Tag: osteoporosis

Dead In The Water

I know this is a bit unexpected, but I’ve recently become very unsure of myself as a writer (and a reader, too, come to that). I’m sitting in my chair in the living room and have spent the entire morning and much of the afternoon staring at a blank page, unable to write anything I consider worthy. Giving up on that idea, I decided to catch up on reading all the blogs I’m so behind on. I’ve read many repeatedly, and I’m still finding my mind completely vacant when it comes to responding to them.

Some of you will also know I’m taking a writing course with a group of writers and a tutor. We’ve just had a two-week break, and I should have written and submitted at least three pieces of work in that time. Yet, I haven’t managed to produce anything that would pass as halfway decent. I have until Wednesday morning to come up with something. My mind is blank, completely blank.

“So, what is going on?” I ask myself. I am still in a lot of pain from Friday’s difficult tooth extraction despite two types of painkillers and antibiotics, which aren’t doing much to alleviate my discomfort. I’m also worried that my lip and chin are still numb thirty-six hours after the procedure. That can’t be right, can it? Perhaps, I’ve got nerve damage. Now, I’m worrying even more. I’m telling myself to stop panicking, but I can’t phone the dentist till tomorrow because it’s a bank holiday weekend.

Apart from being in pain and not having slept for three nights, I’ve also just discovered that I should have come off my osteoporosis drug (Alendronic Acid) three months prior and following the extraction; otherwise, there is a very real risk of getting Osteonecrosis of the Jaw. That’s when the exposed jawbone in the gum dies, which can then spread to other parts of the bone in the jaw and face. I wasn’t given this information beforehand, so to say I am worried is somewhat of an understatement.

I began writing this at around 2pm yesterday, and here we are today at gone 2pm, and I’ve written nothing of any worth of interest. I’ve spent the entire morning flicking back and forwards through posts I want to read and comment on, but my concentration is severely lacking, and it’s past the stage of seeing anything other than panic and feeling overwhelmed.

I’m seriously wondering whether I should give up my writing course and blogging, although I know I’d miss all my classmates and blogging friends terribly. I don’t feel I have anything worthwhile to offer, and I shouldn’t expect others to take an interest in my writing if I cannot reciprocate. Perhaps, it would be better if I weren’t here. I feel hopeless, quite unlike my usual self. I think my desire to be a writer will never amount to anything. I am, for want of a better expression, dead in the water.

Photo by Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash

Best Foot Forward …

The only photo of me in the flesh that you’re likely to ever see! I’m shy.
Make the most of it – it’s not likely to happen again 😉!

I thought I’d give you a little background information about my disability. It’s not something I’ve previously spoken about much in my blog, so this is my story.

I started life as an able-bodied little girl who did all the usual activities that young children do. I was always small, skinny and underweight, but there were advantages to being as I was. I could shin up the gym apparatus faster than many children in my class. Considering I was sometimes thought of as a weed, I did pretty well. I grew up, married, had my two children, Tom and Clare, and then my ex left. I continued to raise the children alone and also had to work to bring some money in for us to live on. It was a tough time, but I was very content. Between school runs, the children’s football matches and netball, I was a carer and home help for ten years (I’d initially trained as a secretary and worked in the City of London for several years). I combined my work which I loved, with caring for Tom and Clare; we were a very happy little family.

When the children were about thirteen and eleven, I saved enough to take them to the funfair in town (Essex in the UK). It was there that I had my accident which was to change the course of my life.
When our carriage crashed, I felt a tremendous jolt that jarred my neck and spine. Eventually, after a lengthy spell in hospital (with my children staying with my Mum) and with many tests, x-rays, scans and examinations, the doctors decided I’d damaged the nerve endings leading from my spine. They said it was permanent. It was an awful lot to come to terms with, but over time, I grew, not so much to accept it but more to live my life despite it. I wasn’t about to give in easily. The pain was awful, though, and I was on morphine for quite a while. It wasn’t all bad – I was away with the fairies much of the time 😄!

Fast forward twenty years. It was recommended that I have a DEXA Scan as osteoporosis was suspected, given that I’d always been small-boned, had experienced a few years previously with anorexia, and being unable to exercise very often. When I got my results, I was unsure who was more shocked, the radiographer or me. My T-scores were appallingly low. A score of -2.5 indicates osteoporosis, but mine was -4.5, which meant I had severe osteoporosis.

Degrees of osteoporosis
Mine is severe, meaning there is more air space (in brown) and very little solid bone (shown in beige). It’s a wonder I haven’t entirely disintegrated!!

I was told I could die if I fractured my hip or be left even more disabled if I injured my spine. I have to admit I was scared – very scared. Every move I made seemed risky, and I lived in fear for a while. I became super-careful with everything I did, but two years ago, I tripped over Peanut (my new cat) while transferring from my wheelchair to my walking frame. There I was being rushed off to Accident & Emergency for the second time. I was in agony. I’ve never felt pain like it. After all the x-rays and scans came back, the doctors announced that I’d broken my pelvis, not once, not twice, but in six different places. I don’t do things by halves. If I’m going to have an accident, I’ve got to do it in style!

Strangely enough, contrary to what most people would think, I don’t have any regrets; I’m not angry or bitter or in the least bit dissatisfied with my life. I am who I am. Without the experiences I’ve been through, I wouldn’t be me. I wouldn’t be Ellie.

My next post (Part Two) will be about my journey back to good health and where I intend to go from here on in.

Okay … these aren’t my legs, but just an indication of where I go next on my journey. Look out for part two.

DEM BONES, DEM BONES, DEM DRY BONES (Song) …

If someone had told me a decade ago that I’d be getting my mobility back after all these years of being in a wheelchair, I would never have believed them. But, here I am, walking with one crutch indoors, but not outside. However, the irony of this situation is that four weeks ago, I was diagnosed with very severe osteoporosis following a DEXA bone scan where my T-score (-4.5) was almost off the radar. My GP said she’s not seen anyone with this level of bone fragility for a very long time. If I fall, bend or twist, I stand a very high rate of fracturing my spine or breaking a hip either of which could result in permanent disability or paralysis. Bad news.

Having said all that, I’m not giving up on life … not at all. I have to learn to do everything differently and safely. Whether it’s getting something out of the fridge, picking up a bit of fluff from the floor, drying my feet after a shower and other tasks I took for granted before. I have to think before every move, and it’s exhausting sometimes, but I’m not complaining. It could be far worse.

I refuse to let this condition beat me. It knocked the stuffing out of me when I first got my diagnosis, and I was very depressed for quite a while, but now, I’m keeping active by moving around my home more and going to the gym at least two to three times a week and working really hard. Exercise is the key. I’m getting stronger, not weaker, and as long as I don’t fall, I’ll continue that way. I daren’t attempt to set foot outdoors without George (my electric chariot!) or my manual wheelchair for fear of falling on the concrete. There’s no way, after all this hard work, that I want to be back in the position where I can’t wash and feed myself again. I’m come too far.

So, I’m following my specialist’s advice, keeping active, taking medication which should help prevent any further bone loss and being extra careful about my diet. No big deal. That coupled with all my work at the gym should keep dem bones of mine ticking over for some time, I think.

 

 

EATING DISORDERS BITE BACK

I’ve had an eating disorder ever since I was a child. At times, it has been severe both as anorexia and periods of bulimia. I have been hospitalized (sectioned) twice in 1996 and 1998 as my anorexia was severe and my weight dropped dangerously low to five stone only. I was in my late thirties at that time as contrary to popular belief, eating disorders affect both men and women of any age, not just teenagers although I was in the minority being that age on my ward.

I don’t intend to go into details about my past eating behaviours as this post isn’t about encouraging anyone who is struggling with tips on how to eat less and all the other negative practices associated with an ED. This is just about my feelings about myself.

eating disorders are not optional

As most of you know, I am now in my early fifties and over the years my weight has gone up and down like a yoyo. I have also acquired, as a direct result of my ED, severe osteoporosis and problems with my teeth amongst other issues. (NB. This isn’t the cause of my disability although it obviously aggravates my symptoms).

Suffice it to say, I still have great difficulties with my eating and know I have a distorted body image but despite counselling, I still have a daily battle. My weight is fine (although I would like it to be less [but that is the anorexia speaking] and classically, think I look far too fat). I come slap-bang in the middle of the healthy range on the BMI scale yet I still see this as bad instead of healthy and good. I generally eat fairly healthily but maybe a little too less than I should. But, this is interspersed with sudden desperate urges for chocolate, cakes, ice-cream etc for which I go out of my way in my wheelchair to the local supermarket or newsagent for too large a quantities! I don’t keep any ‘naughty‘ food as such, in the house because I wouldn’t be able to control my bingeing on it.

I hate having an ED – it rules my life and is just an added stress on my mind and body along with the effects of my child abuse, rape, PTSD etc which I have written much on previously. Many people consider that once you have gained a healthy BMI, you are ‘cured‘! This is not the case, unfortunately, speaking for myself that is. I only wish it were. EDs don’t always get better; they may wax and wane or be mild or severe at times). Currently, I would put myself in the middle of that scale which is a constant battle.

I detest my ED. It’s the first thing that springs to mind whenever I am stressed or have experienced current feelings of trauma such as flashback and new memories surfacing. I think about food first thing in the morning until last thing at night. When I was younger and in out of hospital, I truly believed at times that I had become free of my ED. However, this is not the case….eating disorders can bite back! However, I still have fight in me and will never give up believing that one day, I will be free of all this.

hold fast to your dreams