Just keep plodding

So the cortisone injection hasn't made much, if any difference. Despite regularly going to the gym and swimming a mile at a time and/or cycling 20-25km I still can't walk comfortably. I'm having to take Tramadol to deal with the pain. This is having an adverse affect on my mental health, as living with constant pain is wearing me down. I feel like I'm limited in what I do. I'm having to use my crutches almost constantly.

So I was scheduled to have a treatment known as GPS on July 2nd. Arriving at the hospital at 7.30 I was quickly settled into a 4 bay room where I went through the general questions and consent forms that are necessary with any medical procedure.

My left leg was marked up so that they made sure they were doing the procedure on the correct foot. 

Then I was whisked off to theatre. Despite the procedure being done under local anaesthetic it has to be done in an operating theatre for safety reasons. After numerous checks to make sure I was who they said I was, and hadn't hopped off the trolley and smuggled an impostor in, the registrar cleaned my foot with antiseptic and then injected the base of my foot with local anaesthetic. Oh my goodness! The pain of having that done is unbelievable, and all I could do was try to keep breathing and just tell myself it would be over soon. My foot was soon starting to feel tingly and then numb. While the doctor was waiting for the local anaesthetic to work he took some blood from my arm, 30mls to be precise. 

The blood is placed into a special tube, and then placed in a centrifuge machine to spin it around really fast. This separates the red cells from the white cells, and then the plasma part of the blood is re injected into the affected foot. 

This process takes around 18-20 minutes, and so it gave plenty of time for my foot to numb up. The doctor was happy to talk about the procedure, telling me that in 80% of cases it works and the foot pain clears up completely. The plasma is injected because the fibrous tissue in that part of the foot doesn't have a great blood flow and so this gets the healing cells straight to where they are needed. 

Once the blood had been spun, it was removed from the machine. The doctor showed me how the red blood cells were at the top of the tube, there was a pinky coloured substance in the middle which was the plasma, and a clear substance at the bottom. The doctor pulled the red blood cells out of the tube with a syringe, and discarded that into the medical waste, then he drew 3mls of the plasma into a syringe and injected that into the base of my foot. This wasn't as bad as the local anaesthetic going in, as obviously my foot was numb. 

After that had been done, and a sticky plaster placed over the injection site I was taken into recovery, just to make sure my blood pressure and pulse was ok and then it was back to the ward for tea, toast and to be presented with my new best friend, my moonboot. 

The boot is there to keep my foot and ankle in one position. For the first three days I had to keep the boot on constantly for 24 hours, then until the first week was up I had to keep it on 24 hours a day apart from when I was washing. This happened to coincide with the hottest spell of weather that Britain has had for years. Typical. Add the boot to a pair of shoulder crutches for the first week, and I was pretty much set to go home. 

Trying to stay off my feet for 3 days was unbelievably hard. I didn't realise how much I actually moved around. Getting upstairs to the bathroom, or even just from the sofa to the kitchen was a struggle. It's really frustrating when you can't get from A to B faster than a snail. After the first week I was allowed to take the boot off at night, but had to wear it the rest of the time, to give my foot a chance to heal. I noticed almost immediately that having the support from the boot helped immensely. But after a couple of days I noticed a strange feeling in my second and third toe, and it feels as if there is slight nerve damage, with my toes either feeling numb or tingly. 

I'm now a month on from the procedure and followed the instructions the consultant gave me to the letter. Unfortunately, though, despite the procedure and the rest, and the boot I am still in pain. My foot still feels tight, not so much in my Achilles, but my plantar fasciitis seems only slightly improved, I'd say around 20% better. This is really disappointing for me. I had hoped that it would work and by this point I would be pain free. 

I see the consultant again in ten days, and I'm not sure what the next step of the process is. I have read about an operation called a "plantar release". It seems that most cases of plantar fasciitis should be completed cleared by a year in, well I'm around that point now and I've thrown everything I can at it. From stretching and frozen water in a pepsi bottle, to massage and acupuncture, to cortisone and this latest procedure. I feel I'm no closer to running again than I was at the start of the year.

It's had a massive impact on my mental health. It's really hard to watch other people running races you know you would have been in, while you are sat on the sidelines with no light at the end of the tunnel. The Great North Run is in just over a month, and it hurts to know I won't be running this year. Running did amazing things to me, not only helping me to lose weight, but giving me targets to achieve and boosting my self-confidence when I reached those targets, to just having the time and space when out running to go through my mental filing cabinet and deal with the stresses of life. I desperately want to get back to that place. 

I've spoken about how depression feels for me before and how my mental health affects my life. I feel so restricted at times, and that in itself makes me angry. When I'm lying in bed in the morning and it takes all my effort to get out of it, or when I'm stood at my front door, unable to pull on the handle to go outside, when the world goes from glorious technicolour to monochrome, or when everything seems amplified, noise, sound, smells and all I want is peace, quiet and stability, when I'm doubting that I'll be able to ride this wave out, and wondering why I keep trying to get back on the surfboard when life and depression keeps knocking me off, this illness feels like it's mocking me. Telling me that I was an idiot for ever thinking I would succeed. And it takes masses of energy just to keep going. Then I go to bed at night, absolutely worn out from just existing, and lie awake, sleep eluding me, and the more I can't sleep, the more angry about it I become as I know the next day will already be hard, as I'm going to be tired. 

But life is a challenge. This illness, depression and Borderline Personality Disorder will not beat me. 10% of all people with BPD end up committing suicide and I don't want to be part of that statistic. So I keep on trying to just take each day as it comes. One fabulous achievement that I have attained is 4 years sobriety. This year has been an incredibly difficult one. There are moments when I would have welcomed the oblivion that alcohol can provide, however I know I have far too much to lose if I drink and that keeps me sober. However hard things feel at the moment, they would feel 100 times harder coupled with alcohol and a hangover. 

Each day is a journey through life. You can try and embrace it, even with the restrictions of illness, or you can give up. Personally I will do everything I can each day to hit the small targets that I set myself when depression hits, getting up, trying to keep in touch with friends and family, trying to focus on small positives. And that is all that I can ask of myself at the moment. 

Under a black cloud

We'll start with an update. I picked up a mild calf strain on my last run a couple of weeks ago. Initially it was terrifying not knowing how long I wouldn't be able to run or exercise for. I spent several days with my leg elevated and alternating my high-tech ice pack (bag of mixed veg) and my super-sexy tubi-grip bandage on my calf. Then came the waiting for the pain to go so I could exercise again. Finally this week I realised that my calf did actually feel much better and realised I'd been lucky and it had just been a minor strain. So this morning it was back to beach bootcamp and the wonderful pair of Dave and Tony, who were excellent, reigning me back in to not go off to hard, and ensuring that I was ok. I've never been so terrified before running before (including first ever bootcamp) and I've never spent so long thinking of one muscle, checking constantly how it feels, is it tight, is it hurting, is this normal, is it going to ping on me at any moment? And I came through unscathed and it looks as if my first sports injury has cleared up.

Now on to this blog. I have a condition called Borderline Personality Disorder (or Emotionally Unstable Personality Disorder). What this means in real terms to me is that I can be very impulsive, I don't react to stress in a rational way, my emotions can be up and down and can change very, very quickly, I often have trouble liking or accepting myself, I put myself down loads, I am scared that people don't like me and in the past I have used things like alcohol, gambling, self-harming and binge eating/making myself sick to cope with things.

I was diagnosed in my early 20's on my first six month stay in a psychiatric unit. My self-harming at one point was out of control and those of you who have met me might have seen some scars on my arm. They are a constant reminder and a constant shame of mine, I hate them, they represent a weak and sick me. I am busy working on a tattoo sleeve to cover them up. They are the old me, I don't self harm anymore, and haven't cut for over 7 years. I've mentioned my alcoholism before too. My drinking became an enormous problem, taking over my life, but I've been sober now for 2 years and 3 months tomorrow.

Something that goes alongside Emotionally Unstable Personality Disorder is depression. Over the last couple of weeks I have been hit again with this awful illness. I want to try and share with you what depression is actually like. Depression isn't just a mental illness. For me depression is a physical illness too. I wake up in the morning and there is an immense pressure in my head. I have a thumping headache, I can't stand the light, noise goes right through me. Paracetamol doesn't touch it. And it goes on and on, for days, weeks, months. Walking around jars my head and makes it hurt more.

My muscles ache. They feel fatigued. I feel like I have weights on my arms, legs and a massive backpack on my back filled with sandbags. And I can't take it off, so every movement, every step is an enormous effort. To get out of bed physically exhausts me.

I just want to sleep. For as long as possible, all day and all night if I could. I've been to bootcamp this morning, the effort to get out of bed was massive, the effort to actually get through the bootcamp was enormous, so much more than normal even though I was effectively taking it easy today. I now feel completely wiped out. Normally I come home from bootcamp and feel energised, today I feel great that I've been there, but I am physically tired.

My brain feels like it is mushed. I am a single parent, and have been looking after my girls on my own for 7 years. I am independent, I do everything, I have be responsible (which for someone with Emotionally Unstable Personality Disorder isn't easy). At this moment in time I struggle at times to finish the sentence I am saying, as I have forgotten what I am saying. I am trying to cope with University, with 6 essays due in all on the same day in December, and my brain can't remember if I've left the oven on, never mind write 2000 words on Marxism. This means that the usual juggle of dealing with school for the girls, dealing with household bills, managing the everyday organisation becomes a massive struggle.

And then I beat myself up! To know that I am unable to do the everyday things, to go to Tesco without panicking about there being loads of people there, to be able to leave the house in the mornings, to go out for a run, to even open the curtains in the morning, to get out of bed is so frustrating, so soul destroying. I get so angry. It doesn't feel fair. I have to fight so hard to be able to do a fraction of what I normally do, it takes so much energy. And here's where I have to admit that I get suicidal thoughts.

This week, in particular, I've been battling hard. I've had moments when I've had to remind myself that I have more good reasons to keep going. My girls are obviously my main motivation, my university place is important to me, but I am also a stubborn bugger and I'll be damned if I am going to let this illness kill me.

Depression can hit anyone, it doesn't matter if you are successful or not in life, it doesn't discriminate. You have to deal with a lot of people who seem to say "What have you got to be depressed about?" Why blame someone for being ill with depression. Think about it, would people have the same reaction to someone with another illness, say diabetes? Epilepsy? Cancer? Depression can hit anyone, the same as these other illnesses.

I'm fighting on, today has been a good morning, a very, very good morning, I got up, I got out of the house, I went to bootcamp. I don't know what this afternoon will bring, or tomorrow, or the day after. I might be stuck in the house tomorrow, unable to do much more than the basics.

There are so many other people out there that feel that their fight has gone, that the only option is suicide, and if you feel like this please do something before deciding on suicide. Contact:

Your GP

http://www.samaritans.org/

http://www.sane.org.uk/

http://www.nhsdirect.nhs.uk/

Or phone 999


This blog post is written in memory of someone who inspired me and motivated me in my battle against alcohol and also in my fight to get fit. She felt this week that she couldn't go on and took her life. She will be missed by so many people: To Angie, there are so many people who have shed tears this week at your passing, I hope you have found the peace and tranquility that was eluding you here. Rest in Peace.

And to a legend of Newcastle United, his death has stunned all of football. I spent hours watching his brilliance, he gave me chinks of sunlight through some dark clouds, and distracted me from my own problems. He was a skillful player, a gentleman and an all round nice guy. Depression and suicide doesn't discriminate, it is a cruel and horrific illness. RIP Gary Speed.