The last three years have been some of the toughest in my life. I was not one of the ones who (knowingly, at least) caught covid, nor was I one of the ones that had to say goodbye to a loved one by video link, or one of the ones that lost their livelihood. I’m one of the lucky ones.
I returned from New Zealand in February 2020 after just over a month spent visiting my daughter and teaching Dance Movement Therapy. Not only that, but I met up with some long-lost second cousins. I would have been on a high, had it not been for the terrible wrench I feel each time I say goodbye to my daughter and her little family. It was to be a year before I would see her again. It turned out to be two years and eight months.
While still in New Zealand, I tried to buy hand sanitiser and masks for the journey home. All the shops had sold out. I had only just recovered from a two-month-long cough so I was a bit nervous on the plane but fairly phlegmatic. If I caught covid, I did. There was nothing I could do. Thankfully, I did not. But New Zealand closed its borders almost as soon as I got home.
Then in March, the British government started talking about isolation, especially for older people. We were encouraged to isolate ourselves from danger. The only trouble was, the word ‘isolation’ was a trigger for me, bringing me out in a sweat and making my heart race. Why? Because at the age of three, I had polio and was in isolation. It was probably the most traumatic event of my life, with being bullied in secondary school coming a close second.
I was sensible enough to seek therapy and found someone who could offer me six online sessions. Such a brief therapy only scratched the surface, but it enabled me to cope. Just. I will never forget seeing my three-year-old granddaughter approach me in our garden, once we were allowed to do so socially distanced, and seeing her hurt and confusion as she was told to step back.
From the moment New Zealand closed its borders, I had dreams of children lost and in danger, with me trying to rescue them. Having been traumatised as a child, feeling abandoned and unloved through no fault of my parents, I am particularly sensitive to news items in which children suffer cruelty, left alone to fend for themselves. Then, in early 2022 there was a news item I couldn’t get out of my head. I had ‘flashbacks’ as if I had been there, trying to stop the horrendous treatment of one child who was murdered after unrelenting torture, and failing. Once more, I sought therapy, and this time I saw someone face-to-face for twelve sessions, after an initial online assessment. The flashbacks eventually ceased.
In October 2022, after a fairly upsetting journey in which it seemed no one was willing to take me to my accommodation in Melbourne, I finally arrived in Queenstown, New Zealand. As I ran into my daughter’s arms, the floodgates opened. All the hurt and upset of the past two years and eight months seemed to be clamouring to get out and be heard.
What happened next was unfathomable. My daughter’s family had all had some kind of bug that included fatigue, so when I became fatigued I assumed I was fighting it off. When it persisted, my daughter wondered if it was an allergic reaction to something in the environment. I had a few days when I felt well, during which I was able to do some walks, but my usual joie de vivre eluded me. The journey home did not begin well. There was some problem at check-in associated with my planned accommodation off-site in Abu Dhabi, during which I was sent off to make a phone call to Australia, so I said a tearful goodbye to the family. The phone call was pointless – I did not manage to speak to a human being, which left me feeling stressed. Already unwell and with wobbly legs due to the emotion of our goodbye and my hip hurting, all I wanted to do was sit down instead of which I had to stand away from the check-in desk and wait patiently. I received my boarding passes despite not managing to provide the information the ground staff had asked for.
On returning home in early December 2022, I was initially pleased with my recovery from jet lag and even had a bit of energy. But then the malaise returned. I woke tired after a long sleep, began yawning, and could not wait to go back to sleep again.
And so, I consulted my GP. Bloods were done, and a seven-day heart monitor promised (which I am still waiting for a month or so later). The only thing my bloods turned up was raised cholesterol, which did not explain my symptoms.
According to some scientists[i], risks associated with cholesterol can be reduced 30 percent by eating certain foods, simply expressed as the so-called ‘Mediterranean diet’. This isn’t the same necessarily as what people nowadays eat in the Med! Dietary cholesterol only has a small effect on blood cholesterol, whereas saturated fats in meat, dairy, and pastries can increase so-called ‘bad cholesterol’. Eating healthy fats and oils, on the other hand, will have a helpful effect. That means vegetable oils, nuts, and seeds – not eating a low-fat diet, which often results in more sugar and other additives that increase triglycerides and impact on the liver. So, the best thing to do is to increase fruit, veg, beans, plant-based protein sources, and avoid things like red meat and butter, processed foods, and so on. It’s not the dietary cholesterol that’s the problem, but the saturated fats and other nasties in these foods.
The trouble is, I already do all of this! I managed to convince my GP practice that my risk isn’t that high because my weight and blood pressure are normal[ii]. They were going on old data about my weight, and the one BP measure taken by the GP in the surgery, which was high (so-called ‘white coat syndrome’). But the conversation about statins is shelved for the time being. Statins might protect against heart disease, but they don’t reduce the risk of death in women[iii]. They also, like all drugs, have side effects.
So then, I turned my attention to what could be causing my fatigue. I have suffered from ME / Chronic Fatigue Syndrome in the past and hoped this wasn’t it. It lasted two and a half years when I had it last. One identifying characteristic of that particular (disputed) syndrome is that exercise, far from giving people energy as it does, say, in depression, leaves them floored. At the time I saw the GP, I had not managed to monitor this as I was only walking about a mile a day, if that (as opposed to my usual six to eight). Since then, I have noticed when I do too much, the next day I pay for it. In short, I have the classic symptoms but my GP was reluctant to diagnose. The other possible culprits are fibromyalgia, which is a possibility because my arthritic pain increased around the time I started feeling fatigued, post-polio syndrome (characterised, among other things, by muscle weakness, which I am experiencing), and depression. I spoke to my GP (a different one!) on the phone once the bloods were back, and during the conversation, I told him I now needed two co-codamol nightly, because my arthritic pain was preventing sleep. Finally, the medical profession has woken up to what I was aware and fearful of all along, that these pills are addictive. He wants to get me off them, so he prescribed Duloxetine, which happens to be an anti-depressant but also inhibits pain messages to the brain.
I decided to begin weaning myself off the co-codamol during the second week of taking the pills. I have now been taking the anti-depressant for three weeks. I did manage one night without even half a pill, but last night as I turned in bed I was woken by a familiar, sudden and sharp pain in my hip, making me cry out. I took just one co-codamol at 4.30 am.
So, what does the future hold for me? I’m noticing that any stress tends to shove me back to feeling utterly exhausted, though maybe not quite as much as three weeks ago. The pain might be marginally lessened, but then I have not been doing that much exercise. While exercise is good for arthritis, it can also bring on pain, especially when the disease is as advanced as mine.
I have always said the distinction between mental health and physical health is a false one. Our brains, after all, are part of our bodies. The brain controls our breathing, various hormones, the use of our muscles and so much more. And stress affects our bodies in so many ways. It can lead to ulcers, heart disease, and – yes, you guessed it – raised cholesterol[iv].
And so, I come full circle. I have been under a lot of stress in the past three years.
So, what am I doing?
- Well, I am trying to do things that bring me joy. It’s hard when the weather here in the UK has been so cold, the cost of heating a house so high, and the rain pretty relentless. But yesterday, my husband and I went to hear the students at the Royal Northern College of Music in a lunchtime concert. It was like old times, pre-covid. And it felt good.
- I am also trying to make meditation a priority before doing anything else at the start of the day.
- I am prioritising yoga classes at the gym, and when I can muster the energy, dance classes.
- I intend to join a choir.
- And I continue to practice mindfulness, meaning I try not to sweat the small stuff, but let things go. When I need to act on something that’s bothering me, I act, but I don’t get too caught up in ruminating, especially about things I can’t control. And I am trying to be compassionate to myself.
What do I still need to do?
- I need to get out there and see friends more.
- I might need some sun.
- I need to build up my strength so as not to risk too much deterioration in my muscles and bones – that means walking more and doing weight-bearing exercise.
All of these things will benefit both my mental and physical health. Because there’s no health without mental health.
[i] https://link.chtbl.com/s9cwxMzY
[ii] For anyone wishing to check their risk of heart disease, you can find your own Q-risk online here: https://www.qrisk.org/three/
[iii] See, for example, Vos, E., Rose, CP, & Biron, P. (2013). Point/Counterpoint Point: Why statins have failed to reduce mortality in just about anybody. Journal of Clinical Lipidology, 7 (3), pp. 222-224.
[iv] See, for example, https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/1558435/
ramblings 