It’s about beginnings

I feel like it’s important to write about what’s happening, so I’ve re-re-resurrected my blog.

I could start with last week, when the my doctor tentatively suggested I might have CFS (which is the closest the NHS gets to diagnosing it nowadays).

I could start with a month ago, when I got fed up with being told by said doctors to ‘take more vitamins’, and decided to research for myself why I was feeling so tired and achey, and then present some credible information to my health providers in the hope they would actually listen to me.

That, or there’s last summer, when I realised I couldn’t cope with a full-time job, despite having given up pretty much everything except it and sleep, because I could barely function on the amount of rest it allowed me to have.

Or last semester at university, when I nearly failed my course because I was sleeping so much and unable to concentrate when I was actually awake. And yes, I did the standard ‘talk to your study advisor about it’; he ignored me.

Or there’s all the years I was just used to the lack of energy, constant need to sleep, brain fog and muscle pain, and assumed the debilitating headaches, nausea and heart palpitations were from stress.

But perhaps, given what I’ve found out over the last month or so, the start of this was the rather overwhelming case of glandular fever I had several years ago, which I never really seemed to get over.


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