oh why does it have to be this way

Can I wake up tomorrow to a bright new day

No more hurt or pain nor loneliness

No longer waiting for the blame

A new hurting game

No need to hold my breath

Wondering if this is the final death

Will it always be that way

The sun shines at the start of each new day

It just forgets to light up my way

#thisworld

image from sugaree33-art.deviantart.com

If I screamed to the heavens would they hear me

Would they answer if I cried loudly enough

Has my breaking heart not borne enough

Can they not hear me

Have I paid my way to a peaceful love

Safe from all the hurt and pain

Freed from endless games of shame

The hand that is held out

Is not the hand to hurt

The smile on a face

Doesn’t hide lies like a mill race

Rushing down to sweep me away

A hand to hold the heart with love

A smile that glows with truth from heaven above

How long now until it’s my turn to smile

How long til I hear my loved ones sigh

Is this to be my life

#thisworld

image from housechurchesuk.weebly.com

 

The answer!

Blessings, Susan ♥

© Susan Jamieson 2014

 

 

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“I did the only thing I knew how to do: I built my own walls of silence to disguise my desperation and what later came to be recognized and diagnosed as depression.”
Sharon E. Rainey, Making a Pearl from the Grit of Life

A strange thing happens when I sit or recline to write. Either I’m eager as a beaver because I feel I have a stunner of an idea, I sit and look at a blank screen and finally something surfaces like a safety line thrown to a drowning person, or I languish forlornly staring at the accusing emptiness and suddenly words will flow and something is on the page. Ideas like bubbles blowing in the breeze wash over me in a magical haze and words appear in front of me.

Amazingly, the latter are the best of all, so I need to tap into my well spring of creativity or, do more prep work because I love writing and love seeing the finished item as I hit that publish button. I was told many months ago that writing for the acclaim of others was a waste of time. If I didn’t like writing for myself it was a lost cause and I should simply stop right then. Incredible as it sounds, that advice was true then and is still true now.

Having said that, it certainly is wonderful having people enjoy what I write and comments are always appreciated because they give me a chance to learn more, about myself and this craft of writing. Yet this is not what I wanted to talk about.

I am a terrible ‘patient’. Terrible doesn’t cover it. Abysmal is closer to it really. I hate the whole illness, can’t do things, must take pills by schedule, do this, do that, everything ordered by someone other than myself. This is not independence. I am, or rather was a fiercely independent person. No – I still am. I haven’t changed, I simply have had to accommodate some changes that irritate but I have to accept as a necessary evil! Temporarily!

For three days I’ve been incredibly emotional after a unpleasant , horrific dream. Even though it turns out the dream is not as bad as it felt, it left me emotional. I hate emotional. It is a loss of control, it is an undermining of the little independence I have left and it leaves me tired, in pain, unimaginably so, and with a burning desire to do something, anything to make me feel, even for a short time that I am ‘normal’ once more.

#Desperate Measures

Ocean Shores 4.30am

Normal, what a stupid word to use. What is normal? Well, for me it is being able to do what I want, when I want without needing any assistance, even that given freely and with love. Independence. It is a heady draught and having it taken away is dis-empowering. Yes, everything revolves around empowering ourselves. Illness removes that empowerment in the cruelest way.

So, after another sleepless night and emotional day before it, I lashed out. I secreted my clothes and sand shoes in the laundry before ‘officially’ going to bed. At 4am I decided my husband was deeply enough asleep I could afford to get up. He is used to me getting up and down during the night now anyway. Quick trip to the bathroom and a little makeup, just in case someone should see me and I crept out to the laundry where a light wouldn’t disturb anyone.

Yes, I sneaked out of the house like a teenager breaking curfew! I even had the forethought to grab a water bottle and my phone. I haven’t walked to the beach where I live and I’ve been here a year. I haven’t sat on the beach and seen the sunrise (at the beach) for a year either. I used to do both regularly when I was alone, independent, before I was engaged or married. I was like a drunken sailor, or a drugged up lunatic, weaving and staggering down this hill. I thought the beach was at the bottom of the road. A kilometre later I reached the sandy access to the beach.

All I could hear was the pounding of the waves. I wished I’d brought my camera but I don’t think I would have made it to the beach if I had. My whole body trembled from the exertion and I staggered down onto the hard sand to sit down. Thankfully seeing someone staggering in the soft sand doesn’t raise eyebrows. I was there and I wasn’t going to be able to move. But I was THERE!

#Desperate Measures

Sunrise at Ocean Shores Beach 5am

I watched the sun rise above the horizon and the clouds.

It was beautiful. It wasn’t hot – I can’t take the heat and the meds had made me burn easily. I could feel the calm wash over me with every wave breaking along the shore line and the rays of the sun peeking over the horizon.  I hadn’t known it was a dog beach. A dog. OMG – how much I want a puppy, a miniature fox terrier and all my own. It’s like an ache, never ending. The dogs began appearing with their owners and I was truly happy when they came over to say hello. To pat them, scratch behind their ears and look into those kindly brown eyes, was blissful. Strange how little it can take.

My photos are grainy – even the lauded iPhone can only do so much. But I will be returning with my camera,and soon. By 7am I was beginning to feel more than a little uncomfortable. Couldn’t move my legs properly and turning around brought a sharp twinge.  A few more canine cuddles and I knew I couldn’t wait, it was time to start the trek UP the hill to get home.  The sun was now a blazing ball in the sky but it was still cool.

#Desperate Measures

Sunrise Ocean Shores 6am

I hit my first hurdle. I couldn’t stand up, couldn’t twist around and couldn’t bend my legs enough to kneel up.  Just a little problem. Soft sand….. I finally managed to flop around like a beached whale until I I got one knee pulled under me enough to lever myself onto hands and knees. Humpf!  This is what emotional independence gets you. Somehow I made it upright only to fall flat on my face – almost, hands and knees again. After my third staggering attempt and fall someone noticed it wasn’t quite normal and offered to help.

Help! I had to acknowledge I needed help to get up that soft sandy dune and she was a nice and concerned lady. So we managed to get to the seat at the edge of the dune so she could stretch after her walk and I could regroup after hiking up the sand dune! I was determined to walk up that darned hill. I stood up and walked to the footpath with my new found friend. My body, not one part of it, wanted any part of moving in a co-ordinated fashion. I staggered like a drunken sailor with palsy until I finally reneged on my independence and accepted a lift to the top of the hill.   So much for being independent.  After showering and changing I’ve been sequestered in bed, complaining body reminding me of my foolhardy outing at every turn. Yet desperate circumstances require desperate measures to be taken.

#Desperate Measures

A mini foxie friend at Ocean Shores

I may have paid for my intemperate haste to be independent, but I have my doggie pics and a few hours of remembering what it felt like to be able to go where I wanted, when I wanted to with impunity. For a while I forgot I was this person with an illness. I was Susan all over again and it felt wonderful. One day, one day soon, I will be that person again… come hell or high water I will be.

Blessings, Susan x

© Susan Jamieson 2014

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#What's the Safety Word?

Image from footage.shutterstock.com –

“It is an absolute human certainty that no one can know his own beauty or perceive a sense of his own worth until it has been reflected back to him in the mirror of another loving, caring human being.”
John Joseph Powell, The Secret of Staying in Love

Everyone has heard about the ‘safety word’. The safety word is the serious-I-mean-it-now time-to-stop word. The word the ‘client’ arranges when he visits his S&M bondage person so he doesn’t accidentally get himself killed during the ‘play’.

What I wonder, is the safety word when you’ve had enough of the ‘merry go round’? I’m referring to that time when you feel you literally cannot face another minute of the hurt, the pain, the torment, the abuse, the depression, the………. (just fill in the blank).

It almost sounds like the beginning to a play or a movie script. The notes followed by the story board before shooting begins. Except it isn’t part of a fictitious film, instead it’s a serious and real part of life. Not the calculated gambles people want to take with their fetishes or fantasies. If something goes wrong there then you almost have to say – ‘they knew what they were getting themselves into.’ But what happens when life pushes you too far?

Talking to people is easy. For some reason I’ve been fortunate that people find it easy to talk to me. I’ve been told many things. I’ve been blessed by sharing the good news of a daughter’s engagement, a son’s engagement, marriages, the unhappier news of divorces, accidents, windfalls and tragedies. It may sound strange to include windfalls as part of the unhappier news, but for many people it hasn’t brought them the happiness they hoped for. Sometimes yes, but many times they have found themselves in a much worse place than they were before their good fortune.

Sometimes there simply are no words to express how you feel. Sometimes you need to rely on a hug or holding someone’s hand and send them strength because there is nothing you can say or do to change things. Having to tell someone their child, husband or wife is dead is one of those times. Words just aren’t made to let people understand you feel their pain.

I had many talks with ‘Sharon’, a lovely lady who was always putting herself down. She simply couldn’t believe she was good at anything she did or that she was wanted or needed by anyone. Despite having a good job she was convinced she was stupid, since her husband continually told her she was. Even though she had two children she couldn’t persuade herself that there was any purpose to her being there. She convinced herself that they would be better off if she was no longer around.

Sharon took a bottle of pills and curled up waiting for the end to steal quietly over her. Her husband came home early and she was rushed to hospital. Unfortunately she didn’t get the help she needed and her unhappiness and feelings of low self-worth grew. Her husband helped her with that part. When she finally left him he embarked on a calculated plan to undermine her self-confidence and she found herself spiraling further down that dark hole.

She moved and I lost track of the family for a while. In trying to out run the influence of her ex-husband she isolated herself from everyone who knew her. She avoided anyone he knew and anywhere he was likely to go. There was nowhere for her to turn to. Her children moved out, as they do when they finally grow their wings and she fell into a deep depression. Depressed or not she still managed to work.

I met her again a short time ago. She often spoke to me of her struggle with ‘The Black Dog’, but being alone it was too difficult for her. She began trying to out run her problems. She would drive day and night when she was not working until she finally fell into a stupor to get some rest. But you can’t roll those dice for long before the stakes get too high. It’s almost like putting your hand in a basket of snakes and expecting not to get bitten.

Sharon told me she didn’t want to leave her children without some kind of support. She didn’t want them to be dependent on their father to “look after them”. Years later he still influenced how she thought and she didn’t trust him to do the right thing by his children. So her game of Russian roulette on the roads didn’t seem to make much sense on one hand, but knowing how her ex-husband had eroded her self-worth, it did.

It felt as though she was holding on by some tenuous thread and at times I wasn’t sure she really heard me. She did see a doctor and get medication, but it was going to be a long haul back.

Sharon died in a pile up on the motorway. She was on her way home from her mother’s funeral. A drunk driver had lost control and ploughed into the oncoming traffic. Her car was hit head on.

What was Sharon’s safety word?  I can’t help but wonder if she had a safety word.  Who could she have called out to, so that she could stop the merry go round? If she had a safety word when should she have used it?

Tell me, do you have a safety word?

#What's the Safety Word

image from s279.photobucket.com

Blessings, Susan x

© Susan Jamieson 2014

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“What you do, the way you think, makes you beautiful.” Scott Westerfeld, Uglies
#Medical Alphabet Soup

image from commons.wikimedia.org

That which God said to the rose,
and caused it to laugh in full-blown beauty,
He said to my heart,
and made it a hundred times more beautiful.
Rumi
Illness: the final frontier. These are the voyages of the Starship medical ship Disease. Its five-minute mission: to explore strange new names, to seek out new diseases and new acronyms, to boldly go where no few doctors have willingly gone before.

Some of you may have noticed that I have been “Missing in Action” for a few days.  I literally jumped onto WP and dropped in a few songs and jumped off. I haven’t been in a good place and I wasn’t sure I could get my brain cells to co-operate enough to write something which was going to come out coherently.  Well, here it is and something a little different, a rant with an edge.

I had to attend an appointment with my doctor. I’m reaching  have reached the point where I detest going and feel infuriated when I am returning home. It makes going there counterproductive. I have always had an inherent dislike for the labeling system, and not just within the medical fraternity. It is endemic in society.  Now, it isn’t enough to append labels to everyone, thereby dehumanising people by placing them in an arbitrary group for the benefit of…..who? The Government? It’s almost irrelevant if it wasn’t so invasive, but its aim is so that we are able to be “controlled” with greater ease.

Not content with being labelled and grouped we are now being reduced even further by being diagnosed as little more than a group of letters. Such as:-

ADD  and ADHD Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) is a disorder that appears in early childhood. You may know it by the name attention deficit disorder, or ADD. ADD/ADHD makes it difficult for people to inhibit their spontaneous responses—responses that can involve everything from movement to speech to attentiveness.

http://www.helpguide.org/mental/adhd_add_signs_symptoms.htm

The information I found basically made ADD and ADHD into one category. All the signs, symptoms and treatments appeared almost the same. They appear to simply transition adults with greater ease if they are placed in the ADHD basket.  By that I mean if a child is diagnosed as ADHD they move into adult ADHD, there appears to be a very small number of adults referred to as having ADD.

Bipolar Disorder Bipolar disorder is the name used to describe a set of ‘mood swing’ conditions, the most severe form of which used to be called ‘manic depression’.

http://www.blackdoginstitute.org.au/public/bipolardisorder/bipolardisorderexplained/ 

Bipolar is treated the same as any other ‘mental’ disorder. It appears that any depressive illness is graduated eventually towards Bipolar, a nice easy fit for the sake of treatment.

#Medical Alphabet Soup

image from theredpillnews.blogspot.com

ME/CFS – (Myalgic Encephalomyeltis/Chronic Fatigue Syndrome) suffer from post-exertional malaise (flu-like symptoms following activity). CFS is a neurological condition that can affect children and adults of any age. Other symptoms include pain, disrupted sleep, difficulty thinking, and changes in blood pressure, hormones and body temperature.

http://www.betterhealth.vic.gov.au/bhcv2/bhcarticles.nsf/pages/Chronic_fatigue_syndrome

FMS – FibromyalgiaFibromyalgia (Fibro) is a name given to a group of symptoms marked by generalised pain and muscle stiffness. These symptoms can be felt in all different areas of the body. Extreme fatigue (tiredness) and sleep problems are also common in fibromyalgia. Fibromyalgia does not cause inflammation or damage to the painful areas, but seems to be due to an over active pain system.

https://www.arthritisvic.org.au/Conditions-and-Symptoms/Fibromyalgia

These last two are cut from the same cloth. All that is being done is simple semantics being argued. Post exertional malaise is different from muscle soreness and stiffness? It wasn’t when I went to the gym. Tiredness and sleep problems are the same as disrupted sleep – within parameters. It is all another way of segregating people into nice little baskets and putting labels on them. But why?

This may seem like a gigantic waste of time, however, my point is that the medical “powers that be” are manipulating the terminology to describe various conditions for their own purposes. Purposes we are not made aware of.

Whilst one source will say that ME/CFS will occur often with Fibromyalgia, another source will declare that FMS and ME/CFS are totally separate ailments. Yet the descriptions themselves show overlaps. I’m not wishing to be contrary, however, I am trying to show that this is a veritable minefield when someone is trying to find out what is happening to them, and getting a diagnosis.

Many of those who have been visited by one of these delightful acronyms over the years, have battled for years to get a differential diagnosis from ONE doctor, let alone a consensus so we can get the best treatment possible. Most of the time we have to struggle on alone, trying to get someone to ‘admit’ there is ‘something’ wrong. Not only is it wrong, it is criminally wrong.

In my opinion, splitting each part of the symptomology into small groups and relabeling it slightly, is another way for “the powers that be’ to be able to say, a smaller percentage of the population is ‘suffering’ from this or that ailment.  Then the real fun begins as they hyperventilate over which medications can be given to which group of people to treat their specific symptoms. Is this a cost cutting exercise?

Why has this latest visit caused so much ire? As many will already know I was diagnosed with Lyme disease last year. It doesn’t exist in Australia, according to the ‘powers that be’ and that creates a bucket load of problems, not least being there are no doctors who have the authority, from the Medical Association, to treat you. Some of the symptoms for this delightful ailment are, ‘flu like’ symptoms. In its lesser aggressive state it can cause inflammation of the joints, especially the knees, (arthritis.) The heart can be affected, (heart failure), Bell’s palsy, meningitis and so on. The arthritis of Lyme disease can look like many other types of inflammatory arthritis and can become chronic. Anxiety and depression occur with an increased rate with people with Lyme disease.

But it doesn’t exist here so I don’t need to worry.  My GP does not recognise that Lyme exists in Australia and therefore I do not have it. I’m not doing terribly well and I need to understand what’s happening. After all, it is my body we are talking about.  I’m a good researcher. It’s what I do when something bugs me. I research and my results led me to Fibro. This has been going on for years. I’m listed as a ‘chronic pain’ sufferer. The ‘argument’ is that Chronic Pain is an accepted diagnosis so why do I need to find out if it is Fibro? Simple – I need to know so I can understand what I can do and where I can go to get help.

Under pressure – I was finally told, Yes, I have Fibro. Chronic Pain is Fibro. I cannot have an operation because my spine is Swiss cheese. I have had this for so long it has degenerated too much to do anything with it. Let’s have a Party!

#Medical Alphabet Soup

image from opencaremedicalcenter.com

So I now have a generalist who says I have Lyme disease: who isn’t allowed to treat me because the Australian Medical Board has restricted his license. Why – well it doesn’t exist here and he was stupid clever enough to make a ‘you tube’ video advertising his treatment of it. Smart move! I also have a Medical practitioner who says it doesn’t exist so he won’t treat me for it. I have Chronic Pain, or Fibro, or both, or ME/CFS.  And they wonder why people get depressed or anxious!

Sarcasm is the final stand for people who are being ignored or not listened to. I shouldn’t need to be as wealthy as Rockefeller to get good health care. I shouldn’t need to go to the UK or US to get medication. I shouldn’t have to wait an additional ten to fifteen years to get medication already approved and in use in those countries.

#Medical Alphabet Soup

image from http://www.label-makers.com.au –          Is this our future?

Reducing every ailment or disease to an acronym, for convenience, not only depersonalises the situation it also dehumanises those affected. We are not numbers, nor acronyms. We are not our disease or ailment, we are people and should be accorded the dignity that warrants.

I have one final theory – is this a concerted effort of ‘the powers that be’ to introduce eugenics in the population under the guise of ill-health? Now that is a scary thought.

“You can truly value life, when you have looked Death in the eyes and held its hand.”
Lionel Suggs

Blessings, Susan x

© Susan Jamieson 2014

#Medical Alphabet Soup

image from fineartamerica.com

Disclaimer: I am not a doctor and hold no medical qualification. All the descriptions used are taken from an Internet search and relevant bodies who advise on these conditions. All opinions stated are mine.

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#Betrayal

image from http://www.deviantart.com                          Howling for the soul sister to pass

Betrayal

The time drifted by slowly

There was nothing left

No way to measure the passage of time

Nothing but the slow drip, drip, drip

She let her head roll back

Resting lightly against the window frame

Outside she could see the moon

A blood moon, portent of bad tidings

The trees outside wailed their mournful sounds

And somewhere a wolf howled loudly

Joined quickly by the rest of the pack

Strange, but she had seen no wolves here

Not since she came so long ago

But it wasn’t that long surely

No, it only felt that way

But fitting somehow that they came now

Almost as if they could hear her coming

Drip, drip, drip -The only sound inside

The howling of the wolves outside

And an eerie feeling creeping over all

She was starting to feel cold

The mist curled from her open mouth

She should have brought a blanket

Made things much easier in the end

The cold climbed upwards

Through her arms and legs

Up from the cold floor, cold as the grave

Drip, drip, drip, the continuing sound

Fainter now the wolves were drawing nearer

Their howling more frenetic than ever

The moon climbed higher so she raised her head

Strange how heavy her head now felt

Drip, drip, drip, a cold wetness intruded on her reverie

The howling wolves must have been outside the window

Their howls so loud in her head now

As the icy cold reached her heart

She gave one slow sigh

The light dimming in her eyes

She could no longer see the moon

No longer hear the slowing drip, drip, drip

The only sound

The howling of the wolves

The dripping stopped,

The moon still rose

The wolves howled once more

A cry of pain and anguish

For a soul lost.

Alone in death

As she had been in life

Alone.

#Betrayal

image from http://www.smscs.com The pack gathers to welcome one home

Blessings  Susan x

© Susan Jamieson 2014

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