Tag Archives: illness

2017 – My Year of Getting Kicked


I have been struggling to write my usual end of year review post. This year has been a harsh one but I don’t want my post to be all doom and gloom. I’m trying my best to stay in a fact-based mind set so I can recap with some distance. The year was far too emotional to write about any other way. Distance isn’t easily obtained for me at the moment as I am still reeling from all the BS I’ve dealt with over the past 12 months. Yes it is all past but some of the crap 2017 sent to me has to still be dealt with and so it’s not gone.

The year began with me in low spirits. I didn’t have a roadworthy car so struggled to get out. This affected my therapy sessions as I fund it hard to get there without undue stress, anxiety and panic attacks. Quite early in the year, these sessions abruptly came to and end. It kind of blindsided me and left me feeling abandoned.

Car trouble was a theme of the first half of the year. I bought another one but within 2 weeks it became apparent that the seller had lied to me. It was going to cost far too much money (that I didn’t have) to fix it. I felt such a fool. I was then stuck with 2 cars that weren’t driveable and still stuck in the house.

Then I got ill. Very ill. I thought it was a bug and ignored it for weeks. It came to a point where I knew I needed help. I was at home alone (as usual) thinking I didn’t need to go to hospital. I called NHS advice line. They sent an ambulance as I argued I didn’t need one. The EMTs turned up. They insisted I go to hospital. I’m not that ill I kept saying. I was that ill.  I spent a week in hospital and many weeks at home recovering. I say weeks but I do believe it really took much longer before I was fully healed.

In the spring, I was assigned a care coordinator and a support worker from the community mental health team. This was to help me get out of the house and engaged in activities where I might meet new people and thus improve my mental health. It hasn’t really worked out that way. Life has been throwing too much crap at me and instead of working on “me”, we have been forced to cope with all the rubbish. Two different benefit assessments, countless weeks of exhaustion, anxiety, panic and depression that all stemmed from these two appointments. Followed by a final harsh kick in December when I discovered that I have lost another £246 per calendar month in benefits despite my conditions worsening. FU DWP! From December 2016 to December 2017, I’ve lost in total about £1,000 per month in income. Who the hell can take that kind of hit to their income??

Despite all this, I tried. I tried to go out and do things. I tried to meet new people and make new friends. I tried to take back some control of my life. I tried (very, very hard) to stay out of the Black Void. I was not very successful. Much of this year has been marred by depression, loneliness and anxiety. My overall mental health has declined as each attempt was made and failed. I have become more withdrawn and despondent. The future continues to look very beak to me. Years of constant assessments, financial worries, instability and nothing good to look forward to.

Yes this is a rather glum post but this year has really knocked the stuffing out of me. I feel battered by the assaults and enslaved by circumstances that I do not (at present) have the power to change. Remember, I tried.

For one, I tried doing a volunteer gardening programme. I love gardening and thought it would be ideal for me. It wasn’t. I felt foreign there amongst the people. People who were rude enough to ask “what mental health illness do you have?”. I didn’t really know how to cope with being asked such a question. After being asked that on two separate occasions, I’d had enough. The benefits did not outweigh the negatives.

I tried to get back into Shamanic drumming. I went quite a few times in the summer (after I’d gotten one of the cars repaired) and even bought my own drum. It was good but I think I overdid it. I went to too many events in one week and got overwhelmed. I tried to pace myself after that but it all sort of fizzled out for me.

I attended a few events in the summer and a couple in the fall. Most of them were good but left me drained afterwards and I had to spend a few days recovering. I had braved going to one event on my own by taking the bus as I didn’t want to be stressed about parking in the city center. It was great at first but that good feeling didn’t last. After trying my best avoid it, I was forced to speak to my ex. I didn’t want to but I can’t ignore people that speak directly to me – just not how I was raised. After that I saw 2 further people who I had no desire to acknowledge so I went home. Some might say I gave in but it was the better option for me at the time.

There have been some good times. Despite all this negativity, I won’t let it ruin the fun I have had and the moments I’ve shared with friends. My highlight of the year has to be being brave enough to go to London with the lovely Arianna to see the sexiest Ant to ever exist …


At 63 years old, this man seems timeless. He is physically fit, vocals are perfect, high energy and to watch him live you really wouldn’t think he was more than 40 at the most! The band was ablaze, the walls vibrating and I was in ecstasy. Physically I paid for it for several days after but it was more than worth it. I didn’t want the night to end.

As mentioned, yet another walloping came from the DWP in December without warning. They cut my PIP benefit by £246 per month. A week before Xmas. I totally lost the plot. I went into crisis. I reached out to my support worker. He had to go to a meeting. I told him that I didn’t want to be here anymore (as in I didn’t want to exist). He rushed off to his meeting. He later apologised but for me the damage had been done. I had been sat staring at a blade as I spoke to him. Sat fighting all the immense desires to pick it up and cut. I think shock at being dismissed so casually is all that prevented me from giving in to the urges. Knowing I would be alone most of the holiday periods and that I would be changing medication during that time, he arranged for others to visit in his place – they call it “shared care”. I reiterated my anxieties over answering unknown calls so he agreed they would come to my house on set dates to be arranged.

On Friday 22nd, Chris visited and we made a plan on when I would be visited. The next two visits went fine. Then New Year’s Eve hit. I’d gotten upset in the morning and battled to just hold on until someone turned up. They didn’t. After 6pm, I rang the out-of-hours number. The man I spoke to apologised profusely but couldn’t explain why I’d had no contact. He made a note for someone to visit the following day. New Year’s Day. No one showed. No one attempted to even call. Again. Wednesday 3rd January, I texted Mark, my support worker to let him know the state I was in (I lost the battle with the blade) and what had happened. He replied he’d have them contact me – he’s off ill. Not that the guy can’t get sick but again his tone and words left me feeling fobbed off. No one has come. Still. No shared care visit or call. My “Care Coordinator” hasn’t even bothered to check on me. This has all lead to further depression, anger and isolation. If the people who get paid to pretend they care about you don’t bother then how can one even consider the possibility that others might/do. Trust has gone out of the window as far as the mental health team goes and it’s left me feeling in limbo. And I am stuck here. If I don’t carry on working with them then I have no help at all. This country’s mental health care leaves a lot to be desired.

Although it is now 2018, I view this as all part of last year. It has carried over. So much for cutting ties with 2017. I am being forced by circumstances beyond my control to bring too much rubbish into the new year. If nothing else, I must battled the DWP to restore my benefit monies. These things that, yes I have a choice on how I react and perceive them still have to be dealt with  in order for me to survive. Survival seems to be my word for the last who knows how many years and I am quite fed up with it. I am tired of just existing but no matter what I try, I can’t seem to break free. Perhaps this will be the year that I do. I must carry on clutching at any meagre straw of hope as I have done for several years lest I sink into total oblivion.

Goodbye and good riddance 2017 – I shall not shed a tear for you.


Psaryce x

A Week In Hospital


A few weeks ago I become ill. I felt nauseous, had lots of wind and wasn’t able to eat properly. I became worse the 2nd week. I couldn’t eat anything. I kept throwing everything up. I stopped eating. I only drank water for 4 days. My blood sugars were sky high despite taking loads of insulin. I thought it was a bug so didn’t want to waste my GP’s time by making an appointment. I thought it would just pass naturally.

Then one Friday I thought I felt better. That supported my idea that it was just a bug and was passing. Hence I was right not to bother my GP. I ate some jello. That seemed to be okay so 2 hours later I had a bowl of strained chicken broth. The UK version is not what I call chicken broth. The stuff here is thick and has vegetables in it (hence I strained it). It wasn’t nice. I didn’t like it at all. 2 hours later and I was throwing up again.

In the wee hours of Saturday morning, I had a big hypo (hypoglycemic) attack. I woke and found my sheets soaked with sweat. I was shaking and dizzy. I felt so weak. I knew I had to get out of the bed since it was so damp and change my pyjamas. I was alone in the house so couldn’t ask for any help. I somehow managed it all the while feeling like I was about to pass out. I slid my way downstairs to the couch so I could rest there. I waited a bit until I could see properly (my vision was blurry by this time) then I tested my blood sugar levels. 3.7 – far too low.

Again not wanting to waste anyone’s time, instead of calling 999, I dialled 111 to ask for advice from the NHS helpline. After explaining everything I was going through, they called an ambulance to come out to me. I thought it wasn’t necessary but now didn’t have a choice really – they’d already called one to come. In the meantime I had to stumble to the kitchen and eat sugar from the jar – absolutely disgusting! – to try and get my levels up.

When they arrived, they took my blood sugar levels and blood pressure. I have a naturally low blood pressure (90/60 -ish) but they didn’t like it. Also I couldn’t gag enough sugar to get my sugars up to a safe level. So they decided I needed to go to hospital. I didn’t like the idea. I thought it would be a few hours and was worried about how I would get back home.

The ride itself was cold and noisy. The whole ambulance seemed to tremble with each little bump in the road. The “bed” was very uncomfortable and during the ride I became scared of what was going to happen. Yet still I didn’t believe it was that serious.

At the hospital, I began to feel worse. I was exhausted. They took blood tests. They took my temperature – using a weird gun shaped gizmo they shone a purple light on you. They moved me from 1 place to another. I was admitted! I was shocked by that. I still didn’t believe I was that ill. They eventually put me on an IV. They called it a sliding scale for insulin. I had 2 tubes going into the one cannula – 1 for insulin and 1 for glucose (sugar).

Pin cushion!

Left arm – They decided to moved the cannula near my elbow but didn’t take it out straight away!

They brought me food. I ate it (cottage pie) and although I didn’t particularly care for the taste, it was okay. Later they brought me more food (a jacket potato) and I ate that. It was okay too – just a bit on the warm rather than hot side. I was in a room with 3 other women. One was an elderly Scottish woman. She was extremely lonely. She tried to talk to everyone who passed by. She called for the nurse and the HCA (health care assistant) just to talk to someone. She didn’t understand they had other patients to care for. Her son turned up and I heard her saying how lonely she was. She also asked why should she go to a home when she has family? It was so sad and heartbreaking. But I was too ill to be as sympathetic as I could have been. I was waiting for my daughter to visit and overheard the lady talking about me. She said “She’s waiting for someone to come”. I was chilly and put on my dressing gown. She said “She’s going out for a fag”. I lost my patience and swung the curtain far enough closed that she couldn’t see me anymore. I then shamefully stomped out and said “Actually I was waiting for the toilet to be free” and went to the toilet dragging my IV pole with me.

Eventually, my daughter did arrive and brought me things from home I would need. She also bought me a book to read. Her boyfriend complained that she took ages picking it out. It was called The Secrets of Wishtide – A Laetitia Rodd Mystery by Kate Saunders and I thoroughly enjoyed reading it throughout my stay and at home.

Later on, about 8.30pm, the elderly lady began complaining about every little noise. Someone was pushing a noisy cart down the hall and she shouted “Who’s making all that noise?!” Then another sound and she shouted “I’m trying to sleep”. She called the nurse again and complained then asked why the lights weren’t off – she wanted them all off – even the ones above the nurse’s station outside our room. I had been dosing all day so wasn’t really sleepy. I turned my little light on and started reading the book. My vision was still a bit blurry so it was difficult but I managed a few pages before I felt tired again.

Next thing I know, I’m being moved to another ward. WooHoo! No more of the annoying woman. As soon as I arrived, I began throwing up the 2 meals I’d had earlier. Not a good way to make an impression but I couldn’t help it. I was in that ward for 2 days. Most of it is a blurr. I was told I had an infection but they didn’t know where. They started me on an antibiotic via the cannula. They were also coming to test my blood sugars every hour. So I dosed in between those as best I could.

One doctor decided I was dehydrated so she put another IV in my other arm for saline. I was now really hooked up.

Pin cushion!

Right arm – saline for dehydration

It was in the middle of the night so she used my bed lamp to see by. The rest of the room was dark. It was an odd experience.  I was still able to walk (just about) to the toilet and back but every time I did, the IV machine screeched at me until I got back to bed and plugged it back in. I nearly passed out one time trying to go and get back to bed. I literally flopped onto it.

Once a nurse came to help me wash. I fell in love with Hibiscrub – it was the smell that got me. The nurse washed my back and it felt so good. She was firm but not rough and I felt like a little girl being pampered. She left the rest for me to do which I was totally okay with.

Then one doctor seemed to finally listen to what I had been saying and diagnosed a gastric problem. I was started on more meds (for my stomach issues) and felt better (mentally) that things were finally on the right track. However, my haemoglobin level had dropped from 100 to 70 (should be at least 120). That worried them as I hadn’t been bleeding and they couldn’t understand what was causing it to drop so much.

I liked that ward. It was quiet. My bed faced the nurse’s station so I didn’t have anyone lying in a bed staring at me. But then it all changed. I had to have an endoscopy so was moved to an upstairs ward (D7). Again at some ridiculously late hour (all I know is it was dark). I tried my best to sleep and eventually drifted off. Then I was awoken by the lady in the bed to my right shouting for help and Roy. The nurse came eventually and calmed her down. I drifted back off to sleep. I awoke to her shouting again that she needed to go to the toilet. Someone came and said they’d be with her as soon as they could but another patient had fallen and they were busy trying to help them. I felt sorry for her. But she started shouting again when they didn’t get back to her as quickly as she wanted. There was 6 of us in the room and I think she woke all but 1 of us (the lady who snored and gargled in her sleep).

Morning came and I discovered that my bed faced 3 other women. I couldn’t handle it so shut my curtains. One woman was loud and never seemed to shut up.She talked on the phone, talked to the lady next to me who’d been shouting in the night, she talked to a lady 2 beds down from her, her visitors came and she talked with them, she talked to the nurses. She even talked to the shouty lady’s visitors! I put my headphones on and tried to block her out as best I could.

The good thing was I was taken off the IVs and allowed to take my insulin as normal. I began going for walks outside and having a smoke. It was really sunny one day and I enjoyed just sitting outside in it. But the idea of another night of shouting was one I couldn’t handle so I asked my daughter to smuggle in my sleeping pills. They worked a treat! At last I had a decent night’s sleep.

The endoscopy was a terrifying prospect. I was really scared and didn’t want to do it. They offered me sedation so I quickly said “Yes please!”. I was wheeled to the room in my bed. Now what I didn’t like was that they spray the back of your throat with an anesthetic before the sedation. It’s very hard to breathe when your throat is numb. Someone put a small round tube in my mouth – only about 1″ in length so it didn’t go far into my mouth but it was unexpected and made me begin to panic. I was trying to breathe but struggling. Then the sedation kicked in and I was blissfully unaware of anything. When I woke, my throat was a bit sore but nothing too bad. It was over and I was glad.

Unfortunately, the endoscopy showed nothing wrong. Well, fortunately I should say but I was frustrated that they weren’t finding an answer for my illness beyond the infection. My haemoglobin level was still too low so they wouldn’t discharge me. I was grateful for the sleeping pills that night as well.

Then the next day and another blood test. I was eating fine by this point though the menu was dreadful. Not even a hot breakfast! Just cereal and bread (not even toasted!).


Breakfast – um I’ll pass thanks

But I was told if the blood test was good I could go home that day. I was excited but running out of cigarettes so desperate to get the all clear. The result came back and my haemoglobin was up to 80 so headed in the right direction. They determined that I was okay to go home. I was referred to the community diabetic team (whom I have yet to hear from 2 weeks later) for re-training. I had 1 cigarette left so anxiously awaited for my medicines to be given and I could officially leave. It was early evening.

Carrying the bag of stuff my daughter had brought through the hospital was a bit hard. I was still weak and a bit lightheaded. But I managed. I sat outside and smoked my last cigarette then called a taxi to take me home. I had him stop at the shop on the way so in total it cost me £18 to get home. Luckily I had enough to pay for it.

Being home felt odd. I was still weak and lightheaded. I had to rest and recover. For the first week that was all I did – rest. I didn’t even really go online that week which worried a few friends. The first day home I had to go online though – I needed food in the house. I ordered from Tesco as usual but had to pay for delivery on a Saturday (the next day). I felt very dizzy by the time I got the order together and paid for it. But it was worth it to me.

I have been slowly getting my strength back and focusing on managing my diabetes. I’m testing more than usual (which was never!) and trying my best to take the right amount of insulin. I’m also trying to avoid injecting in the same place too often. This is difficult when I can’t inject into my thighs. It feels seriously freaky when I try. I may just be hitting the wrong spot when I do it so may have to learn more about where exactly to inject. It’s definitely something I need to work on.

I have also been teaching myself how to count carbs for each meal and work out how much insulin to take based on that. Back when I was diagnosed, they didn’t do that so I was never taught. It is confusing and I haven’t quite worked it out yet. But I am trying. Having to go into hospital woke me up a bit about my diabetes management. For too long my depression won and I ignored it. I didn’t have the energy for all this complicated stuff and didn’t really care enough about myself to do it properly.

But now I am trying my best and also trying to eat a better diet. I’m back to cooking again instead of relying on ping meals. And not just when my daughter is home but for myself. This morning I made a 2 egg omelette with cheese and fresh spinach and had a small glass of orange juice to wash it down. Now if I could just get this carb counting thing right and quit smoking! It’s too expensive and not good for me but one thing at a time. One thing at a time.


Psaryce x


Ill During The Festive Season


It sucks. And every December I seem to come down with some type of illness. Usually I feel it coming and so have a bit of warning. Not this time. It sideswiped me and knocked me on my ass.

First day was excruciating pain in my back, hips and knees along with cold shivers and a thumping head. I knew I didn’t have a fever. Second day, less pain but still a thumping head and cold shivers. I thought I had a fever this day but daughter checked me and said no.

Today is the third day. I shouldn’t complain as I am feeling a bit better. Still have a sluggish head and slightly dizzy. When I move, I feel my brain is struggling to catch up with the movement – even when I go real slow. Earlier I felt nauseous then discovered my blood glucose was quite high. Injected insulin and hoped it would sort me out. A few hours later and I still don’t feel right. I have to keep checking my blood more than normal because whatever I have is sending them sky-high. I’ve barely eaten anything. I managed 2 crackers and 1/2 a tuna sandwich in 2 days. I’ve been trying to get as much liquid in me as I can but the shivers make it hard. I haven’t fancied coffee for days now :O

I’ve been craving Campbell’s chicken noodle soup, or chicken and stars or chicken and rice. It isn’t sold here. Sigh. Thy are my main Go-To soups when I feel ill (despite the high salt content which I never noticed until I went back home a few months ago).

It’s Xmas time and I should be jolly, energised, bouncing with joy and actively trying to pull off another good year. But I have been in bed most of the last few days. Unable to get up long enough to do much of anything. I tried to work out if it was depression causing all this but for once I don’t think that’s the case. I’m just run down physically which has led to being a bit down mentally (not the other way around). It’s hard to explain how I know the difference but I guess since I try to keep a close monitor of this stuff, I tend to know without much doubt.

Years ago my now estranged husband and I got very ill right before xmas. Neither of us could face any food so we didn’t bother cooking until after Boxing Day. I felt bad as we had a young daughter but luckily she was too young to remember. She was fed, we just didn’t do a whole big festive meal. Besides she was more about the toys that year than anything else. But now it’s just her and me so I feel a sense of responsibility to do it.

My car recently failed it’s MOT so I thought that was it. I’d have to order groceries to be delivered …. Nope! None of the stores had even 1 delivery slot available. So I looked at doing the Click & Collect thing … Nope! No slots available for that either. Luckily after I had moaned on Facebook about not having Xmas dinner due to all this, 2 friends offered to help. One I barely know but she recently had a baby and I just couldn’t accept her offer. She has other children and should be with her family at this time of year. The other is a good friend whom I can’t wait to see so I jumped at her offer. We’ve not seen each other in a while so I am excited to get a chance to see her before xmas day.

I had worried about the rest of my shopping – gifts. But I managed to find some things online with guaranteed delivery before the day. Whoop! So only the stocking to do … hmmm I hope Tesco carry stuff besides chocolate I can stuff in Hoovy’s stocking. I think we are doing them this year!

So all this illness is why I didn’t get a chance to blog yesterday and why I am late today. Hopefully I will continue to recover and be able to be more consistent.


Psaryce x

Fitness For Work Assessment


Thursday. I have to try and cope with life and the additional stress and anxiety that precedes a fitness to work assessment. The last one I went to I was treated appallingly. So I am already experiencing anxiety about this one. Here are some of the thoughts rattling about in my mind continuously. I can’t seem to shut them up!

How will I managed to get any sleep the night before when I’m already stressing about it? What if I oversleep? How would I force myself to go if I have a bout of massive depression? Or if my anxiety continues to rise? Is there anything I can do to calm myself down while I wait for it to be time to leave on the day? Will I have to go alone or will my friend be well enough to come with me? How on Earth will I cope if I have to go alone? Will I get there on time or will I end up being late? What will traffic be like? Will I be able to walk from the car park to the office? What will I be feeling when I finally get there? How will I be received at reception? Will they keep me waiting for ages before calling me back? How will I cope with waiting even just a little while? Who will I see? What will their attitude be? How will I control my nerves? Will I cry? How many panic attacks will I have before, during and after the appointment? Will the person accept what I say or discount everything I feel and have been going through (like last time)? How will I feel once it is over? How long will it take me to recover from the ordeal this time (it took a week last time)?

Today is Monday. I am already exhausted from the anxiety I am experiencing over this appointment even though it isn’t until Thursday afternoon. I feel jittery and nervous. I can’t sit still. I can’t focus or relax. I am already struggling to find something to distract me. It looks like this is going to be a very long 4 days.

Psaryce x

PS: Curious to know if you have experienced something similar. Does this sound familiar to you?