Denial

I had several appointments to see the doctor with the aim of a diagnosis on my condition. I pushed my self to work as I was in denial of what was happening to my body. Depression set in as it seemed there was no way out it may sound cliché but it seemed I as they say a tunnel with no way out. It was a struggle going to work every morning, I would wake up 2 hours before I had to set off for the journey to work. Luckily I lived with my mother so she would wake up with me help to dress me and prepare my breakfast. 

The very very short walk I used to take for granted to the bus stop was now excruciating. What was even worse was the tube travel to my destination; I was faced with the task of climbing the stairs to the platform. By the time I got to work I was ready to go back home and just lay in my bed. This carried on for a week and half so I decided to stop pushing myself and finally give into the illness. Anyway I had to stop working as I developed anaemia on top of the painful symptoms, which meant that my energy levels shifted and I was not the up-beat person I used tobe.

At this point I was attending physiotherapy sessions which only seemed to do more harm than good. So I was told to stop by my GP I was very happy about this as physio involved stretching a yellow plastic band. Eventually I got to see a specialist whom conducted various tests and prescribed medication to help my immune system to stop the inflammation in the joints. This was only the beginning of me accepting my condition but I did not. When asked by friends and family I would actually play down how serious my condition was, still in denial mode.

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