Should I or shouldn’t I? That is the question.

I don’t know what to do.

I’m in a good place at the moment. Despite having a few more pains and discomfort than usual (which I have arranged an appointment with my consultant soon for), I am happy. I’m doing well at work. I’ve pretty much finished my Business Admin course. I’m going out and having fun with my friends and boyfriend. Life is probably better than it ever has been right now.

But I’ve been thinking recently. Well… wondering. Would now be the right time to have a little play around with my medicines/tube feed. Maybe reduce the tablets I take and/or try having more nights off my tube feed.

I’m in a stronger, healthier state now. What if I was to, say, stop using my pump for 4/5 days or even a whole week… What would happen? Will it make me eat more? Probably. But will it make me get ill? Maybe. Is it a risk I’m willing to take? I don’t know.

I will probably talk to my consultant before I do anything but I feel like maybe I should give having a whole week or something off my tube feed a go? Normally I have 1, 2 nights off maximum. I’ve tried a week off before, but it was a few years ago. It didn’t end well. My weight dropped dramatically and I got sick.

I’m at a better weight now. And like I’ve said, I’m much healthier. So maybe a week off the pump wouldn’t do me as much harm?

The important factors I’ve got to take into consideration are weight loss and dehrdration. These two factors could be triggered very quickly from me not eating or drinking enough to keep me going throughout the day. However by not having the feed overnight, maybe I will start feeling like I need to eat and drink more throughout the day, helping me to get the right balance and avoid dehydrating and/or loosing weight.

With the medication side of things, I don’t take a lot of tablets but I still think it would be nice to wean myself off them. But that, again, is something I will talk to my consultant about before doing anything.

I feel like I’m ready to start taking risks with my feed and medication now. But I’ve got to do it carefully and with consideration. It could go one way or another. I guess I won’t know unless I try, will I?

I’m both excited and anxious about doing this. But also I’m still not sure whether to just go ahead and do it.

I know I know my own body and its all my decision, but what do you, my viewers, think?

Should I give it a go?

Katie’s Condition

That’s what the doctors used to call it…

I’ve probably talked about this or similar in the past but I just feel like talking about it again because of an incident that occurred today.

So I went to the doctors to have my flu jab. I have had a flu jab every year for the last few years. Recently, my dad has started having it to because he is practically my carer (although I don’t like the term ‘carer’ in my case as I like to think I’m quite independent when it comes to my care.)

Anyway so.. This happened last year, and I believe it happened the year before that too. My dad received a letter from our doctors surgery inviting him to come down to have his yearly flu jab. I never received a letter. I didn’t last year, or the year before. But I still turn up as I know I’m entitled to it. I’m what they call “high risk” due to my condition and circumstances.

Anyway, today I turned up. I thought that the receptionist would say something along the lines of “you’re not on the list” when I went to book in as this has happened before.

However this time round she looked at her computer and asked me to take a seat. I thought “Brilliant! Finally on the list! 😂”

So I waited for a bit. Then I got called in by the nurse. I walked into to the room with the nurse, noticing that she was giving me slightly curious/weird looks. I sat down in the chair provided right in front of her chair, with the computer sitting next to her.

She then continues looking at me in a slightly odd way before saying “Katie, can you tell me why you should have the flu jab. You’re not high risk or anything. Could you explain your condition?”.

Wow. Part of me felt like saying “just take a look at my notes”. Surely by looking at what I’ve been through is proof enough that I’m entitled to the flu jab.

I didn’t want to seem rude though so I went to explain my condition before hesitating for a few seconds whilst I thought “wait what is my condition?”.

There is no name for what I’ve got in general. So I gave a very brief outline of my life. I was born with my organs on the outside of my body (there is a name for that I know – exomphalos) , I’ve had complications throughout my life resulting in me having major stomach surgery, I now have a tube in my stomach etc etc.

That was luckily enough for her to agree I should have it and proceeded in giving me the vaccine.

I then walked out and went on about my day. Since that moment this morning though, I’ve been thinking. I feel like I’ve explained my story to so many people so many times. (I’m getting a little bit tired of it now not going to lie – maybe I should just show people my stomach when asked what my condition is…. Or better yet carry a sign with me at all times giving certain important factors of my life/condition. It will save a lot of time 😂)

When people ask me what my condition is, I can’t just give them a one word, simple answer like someone who has asthma, or epilepsy for example. Conditions people know. I have to tell my life story. Or give the briefs of it anyway.

Well it’s either that or say the actual – made up – name of it… Katie’s Condition. Like the doctors at Kings used to call it.

Apparently there is no one like me. Well no one who has similar symptoms, consequences and surgeries all together. I find this a little annoying because I can’t give anyone straight answers and not everyone has time to sit and listen to me explaining my life story.

However I guess it makes me kind of unique. One of a kind you might say. As far as I know there’s no one else out there with “Katie’s condition” and maybe I should be kind of proud of that.

My Experience of Stomach Surgery (Part 2)

Following on from part 1…

So I woke up in intensive care. I only remember bits of being in intensive care as every now and then I’d just randomly fall asleep because of all the drugs they were giving me.

I had my own nurse in the unit, who stayed by my side at all times. My dad was given a room near by so if I needed him then the nurse could call to his room and he’d be down in 5 minutes.

I remember feeling frustrated and upset that I couldn’t move or communicate despite being able to hear and see everything. I could basically only communicate with people by blinking and making sounds.

I tried moving even just my fingers, but I physically couldn’t. I remember trying so hard to move, I felt like I used all the energy that I had to try but It was impossible. It was surreal and so scary. I felt like I was locked inside my own body.

I had a tube going down my throat, into my airways to breathe. I was on life support. I drifted in and out of sleep all the time I was there.

Nurses and my family would try to keep me entertained and communicated with me the best they could. Apparently, according to my dad, I’d get the odd foot massage which I loved! 😂

Because I couldn’t communicate verbally, others had to understand what I was trying to say through sounds, and eventually I gained use of one of my hands so I was able to – slightly messily😂- write down what I wanted to say. (I’ve been hunting high and low for the piece of paper which I kept from that time.. Showing what I wrote – or scribbled- on but I can’t find it😩)

For some reason I had an obsession with asking what the time and day was? It got to the point where I didn’t even have to say anything… I’d just look at Dad and he’d be like “it’s half 3 and it’s Saturday” or something hahaha

I don’t have many memories of intensive care.. As I said I was zoning in and out a lot. I remember the feeling of the tube down my throat though. It didn’t hurt nor was it that uncomfortable… Just… Odd. Like every time I swallowed, I just felt a large bit of plastic in my throat. Weird.

Anyway, I’m going to leave it there and keep you guys hanging on… The next chapter of this blog post will involve the next stage… Special care.

My Experience of Stomach Surgery (Part 1)

It’s just hit me. I’ve basically told you the basics of my story on this blog. What I’ve had done, my condition etc.

But I haven’t fully gone through my experience of having surgery… Especially major surgery.

So here I go.. I hope in some way this may help someone going through similar HOWEVER I must say, every patients’ surgery of any kind is different. In my story there may be some hard to read parts as well as positive parts… But that is just my experience. Like I say… It is very important that anyone reading this understands that EVERY surgery is DIFFERENT!

Okay now I’ve put out my disclaimer, back to my surgery story…

I’m not going to talk about my surgeries as a baby as quite frankly.. I can’t remember any of them😂

So I’m going to start with my first major surgery as a 15 year old girl.

At the age of 15 most teenage girls should be preparing for her GCSEs, going out with friends.. Just being a teenager. Unfortunately I didn’t have that experience.

My first surgery as a 15 year old wasn’t major (I was just put to sleep, had a camera put down my throat to examine my insides, and had a picc line inserted) but it was still a little scary. I mean, I was putting my life in someone else’s hands for a few hours!

But all went well. Time went super quick! (I was asleep for most of it so🤷‍♀️😂)

Now… Fast forward a few months after that procedure. My (unofficial) first major surgery. This is the one where I had my organs moved around and I was in theatre for over 10 hours!

Let me start at the very beginning of that day..

6:30am (roughly) : I woke up in my room at the hospital. I didn’t have a great night.. The thought of what was to come imbedded in my mind.

I didn’t know what to do so I just stared at the wall in front of me.. Thousands of thoughts going around in my mind. I heard the night shift nurses quietly having a chat. I heard alarms going off in the distance. I heard my dad snoring away.. Haha.

As I was focusing on all the sounds around me, my nurse popped in to do a few observations. Blood pressure, temperature, that sort of thing. We had a chat, a giggle about dad snoring etc.. I then asked her what time I’m due to go down to theatre. She told me it was still 7am.. As decided the day before.

Once she’d finished my obs she left.. And by this point my dad had woken up. One member of my surgeons team and the anaesthetist came to see me to have a chat and have me and my dad sign a consent form.

As the minutes got closer and closer to 7am… My nerves began to kick in. I felt sick. I was scared. I didn’t want to go through with it but at the same time I knew I had to otherwise I could put myself in danger if I didn’t.

It got to 7am and I hadn’t been summoned.. There must have been a delay or something. I had my gown on and was ready to go. Eventually.. at around 7:15am, my nurse knocked at my door, opened it and said those words that I’d been silently dreading.. “they’re ready for you now”.

After I heard those words, something clicked and everything suddenly felt super real. I felt a wave of nausea and rushed out of my bed, to the nearest outlet that I could be sick in.. The sink in my room. (Sorry for the grossiness)

I burst into tears and started shaking. I knew this was all just nerves, and so did my dad and the nurses. I had to let it ride. I just wanted to stop time there and then, either that or fast forward time to ignore this stage.

I got back into bed once I’d calmed down a bit. I did a few breathing exercises as the porter unclamped my bed and began wheeling me out of my room and down the ward corridor. The rest of the nurses and doctors on shift were at the nurses station all waving me off and saying “good luck” and “you’ll be fine!”. My dad and nurse walked next to me. My dad making bad jokes to try and lighten the situation… As he always does.

We got into the lift and went down to the ground floor. Because it was quite early there was hardly anyone around. It was pretty much silent as I was wheeled towards the surgery department. Once I’d been put in my bay… There was a bit of a waiting period. I had to have checks done again. Asked various questions. Checked my id bracelet. All that Jazz. Dad had to put a gown, hat and special shoe covers on as he was coming into theatre with me (he looked hilarious! 😂)

The time we were in that bay felt really long! Like it felt like it dragged. Eventually though, they were ready for me. No turning back now.

They wheeled me into the theatre. There was a lot of surgeons in there. I think there were specialists for nearly every part of my body (especially my digestive organs). I moved from my hospital bed to the operating table. I felt like crying again and looked at dad. He held my hand and tried to put on a brave face for me but I could tell he was just as scared. The surgeons fitted me up with all the needed equipment, gave me a foil, warm blanket to keep my body temperature stable. They then run through the questions and checks (again! 😂)

The anaesthetist then looked over me and asked if I was ready. I nodded and gripped onto my “lucky” Teddy (I brought him down for luck😅)

Dad was still gripping my hand as a mask was put over my face. The gas smelt and tasted of pear drops. I took their instructions of breathing in… And breathing out… In…. And out… In…. And out.

I started to feel dizzy. The room was spinning. My dad and the surgeons were talking to me but they sounded so distant and echoey. I also had ringing in my ears. I was feeling sleepy… And then suddenly… All was black.

Next thing I know I’m in intensive care….

Stay tuned for part 2☺️

Being known for something different

Before I start I just want to apologise for my last post being quite gloomy. When I’m not well I tend to feel a bit more negative than usual despite my best efforts to stay positive.

Back to this blog post.

I’d you know me, you probably know that I am a massive fan of a certain band… Queen.

I’ve been a big fan for, I would say around 5 years now. I knew of Queen before… Who doesn’t know of Queen?! But I properly became a fan in 2014 after getting a sudden interest in their music and their story as a band.

Anyway… Instead of rambling on about the greatest band that ever lived…. (I won’t be able to stop.. believe me😂) Let me get to the point of this blog post.

Recently, a friend tagged me in a Freddie Mercury related post on Facebook. I get a lot of notifications from friends and family tagging me in all things Queen-related. So much so that I feel that the people I know, now know me as Katie – the big Queen fan and not Katie – the girl who has spent a lot of time in hospital, or Katie – the girl who was born with her organs on the outside of her body, or Katie- the girl with a disability.

I’ve noticed that a lot recently. People know me more for my ‘obsession’. (I say I’m not obsessed but apparently I am🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️😂) with Queen. Not for my past or present.

And I’m not going to lie… I love it! Because it gives me more of a reason to feel ‘normal’! I’m at the stage now where despite being proud of what I’ve achieved and overcome, I’m much happier being referred to as an enthusiastic (I prefer that term😉) fan of an incredible band, rather than a poor, sick girl who has had numerous operations. I don’t like people feeling sorry for me. I’ve had to deal with horrible stuff yes, but everyone goes though their own horrible experiences, all different in their own way.

Come to think of it, why do we sometimes focus on what people have had to go through and know them as that? Why not focus just on how well they have over come it? The positives. Admire their strength, don’t feel sorry for what they’ve been through.

That’s personally the way I think we should look at others.

(this is a photo of me getting ready for my first Queen and Adam Lambert concert last year! 😁🤘)

It’s been a year??! 😱

A year ago today I made the decision to start a blog about my journey. Covering the highs and lows of it all and spreading awareness of Exomphalos, Dextrocardia, Depression, Anxiety and many other aspects of my life.

I can’t believe it’s been a year already!

Thank you to all my followers. Those who follow on here, word press, or on social media (you know who you are😉)

Thank you for all your interactions and support – it means alot!

I do try and upload when I can but sometimes there can be quite the delay in posting so I apologise for that.

Please do continue liking, following and sharing though! I’ve got some new, great content planned for this blog so stay tuned😊

I want to try and get my story across to as many people as possible! Hopefully I can help and assure others who are going through similar whether physically or mentally.

So please, if you read this, like and share this post!

Thank you again! And Happy 1 year to Katie’s Journey! 🥳😁

Katie x

Going back in time… Kinda

On Monday I had an outpatients appointment up at King’s. It was a normal, routine appointment that I now have annually.

This appointment was slightly different to previous years.. Mainly because I didn’t have my parents with me this time.

I didn’t go on my own though, I mean I could have done. And I did think about doing that. I know the route and routine of it all. I’m fine doing it all on my own. I’m 22 for God’s sake, and it’s not like I’ve not been there before (I’ve had like almost 7 years experience😂)

But I didn’t. I took my boyfriend with me this time. And I’m pleased I did, as even though I said I could do it on my own, it was nice to have some company ☺️

The journey was fine, we went on the train. We ended up getting to King’s just over an hour before my appointment as per. (I’ve always allowed extra time to travel there because of delays)

So we grabbed a quick drink and sat and chat for a bit. Then, because we still had a bit of time left I decided to go up to the ward I was on 6 or so years ago. The ward that played a massive part in my recovery. I wanted to see wether the staff who were there when I was there, were still there. I wanted to say hello. I knew it was unlikely that I would see a few staff, if anyone, but I wanted to try.

So we went up to the third floor (the floor in which my ward was on).. In the lift I felt all these memories flooding back. I remembered how many times I had used that exact lift, wether by walking, in a wheelchair or even in a bed.

The lift got to my floor, I walked out.. And forgot what way I needed to turn to get to the ward. I couldn’t remember wether it was right or left😂😂.

I quickly remembered though and turned left, making my way towards the ward. We buzzed in, used the hand gel they provided at the entrance and walked towards the front desk. The ladies at the desk I did not recognise and they did not know who I was. They asked “can I help you” and I explained that I used to be a patient in this ward and I’ve come to say hello.

They were lovely and chatted to me, whilst explaining that a lot of the staff who were around when I was there had moved on elsewhere. However there was one nurse there, who I hadn’t seen since probably 2014. The ladies called him and gestured over towards me. He looked at me a tad confused. But when I said my name he was like “omg Katie!!”😂 He asked me how I was, what I was doing now. He also pointed out the letter from the Queen I sent them (I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned that on here yet.. But I’ll probably reminise about it soon anyway!) After a bit of chatting, I had to go as it was getting closer to my appointment. I said my goodbyes and the nurse told me that he will mention that I came in to the others😁

Once I’d left the ward, I felt so happy. A little gutted that I hadn’t seen many people but I’m glad I got the chance to see one, and he will let the others know that I came in☺️

My appointment itself went okay. I didn’t see my actual consultant, but I saw her registrar. She was lovely.

I talked to her about the size and shape of my stomach and asked if I could have physio or something to help bring it in but she said that because of the way my stomach muscles are shaped and placed, physio wouldn’t do anything. I can try basic stomach exercises. But that’s it really. She also said that my stomach could increase in size in the future but there’s nothing I can really so about it. I’m okay with that at the moment, but obviously in the future if it start affecting me physically or mentally then I might have to consider other options if there are any.

She also suggested that I could be discharged if I wanted to be. As there’s nothing more that they can do for me and I am in a stable condition now. I said no. Mainly because I know, god forbid I was to relapse or just suddenly get extremely unwell, instead of going to the GP or A&E – who won’t know about my condition – I can call my consultants secretary up and get an appointment, or admitted to a ward at Kings ASAP. I’d rather have that back up if needed. After all, I am a complex case.

I guess it’s a good thing that I have the option to be discharged from the hospital after all these years as it shows I’m now stable and in a good place. Although, the other option is to stay put. Even if it means seeing my consultant once a year. I’d rather that than have trouble seeing someone who knows what they’re talking about in an emergency. Staying as a patient is one thing I am entitled to which I will accept. I think it’s the safer option. I’m happy where I am.

Humour Helps: The saga continues (or as my dad wanted me to call it – “Hospital Funnys”)

I thought I’d make my next blog post a part two of my post made a couple on months ago, “Humour Helps”.

The reason being is that I’ve just been reminiscing with my dad about my times in hospital… As a baby and most recently. He’s told me a few tales some of which I do remember, others I don’t (mainly the baby ones) and I thought I’d share some of them with you😊

So, let’s begin..

The flying dummy

Yes…. You read that right. This tale involves me (as a baby) and a dummy which resulted in my parents and my nurse becoming speechless, confused and yet… amused.

As I think I’ve mentioned before, due to the nature of my condition and surgeries I was having, I was kept in hospital for 6 months when I was born. As I’ve always been told – I was born on the hottest day of the year and came home on the coldest day of the year. And on a few occasions, I was kept in an open incubator to allow room for my organs to slowly, with the help of a bull dog clip and pen, gravitate into my body.

Due to the surgery and because I was very fidgety (like most babies I assume), I had to basically be strapped down so I didn’t move. (by strapped down I mean my legs and arms were taped down so that I wouldn’t touch my stomach) Also because I couldn’t intake orally, I was given a dummy/pacifier with the aim that it would feel like I was eating/drinking.

However, after a while of having this dummy/pacifier I apparently realised that I wasn’t gaining from this device. I was not in taking food or anything. I decided I didn’t want it anymore didn’t I. So… and my parents still aren’t sure how I done this… I shot this dummy out of my mouth, up into the air, across the room and towards the crib far opposite me…

So basically I shot a dummy from my mouth to the other side of the room. Bare in mind I was not that close to other babies, there was no one else in the room and my hands and feet were taped down… How the hell did I manage that?

Apparently my dad, my mum and the nurse just looked into the room from the corridor in disbelief🙈😂

Folding the newspaper

Okay so in this story I apparently am about 1 and a half years old. Me and my parents were attending a hospital appointment.

My dad was sitting there, reading a newspaper when he glanced down at me who was looking at the newspaper as well as looking up at him. I made it clear that I wanted that newspaper… So my dad gave it to me and positioned my hands as if I was holding it from both sides.

Now apparently I tried really hard to at least look like I was reading it (by moving my head side to side😂) during which, a few staff members and a couple of patients noticed and started cooing and giggling at me. I must have noticed this because apparently I somehow managed to bend my thumbs over, neatly bending over the newspaper enough so my little head was peering over the top…. And I just glared at those laughing at me… With a stern look on my face.

It’s safe to say I had the whole waiting room in stitches…. 😂(excuse the medical pun)

Mischevious Ted

Fast forward a few years to the age of 15/16…. I still like to entertain my fellow patients, carers and nurses/doctors the best I can during what can be a stressful and difficult time.

This time it involved my beloved Teddy at the time, Lucky. Yes I called it Lucky because I won it at a tombola a good few years back and it felt like an appropriate toy to bring with me to hospital, to hopefully bring some kind of luck whilst I was going through all sorts.

Now, Lucky was involved in many shenanigans…. But I think this is one of the best moments.

So I was in my own room at this point. I was stable, getting by. And the day nurses were getting to the end of their shift and so were doing their ward rounds whilst showing the night nurses what the day had in store for the patient and what’s to be involved in their night care.

When my day nurse got to me, she stood in front of the door to my room. The night nurses gathered round her, facing her and the closed door. My nurse began her serious talk on what medicines I was on, what my care was etc..

During which my dad decided to ask me if he should take Lucky and make him peer through the window in the door… Of course I said yes! 😂

So.. My dad picked up Lucky and proceeded to make him “walk” and “wave” in the window of the door. All we heard was the night nurses laughing and the day nurse being like “what? I’m just giving you a list of her medication and does… What’s so funny?” 😂😂😂

After the ward round, my day nurse came to my room and told me and my dad that she was so confused as to why everyone was laughing at her serious talk about me and my condition.. Until she turned around and saw a bear waving to them in the window🙈😂😂

And I think I’m going to leave that there for now…. I’m sorry its only 3 stories but I’m getting a bit tired reminiscing and typing😅😂

I have plenty more stories to tell though so stay tuned😉

Moving on

I saw this quote shared on Facebook and my first thought was “that’s me!”.

I’ve had moments where I’ve thought why have I had to go through so much? Why was I born the way I was? Why have I had to go through numerous operations and treatments? Why me? So many “Whys”.

What have I done to deserve all the pain I’ve been though, both physically and mentally?

It may sound selfish and yes, there are people who have been through so much worse and are in a worser state than me. However that has been the way Ive felt in the past. Now that my “hospital life” is behind me (or so I think) I am able to live a normal life (as I’ve said many times before😂) Although, a normal life for me hasn’t all been easy. I’ve had moments where I compare my life now to how it used to be. And not in a “my life used to be bad now it’s good” kinda way. In a “why can’t my life go back to the way it used to be as that’s when I felt like ‘katie’ despite being in hospital” (see my ‘Finding Katie’ blog post).

But recently, I haven’t really felt that way. My past seems like a distant memory now. I’m focusing on now and my future. I’m not focusing on how I used to be and most importantly, I’m not wondering ‘why me? And’ Why was I given this life? ‘

Because, like this quote says; I was given this life because I am strong enough to live it. I’ve battled a hell of a lot, and it’s been hard at times. But I’ve ALWAYS got through it. 22 years and still fighting and going strong!

Behind the scenes

I’ve said before…many times.. That I basically have an invisible illness. A lot of people would not know what I’ve been through if I never said anything.

I hide it well I suppose. There’s a few common, every day, symptoms that people may see me have. For example.. I might hold my back as I’m having a bit of back pain (although I don’t always like to admit it) or my unstoppable hiccups which appear out of the blue and are funny at first but can get pretty annoying😂

But.. There’s also a few that people don’t see me suffer from. Because I hide it well from others.

There’s one particular symptom or cause of condition that I don’t talk about often. It’s because im not too sure how to explain it and plus… I’ve been a bit embarrassed about it I guess. But today I’m going to share with you what happens behind the scenes, when I’m at home (sometimes out and about but that is very very rare). The only people who really know about it and support me through it is my mum, dad and brother…. Because they live with me and so I can’t really hide it from them.

Okay… Now I’m going to stop rambling and get on with it😂 Basically… You’ve heard me talk about my ‘bad spells’ before, but I’ve mainly explained what I’ve been like on a bad day. I don’t talk about these “fits” that I have.

I’ve literally only just recovered from one of my regular ‘fits’ which is one of the reasons why I felt like I want to talk about it now… Whilst it’s all fresh in my mind.

I think the easiest way of explaining this to explain what has literally just happened.

So… I was sitting down on the sofa with my family eating our dinner. We’d finished and took our plates out. As i sat, letting my dinner get down I started to feel funny… I felt a bit faint, my chest was tightening and I started to feel sick. I knew what was coming…. And I’m sorry in advance if it gets a bit too.. Eurgh… 😅😂

I had to retch. Not vomit… But retch. I can’t physically vomit anyway. (because of the surgery I’ve had). I then went into a state of repetition retching. I couldn’t stop. I also started shaking and my body was… Tensing and Pulsing (not sure if that’s the right word). I was also starting to feel hot. I know it would be over in a few minutes and I’ll be fine… I just had to persevere with it… In fact the more I retched… The better I felt over time.

Once the retching had stopped, my body had relaxed and I had started to cool down. I did some simple breathing exercises to calm down… And now I’m absolutely fine! Whilst this was happening my mum was around if I really needed her but she, like the rest of the family, know that all they need to do is let me get on with it. I’ve learnt to control it so it doesn’t last long. I know what to do.

This normally happens when I’m at home fortunately. If I’m out and about and I feel a bad fit/spell coming on I tend to try my hardest to conceal it. Although sometimes that’s not always possible..

But yeah… I just thought I’d share some behind-the-scenes. Its not something I bring up often and it’s not something I enjoy talking about as it reminds me that I have a weakness. But… Talking about it here… Has made me realise its not a weakness… Its just a challenge that I always overcome 😁