Wednesday, April 4, 2012

In the Meantime...

There has been much I would have liked to have written about in the last many months, but my health has just been too poor. I hope to be well enough to start writing again sometime in the near future. In the meantime, I thought I'd share a a few more photos from my little bedroom window.

Within the confines of these four walls, my life is at a standstill. Outside, life goes on -- vibrant, beautiful, active and free. It is where I so desperately long to be.



Amaryllis Blooms

Amaryllis

Cute Bunnies

Deer at Christmas-time

More Deer

Cute Gopher Strikes a Pose

Pretty Goldfinch

Lots of Finches


Quail

Black Flycatcher

Falcon

Finches Waiting out the Rain

Through the Clouds... A Rainbow


So shines the setting sun on adverse skies,
and paints a rainbow on the storm. ~Isaac Watts


Wishing everyone better health, fewer storms and brighter skies ahead.

Thursday, March 22, 2012

In Memory of Emily


It is with much sadness that I write of the passing of Emily Collingridge -- a brave young woman with severe ME who died on Sunday from complications of the disease. She was 30 years old.

Emily, who had been sick with ME/CFS since she was six years old (and was mostly bedridden since her teens), still managed to accomplish much in her short life. She authored the book Severe ME/CFS: A Guide to Living. She also worked as a volunteer advocate for the Association for Young People with ME (AYME) as well as a family support charity called Home-Start. She manage to do all of these things from her bed, but was unable to continue when she suffered a setback in 2005.


Emily graciously allowed me to include her story and photos in my October 2011 testimony to the (ME)/CFS Advisory Committee. In my testimony, I borrowed from Emily's own appeal to tell her story:

[Emily] writes: "I cannot be washed, cannot raise my head, cannot have company, cannot be lifted from bed, cannot look out of the window, cannot be touched, cannot watch television or listen to music - the list is long. ME has made my body an agonising prison."
Emily's daily life involves medicine/fluid being pumped into her stomach through a tube, various injections, diaper changes, transient paralysis, and pain so severe she sometimes hallucinates.
[She states]: "This wretched, ugly disease is made all the more so through the scandalous lack of research into its most severe form and the lack of necessary, appropriate support for those suffering from it. This is something that must change."

Although Emily and I only corresponded a few times in the last many months, it was enough for me to have considered her a friend. In the brief time that I knew her, I found myself repeatedly touched by her kind nature, and her strong desire to help others -- even when she herself was so terribly ill. Most of all, I was inspired by her strength, spirit and determination -- all of which she continued to demonstrate to the very end.

Today, I feel both saddened and angered. Emily was so young when she fell ill, and so young when she died. She had such potential; such vitality and desire for life. She should not have suffered as she did. She should not have died. There should be answers by now for those of us suffering with this disease. Instead, we are repeatedly told by government health agencies that there is not enough money to increase funding for research, that things take time, and we need to be patient and wait. But some of us have waited an entire lifetime. And for some, like Emily, it is already too late.

I hope that Emily's death will not be in vain. I hope that, in hearing her story, people will start to understand just how devastating this illness truly is, how dreadfully sick we are, and how desperately we need help.



My heartfelt sympathy to Emily's family and friends. She will be missed by so many.

For more about Emily, please check out the following links:

Saturday, November 26, 2011

These Small Candles

One thing I think this illness has taught me over the years is the need to maintain a constant sense of perspective.

I can recall healthier days many years ago when I sometimes complained about various inconveniences I now see as luxuries:  long lines at the grocery store, traffic, the high cost of a movie ticket or night out with friends, the tediousness of housecleaning, an especially difficult day at work.

And yet, as I reflect back on those things, I actually long to find myself in some of those same circumstances, which I now view as great privileges.

Today, I would pay any price for the blessing of being well enough to go to a grocery store and pick out my own food, and would happily stand in line for hours in order to do so. I would be equally thrilled to pay any amount if it allowed me even one night of health to spend out (or even in) with my family and friends.   And I would never complain about a long or hard day at work because I'd be so overjoyed to even be ABLE to work that I would be there half an hour early every single day.

When I first became ill, I thought I'd lost so much. And I had.  But despite how difficult my life had become as a result of my health, I was still able (with extreme determination) to continue to work. I was still occasionally able to go to lunch or to a movie with a friend.  Though it was difficult, I could do my own laundry, get my own groceries, cook my own meals.   I didn't realize how extremely fortunate I still was.

And then, I had a life-changing setback which left me housebound. Suddenly, I found myself  once again longing for my old life. Not just the life I had before I got sick, but the life I had just prior to the setback. If only I could get back to my previous level, I thought, I'd never take anything for granted again.

And then... another setback struck, this one leaving me bedridden. Then another, leaving me unable to speak above a whisper. Then another, leaving me unable to shower. And so on.

Each time I have a setback, I find myself yearning for what I had before it -- for what gifts I did not fully appreciate as much as I should have, and for things I never even imagined I could lose or would have to go without.


This illness can take away so much from our lives: our independence, our careers, our hobbies and our sense of identity. In extreme cases like mine, it can even take away basic, elemental abilities we don't expect to lose until we are nearing the end of our lives.

As I've mentioned previously, in order to cope with this degree of  loss, I've had to learn to shift my thinking; to try to focus on what things I can do on any given day, and not on what I can't. This is often easier said then done.

Struggling with these challenges, I recently found myself searching for quotes on hope. I came across the following:
"In moments of discouragement, defeat, or even despair, there are always certain things to cling to. Little things usually: remembered laughter, the face of a sleeping child, a tree in the wind -- in fact, any reminder of something deeply felt or dearly loved.
No man is so poor as not to have many of these small candles. When they are lighted, darkness goes away and a touch of wonder remains."

-- "These Small Candles" (attributed to a tombstone inscription in Britain)

It reminded me to take a moment and reflect on what small (and even large) candles still remain in my life. Here are just a few:

Friends and Family


Sweet Notes from my Fiance


Hearing those 3 words....


Flowers to Brighten My Day


Hot Cups of Tea


The Rare Chocolate Indulgence


Comfort Foods


Sweet, Healthy Fruit


Audiobooks (and getting lost in a good story)


Bird Song


Window Views, Blue Skies and Puffy Clouds


Soft Breezes


Beautiful Music That Carries Me Away


Photos of my Niece and Nephew


Little Kid Drawings (made just for me)


Childhood Memories
(that's me climbing our maple tree)




Humor and Things That Make Me Smile


Memories of Past Travels
(This is a photo I took while in Venice, Italy)


Hope for the Future



Dreams --
For it is in dreams that I am almost always healthy.
It is there where I can still walk, talk, run, dance, travel
and even fly.






What are some of your small candles?

Any photos not my own are courtesy of weheartit.com or gettyimages.com
_____________________________________________________________



Note: I will be offline more than usual in the coming months.  Wishing everyone a wonderful holiday season!


Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Testimony: A Glimpse into Severe ME/CFS

The upcoming CFS Advisory Committee (CFSAC) meeting will be held in Washington on November 8th and 9th. For those who may not be aware, the CFSAC exists to provide recommendations to the Secretary of Health on what directions to take in terms of research, science, care and broader health issues related to ME/CFS.

I had hoped to make another video testimony for presentation at this meeting; however, my health simply did not allow for it at this time. My testimony was therefore submitted in writing. You can find it below.

My goal was to show the faces and tell the stories of some of the more severely ill -- stories about this disease that are not often told. I wanted to do this not to evoke sympathy, but to create awareness and incite action.

Regretfully, I was told the testimony would not be accepted with the inclusion of photographs. I therefore had to resubmit it, excluding the pictures of the patients. However, I am posting my testimony here as it was originally submitted (including the photos) because I think it's so important for people to see our faces.

Much thanks to all those who granted me permission to share their stories and photographs. I am in awe of their strength and spirit.
~~~


Dear ME/CFS Advisory Committee,

Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (ME), often inappropriately referred to as chronic fatigue syndrome (CFS) in the U.S., is a serious and debilitating neuro-immune disease. While cases vary from mild to severe, studies have shown that many patients experience a level of disability equal to that of heart failure or late-stage AIDS.

It has been estimated that 25% of ME/CFS patients are fully disabled --often housebound or bedridden for years on end.

Yet, not many know the full spectrum of the illness because much of the suffering occurs behind closed doors. Patients are often too sick to tell their story. Some are living in darkness, some in silence and some in both. Some have not been able to leave their bed in years. Some struggle to eat, drink, speak and even breathe.

The following are just a few of those patients' stories.

~~~

My name is Laurel. I was 24 years old when I came down with ME/CFS following an infection with mononucleosis. I was active, ambitious, successful and well-educated. I loved travel, adventure and spending time with friends and family.

I never expected, at the prime of my life, to spend over a decade bedridden -- stricken with a horrible disease that has a trivial name and no effective treatments.

I am unable to stand, walk, speak above a whisper or fully bathe and care for myself. I have lost 15 years of my young adult life -- 15 years which can never be retrieved.

~~~


My fiance, Jim, was a former athlete in high school and college who earned a PhD from Carnegie Mellon.

Jim fell suddenly ill at age 19 after developing mononucleosis. He's been sick for almost three decades - more than half his life.

His dreams and ambitions cut short, he's been housebound and unable to work for years. He requires a wheelchair because he can no longer walk. He longs for the day he can run again.


~~~

Nina was struck down with ME/CFS at age 27 following a flu-like illness.

A young woman with many hopes and dreams, her life was suddenly turned upside down. She used to love to dance. Now she is unable to leave her bed and needs constant care.

At one point, Nina became so sick that she was struggling to eat, drink, talk and even breathe. She has been hospitalized several times. Her biggest wish is to be strong enough to sit in a wheelchair again, if only for a couple of minutes.

~~~



Alexis before ME/CFS



Alexis -- an ambitious, successful and energetic young woman -- also fell suddenly ill in her late 20s. She has been sick and housebound for many years now. As a result, Alexis' hopes for her future have all been forced on hold.

Alexis recently suffered a severe setback, rendering her essentially deaf and blind due to the neurological problems imposed on her by severe ME/CFS. She must now live in darkness and silence 24 hours a day/7 days a week.

Her family currently communicates with her using Tactile Fingerspelling – a form of sign language for the deaf and blind. She cannot even tolerate the sound of whispers.


~~~


Ben was a healthy, active 18 year-old when he became suddenly ill following an infection with mononucleosis, which later led to a diagnosis of ME/CFS.

Now 23, Ben is essentially completely bedridden. On a good day, he can take a few steps with a cane. At 6'2 he weighs just 118 pounds. He needs others to wash his hair and cut his food.

Ben spends every day in bed as his friends and peers move on with their lives, doing and experiencing all the things he longs to do but no longer can.

~~~

Marian was a former registered nurse (RN, MSN). She created a company called TrakMed, which provided trackside medical care for many auto racing teams. She partnered with General Motors Racing, providing innovative care for their drivers and teams.

Marian became suddenly ill in her 40s following a flu-like illness. She has been ill with ME/CFS for 10 years and is currently housebound and mostly bedridden. She often has trouble sitting up in bed, and she requires supplemental oxygen to breathe. Her sister, who also suffered from the illness, died of heart failure as a result of ME/CFS at age 49. Marian sometimes worries that she may meet the same fate.
~~~

Emily became ill with ME/CFS when she was just 6 years old. She's now 30. She's been sick for 24 years --almost her entire life.




She writes:"I cannot be washed, cannot raise my head, cannot have company, cannot be lifted from bed, cannot look out of the window, cannot be touched, cannot watch television or listen to music - the list is long. ME has made my body an agonising prison."

Emily's daily life involves medicine/fluid being pumped into her stomach through a tube, various injections, diaper changes, transient paralysis, and pain so severe she sometimes hallucinates.



"This wretched, ugly disease is made all the more so through the scandalous lack of research into its most severe form and the lack of necessary, appropriate support for those suffering from it. This is something that must change."

~~~

Please listen carefully to the testimonies being presented today. Please see our faces, hear our stories and understand our desperate plight. Some of us are quite literally fighting for our lives.

In return, we are not asking for much.

We are simply asking for the basics of what should be expected with any illness:

  • a clear and accurate definition,
  • an appropriate name that doesn't belittle the disease,
  • adequate funding for serious biophysical research,
  • clinical trials of medications in search of treatments and a cure,
  • and increased awareness/education about the true nature of this horrible disease.

That's all. It's what is done for every other illness of equal severity. It's even what is done for illnesses of lesser severity. Why has it not been done for ME/CFS?

We've been waiting 30 years for the government to take action. We cannot wait any longer.

Thank you.

Note: Due to my health, it took me over three months to complete this testimony. All photos and stories are presented with permission.
_________________________________


To read this testimony translated into German (thanks to Nina!), click here.
To read this testimony translated into Dutch (thanks to Zuiderzon!) click here.

March 2012 Update: Tragically, Emily, one of the young women mentioned in this testimony, passed away on March 18, 2012 due to complications from severe ME.