I had about an hours sleep between bedtime and midday, and so phoned to cancel my appointment. I realised (because I was going to my dad’s house in a few days) that I felt I should go by a deadline (perhaps because I felt stressed and rushed about moving houses, which created this general sense of urgency).
Afterwards, I felt sheepish. That I had given in to fear, and was potentially giving up opportunities.
But I don’t blame myself. I think I was too ill to handle that extra stress. Stress is like water in a cup. If the cup is already half full and can’t accommodate the extra water, then it will simply spill everywhere. I was too full to deal with any excess.
(In this case, a half empty cup is the more positive perspective!)
Part of the anxiety is I don’t see the point in seeing the doctor. I am uncertain about them on every level. I would like to have someone to report back to, someone to work with and give me guidance. I feel I am doing many constructive things recently: I am going to start a cognitive behavioural therapy course, for instance, to help me sleep better. I have begun to do graded exercise, something you are supposed to do under supervision but that I am cobbling together from the advice that my boyfriend’s physiotherapist gave to him.
When I added this goal to my list I imagined bullet pointing my plan and firing them off one by one. Bang, bang, bang!
- Talk about sleeping tablets to help me recover from events
- Talk about pain and options for managing pain
- Anxiety issues
- To talk about management in general…
... and then I lose confidence. I lose confidence in them and in myself. I feel helpless around them rather than empowered.
The confusion is compounded by not knowing what they think about M.E because they don’t always follow the official guidelines. I looked at the guidelines recently and it began with this description:
The physical symptoms can be as disabling as multiple sclerosis, systemic lupus erythematosus, rheumatoid arthritis, congestive heart failure and other chronic conditions. ME places a substantial burden on people with the condition, their families and carers, and hence on society.
However my last doctor told me that M.E was a mental illness and doesn’t understand why I can’t accept that (he holds the highest position at the surgery). Again, it feels like there’s this secret knowledge that patients aren’t privy to.
This rant is like shaking dust out of a carpet.
I need other people to open at least some doors for me, but I have to put myself out there first… 20 months ago