Monday 18 October 2010

Contaminated Blood House of Commons Debate - 14.10.10

Around 100 of us crowded into the public gallery in the House of Commons last Thursday to hear a historic back bench debate on contaminated blood products.  Haemophiliacs and von Willebrands, infected and affected, wives and husbands, families of those too sick to be there and widows and children of those who have died.

We had come to London with a sense of anticipation, a sense of hope that after over 20 years of campaigning and the loss of 1974 lives, we were finally being met by a government who stood for fairness.  A government who had indicated from the PM down that they wanted to help us to bring closure to the victims, of what has been described as the "worst treatment disaster in the history of the NHS" by Lord Robert Winston.

It started with a worrying turn of events.  The government tried to amend the original debate motion.  Not to change a couple of words within it, but to re-write it, bar the first three words "That this house...".  The government wanted to take out the acknowledgement of past failures and limited response so far to the tragedy, wanted to take out the proposal to implement Lord Archer's inquiry recommendations; even wanted to remove the apology to the survivors, their families and the bereaved.  In its place their amendment merely recognised the [inadequate] recompense that had been provided by previous administrations, estimated the cost of implementing the Archer recommendations as being £3 billion, pledged to review some of those recommendations and deeply regretted that many people were infected by contaminated blood products.

We were shocked and dismayed by this attempt to wreck our motion.  However the speaker ruled that as this was a back bench debate the original motion should not be amended by front benchers and that our debate would go on as it was.

Hooray we thought.  There followed three hours of passionate, personal and moving 5 minute statements from 24 MPs, all of whom had put in to speak at the debate.  The support and understanding we had from MPs of all parties was amazing. There was no arguing over the basic facts about what happened, no dispute that here we had a terrible medical scandal that resulted in a human catastrophe and great need. There was no argument about the fact that a proper financial settlement and hopefully an apology was required urgently. I say urgently because, as was pointed out by one MP people continue to die at the rate of one per week. We don't have time to hang around whilst politicians play games.

MPs paid tribute to members of our community who have died and to those who are still waiting and dying.  Whilst tears were shed in the gallery I was horrified to see two front bench MPs talking and laughing as Owen Smith spoke of Leigh Sugar, a haemophiliac from Wales who died from Hepatitis C earlier this year.  Where was the respect there?

It was debated as to why we had referred to the scheme in the Republic of Ireland, as this was felt to be too generous for the government to commit to.  It was said more than once during the debate that this was put into the motion because it was what the campaigners had wanted.  To an extent this is true, but that is because it was the bottom line for compensation that was cited by Lord Archer in his private inquiry report - a report largely ignored by government and one that the judicial review earlier this year compelled them to revisit.

What the victims of this tragedy want is a settlement that is fair and adequate - a settlement that treats this group with decency and respect and ensures that what remains of our ruined lives is spent at least financially secure.  Ireland's settlement which was implemented in 1996, and is still being honoured despite their financial difficulties, is one that is considered appropriate for the nature of the difficulties victims face.

As one of our campaigners recently said:
'You can't give us back our health, but you can give us back our dignity'.

The greatest despair though, came with the government's apparent inability to work out simple maths.  The question was how did the government arrive at the figure of £3 billion that was in their amendment, and that was their estimated cost of putting in place a similar compensation scheme.  The calculations were apparently accurate but were not able to be produced during the debate.  We are still waiting to see them.  We believe the costs to be far lower. 

We are well aware as a community that the timing on this is far from ideal however it is important to note that the reason we were infected by these devastating viruses was not least because the government diverted money away from developing self-sufficiency within the UK blood products production.  Money was not made available then, over thirty years ago and on many occasions since then when finances were there, administration after administration has ducked responsibility.  We haven't just turned up wanting a hand out.  For years successive governments have ignored the issue. It's not about party politics, it's about doing the right thing and it's about time that the victims of this disaster are given what they deserve - justice.

This was all acknowledged at the debate and the need to act now, in the name of justice and moral responsibility, was stressed time and again. 

However the vote was lost.  Why was this?  Because the government had produced a three line whip.  This compelled over 200 MPs who had not necessarily even attended the debate to come and vote against it when the bell rang.  It also meant that my own MP spoke passionately for us, but voted against us.

We appreciate that times are tight and that a cost in excess of £3 billion at this time of comprehensive spending reviews and cuts may be seen as irresponsible.  However what about getting your sums right before trying to write us off?

We are not a greedy, compensation grabbing bunch of individuals - we are genuinely sick, dying, unable to contribute to society the way we could and to look after our families the way we want, because we received contaminated blood products from the NHS.  All we want is to not have to fight for justice anymore and to have our losses recognised.  It wasn't right then, it isn't right now and we won't be going anywhere.

What we came away with is the promise to review the situation by Christmas.  The present government have the opportunity to put this right and they need to know that we will never give up.

Fairness, Mr Cameron?  Mr Clegg?  Let's see some at last.


Friday 17 September 2010

HCV and Me - An Affair To Forget

You came into my life insidiously.
Like a demon you crawled under my skin,
through my veins and into the heart of me.

Unaware of the danger I plunged on,
not understanding what it was
I was introducing to myself.

You were there
from the very beginning,
intrinsically part of me.

But I knew nothing.
Ignorant of how you were taking over my body,
destroying my soul.

When, later on, I discovered you,
you blew me away.
Turned me upside down
dragged me inside out.
Possessing.
Obsessing.

Flung my life in an unexpected, unbalanced direction.
You exposed my dark and twisted self.
I was never to be the same.

I railed and fought to resist
the all encompassing nature 
of your poison.

Yet you clung to me,
weighing me down,
changing me,
infecting me,
draining me.

Now am I free of you?
Are you gone?
Have you left me, in peace?

Or still dangling,
turning like a body hanging from a tree,
waiting for the wind to pick me up
and play with me once again.

I hate you.
For the gifts you gave me.
The tumultuous emotional tornado,
the paralysing physical pain.

But you made me.
Who I am.
You are still hidden within.

There will always be a fragment of me
devoted to you.

Friday 10 September 2010

Bleed Hazards

As a type 3 von Willebrand, life is like a box of chocolates. One which has been sabotaged by an ex lover and is filled with poisoned soft centres and pebble filled truffles which will break your teeth.

Being a severe bleeder, activities which are undertaken without a second thought by a non bleeder, to me can be high risk activities. A high risk, that is, of causing bleeding or bruising.

This is my top 10 11 list of everyday, bleed inducing things:

Ferocious Fodder:
1.  Fruit - apple skin is one of the most efficient ways of getting a gum bleed. The safest way for me to eat an apple is to cut bite size chunks off with a very sharp knife... Don't worry, I wear Teflon gloves. Bananas can have the same effect if they are a little unripe, which is, of course how I like them.
2.  Puff pastry - the equivalent of eating razor blades, very dangerous to gums, tongue and inside cheeks. Ruins the enjoyment of a good pastry.
3.  Muffins - surprisingly risky - had 18 hours of gum action following a particularly chippy bit of chocolate in a muffin the other day.
4.  Sandwiches - a crusty roll has obvious dangers. Crusty bread equally so. However I have bled from an encounter with the softest fluffiest baps filled with only egg mayonnaise, perhaps it was the cucumber...

Personal Mean Hygiene:
5.  Tooth brushing - most common cause for me of gum and tongue bleeding. I've been told many times by many dentists that brushing more frequently will reduce the overall bleeding tendency - I can tell you I've put this thoroughly to the test and it's nonsense: more brushing = more bleeding - fact. I am still to try the Sonicare toothbrushes that have been recommended by a fellow bleeder - I will let you know how that goes...
6.  Flossing - not something I relish as this is akin to running wire thro mozzarella.
7.  Hair removal - waxing, plucking, epilating, even hair removal creams can cause anyone to bleed or bruise - with a type 3 von Willebrand this can be to very dramatic effect. Legs which turn purple upon waxing may be a little alarming for your beautician. My current preferred method of defuzzment - epilation - even post clotting factor treatment can leave my legs covered in petechiae. My first ever attempt to shave my legs as a naive teenager resulted in a blood soaked kitchen (I know, weird choice) and a cover story about dropping a knife and it impaling my shin - not sure that was ever actually believed!

Household Sore Chores:
8.  Painting - an activity I used to enjoy is now more risky due to a spot of ceiling painting which caused a shoulder bleed. This has weakened my shoulder and it has a tendency to bleed if used to decorate. No really, it does.
9.  Correspondance - writing letters, whilst now an old fashioned activity is also a hazardous one for me. Paper cuts from the writing paper is common and if you've had letters from me they may well have contained at least one of my bloody prints - I'm never gonna get away with murder, I'm far too forensically generous. Licking the envelope slices my tongue into strips. Stamps used to stick to my lips and rip them into bleeding. Owwee. Thank goodness for self adhesiving ones I say.

Medical Maladies:
10.  Plaster removal - luckily I'm not allergic to latex having such an aggressive plaster habit. However removing a plaster is in itself a dangerous job and whilst ripping it off in one smooth, swift motion is ideal from a pain point of view, it is a perfect way to cause post plaster bruising. Nice.
11.  Medic alert - it is ironic that a medic alert bracelet, worn continuously in case of emergency because it just might save my life, causes bruises and burns. If I lean on my hand and the bracelet is in the wrong place it bruises me, this most commonly occurs when I'm injecting clotting factor into that arm. When stirring a hot pan of food the bracelet heats up so quickly I don't notice until it's branding me with "Von Willebrands Disease (Type 3)". I suppose that's one way to avoid having to wear it in future...



Friday 27 August 2010

Ichabod is itchy ...

... and so, the blinking heck, am I!!  

This time of night is a particularly pleasant time for me.  Every night is the same; though it is worse if I am more tired.  Basically I formicate.  Every night.  And it isn't fun.  It's ... hang on a mo ... that is not what I said ... scrape yourself out of the gutter and pay attention ... formicate, I said formicate.  

Here an itch, there an itch - everywhere an itch itch

Formication, according to the wordly-wise wonder that is Wikipedia, is derived from formica, the Latin word for ant.  Formication is the medical term for a sensation that resembles that of insects crawling on (or under) the skin.  Formication is a well-documented symptom that has numerous possible causes. 

She itches here ... she itches there ...

For me, my formication habit began when I had my interferon treatment for Hepatitis C, back in 1999.  It was one of a glut of delightful side effects which still lingers long after that original year of treatment.  The definition - which I only had from my CFS specialist this last year - is uncannily accurate.  If you will: imagine hundreds of ants crawling just underneath your skin (horror movie stylee).  However, they are not just in one spot.  Imagine those subdermal ants crawling on the top of your right foot, for a couple of seconds, then on the inside of your left ear lobe, then on the back of your right index finger, then across your stomach, then your left shoulder blade, then just under your eyes.  Uncomfortable yet??

The Itchy and Scratchy Ros

This pretty much describes the sensations I get when I'm in bed every night trying to go to sleep.  As you can imagine I'm kind of a whirling dervish underneath the duvet, rubbing here, itching there, eee ooo aaa, can't reach the scratchy little devils!!  And no, there are no bedbugs or other actual nibbly, crawly creatures - it is, quite literally all in my head .. and all over my body.  Nice.  I've got so used to them now that I've affectionately and somewhat derangedly dubbed them my "itchy buggers".

To Itchycoo Park that's where I've been.
What did you do there?
I got high
What did you feel there?
Well I cried
But why the tears there?
I'll tell you why
It's all too beautiful
It's all too annoying
It's all too itchying

It is peculiar that I never really get visitations from the itchy buggers during the day.  I often scratch my face to shreds because I have the sensation of an eyelash or a strand of hair on my skin and no matter how hard I try I can't get rid of it, but that's because there's nothing there.  I think that sensation is probly related, but it is only at night that the formication fun really begins.

You scratch my back, I'll scratch my back and leg and neck and toe...

I've spoken to my GP as to why it is I might be getting formicated and they didn't have many suggestions as to what the cause could be, but they did say that it was a common side effect of drug withdrawal.  Hmmm.  The CFS occupational therapist who took my symptom, one I hardly thought worth mentioning, and gave it a name - told me that it might be liver related but also wondered if it could be caused by something in the blood products I constantly inject.  The former was also the opinion of the Chinese acupuncturist that I saw earlier in the year - she saw the crawling as a sign of a toxic liver.  This made sense to me given the Hep C, the interferon and ribaviron I've had over the years.  However when asking the liver doctors they say my liver results are not too bad and my biopsy 10 years ago showed only mild inflamation.  All good but no suggestions of why I might have this problem or what I could do to solve it.

I got it bad, scratch fever

I'd be interested to know if anyone else with CFS or Hep C has this ant-astic issue.  I'm sure it's related to the treatment or the Hep C but I have no absolute proof or concrete evidence to back this wild claim up.

Well fate can be cruel
Life may be a bitch
But that's not an excuse
For my eleven-year itch

Treatment-wise I am now on a sedative type of drug - Phenegran - to help me sleep and this sometimes keeps the itchiness down to a more tolerable level.  However, having had my dose earlier this evening and having already taken my pain-killers for tonight, the itchy buggers have been fairly active during my writing this post.  Inspiring little blighters.


(Mis-quotes all my own)

Thursday 5 August 2010

Foiblicious

If you know me, you'll be aware that I have a number of foibles, slight peculiarities, idiosyncrasies, anal tendencies, eccentricities.  I believe they are worth celebrating.

This is a list of those that spring to my mind:
  • curtains - when they are drawn they need to hang straight - thinking about it, this applies when they are open too.  I think this only applies at home - I've never found myself manhandling another's curtains.
  • toilet rolls - need to hang away from the wall and if you find yours has turned around it may be because I visited your smallest room - can't help being hands on with this one.  Why it's preferable to having the roll stroking the wall as it dangles, I don't know.
  • singing - you may just have heard me do this ;) - any song on the radio / TV will impregnate my brain and be sung for hours (sometimes, and very annoyingly, days) afterwards.  If I hear a word or phrase that comes from a song, I'll be singing it within minutes, often without even realising what the trigger was.  My work colleagues used to do this on purpose, for fun.  Last weekend it was Friday I'm in Love all weekend following a friend's Facebook status update.
  • upside down opening - I have, for as long as I can remember, opened all packaging which has a right side up, up side down.  Malteaser bags, crisp packets, bags of pasta, packets of sanitary towels etc.  I think this stemmed from an early recognition that if a bag of summat had a hole at the top used to hang the item on a display - if opened  the right way up this hole would result in the packet splitting down the side and half the stuff inside flying out.  Solved by opening upside down.  This soon mutated to any and all packets.
  • talking to myself - I do this all the time, because I spend a lot of time alone perhap??  Weirdly I catch myself doing it without even realising - usually in the supermarket or wandering down the street.  Then I tell myself off.  Out loud.
  • talking to inanimate objects - I talk to the trees, but they do not listen to me.  No really, I do talk to things - vegetables, furniture, plants, doors, taps, bits of my body.  Maybe I enjoy not getting a response.
  • sound effects - I provide sound effects.  Why?  No idea.  Didn't even know I did it until a friend at work pointed it out one day.  Then realised I do it all the blooming time.  If a door creaks I'll do a creaky noise.  If driving round a bend I'll emit a skidding sound effect.  If driving a trolley around a corner I'll do the same.  If I see a ball bounce I'll produce a boing.
  • talking for things - I not only talk to the animals, but for them as well.  I must have watched too much Johnny Morris as a child because if I see an animal - a cat on a street, a goose in a field, a duck on a river - I talk to them and then I reply for them, with appropriate animal / bird voice.  I can have quite a splendid little conversation this way.  
  • talking for babies - I also cannot help but do this for babies too.  If a baby's playing with something I will provide a commentary - what I imagine baby to be thinking.  I guess what they would say when they look at you askance (which is probably because you are having a conversation with yourself).  I can't help myself and enjoy trying to figure out what they might say if only they could.  Probably irritating as hell for the parents.  I think this stems from at the age of 6 wishing I could do the voices for Count Duckula or Mighty Mouse.
  • silliness - no explanation needed here, think the foibles above are testament to this.  I am a silly billy and I am not ashamed.
  • word play - I like to make new words.  Taking existing words and changing them a little.  For instance Foibilicious.  Can't think of any more at the moment but I know there are squillions.
If you know of others I've omitted, please feel free to comment thus.  I'm sure there are more....

If you'd like to comment a list of your own - that would be fascinating :)
 

Tuesday 27 July 2010

CONTAMINATED

Cruel, blood bourne virus
What did they do to deserve you?
Which batches of life saving treatment
Concealed you, left you waiting
To cause your devastation
For years and years and years?

Like characters on a stage
The infected ones play their part
In this real-life tragedy.
Life, death, love, suffering
Is their plot; performance not rehearsed
But delivered with anger and passion.

No producers here; the cast
Of thousands, self-selected, whittled down
To those with energy and drive.
Scene shifters, lighting and stage crew 
Keep this show on the road.
Masking grease paint conceals the hurt.

Already numbed by disease
Each waits to speak their lines.
No first night nerves as they plead
For help to make their lives bearable.
Contamination tortures their minds
As well as their bodies.

Dave calls for justice,
Through letters, emails, talks;
Peter challenges through court;
If his legal aid stops, his case
May be dismissed; already cloaked
In anger, they fight on.

Paul's health brings him close to death,
His chance of life a liver transplant.
Fred waits with him, friendly, supportive,
Although a fellow sufferer, he drives Paul
Ninety miles to hospital.
Life must go on.

Widowed Maureen mourns
Her husband's tragic death,
Remortgages the house for income.
Ros, fatigued and aching from her
Bone-rotting treatment
Waits to find active life again.

Simon speaks of stigma
Suffered by his family.
Cheerfully he continues, with David,
To follow up, research any avenue
Which may open, shed new light 
On this complicated drama.

Their performance fall on deaf ears;
The ever-changing bureaucratic audience
In the best paid seats, listen
Fall asleep, bored by this tangled plot
Of anger and emotion,
Difficulty and hardship.

The players in turn re-think, rehearse,
Soliloquies become entreaties:-
"Won't someone listen, please?
We may be amateurs but
Is our performance not worthy?
Does no-one understand?"

Mouse-Trap like, this show runs and runs.
Never a best seller, the dedicated actors
Replace those dying, as the years
Roll by in agony.
Within a waiting audience a few
Applaud their efforts.

The somnolent bureaucrats slowly wake,
Not altogether ignorant of the facts;
The players wait to hear reaction,
Hoping for a final performance
Of the wrong that can never be righted.
This injustice must be recognised.

And I, like the prompt, sit in the wings
Night after night
Listening to every word,
Waiting expectantly for the final curtain,
The thunderous applause of justice
In recognition of this long running show.




Juliet Batten                   July 2010
Some names have been changed, some are who they are...

Monday 19 July 2010

Blood Sweat and Tyres 2010

'Blood, Sweat & Tyres’ was started in 2005 and is off-road mountain-biking dedicated to raising money and awareness for 'The Haemophilia Society'. 

Trails are selected to be physically demanding in order to be worthy of sponsorship, but with the objective of giving both an extremely enjoyable and rewarding experience for the riders.

The Haemophilia Society was established in 1950 and is the national charity in the UK of and for people with Haemophilia, von Willebrand's and related bleeding disorders. It has over 4,000 members and a network of 16 local groups throughout the UK. It provides information, advice and support services and advocates; and campaigns to secure the best possible care and treatment.

For more information please visit the official Haemophilia Society web site at:






The details for this year's ride are as follows:

2010 - South Downs Way 

This year BST regular Raj Patel is organising a ride along the South Downs Way - 100 miles from Winchester to Eastbourne over the weekend of 7th & 8th August 2010.










Raj is looking for riders to join him, Mike (another BST regular) and Dan and raise more money for The Haemophilia Society.

Any volunteers??

More details can be found on the Blood Sweat and Tyres website:  

Blood Sweat and Tyres 2010

If you'd like to sponsor the riders the official just giving page can be found here:

JustGiving - South Downs

It's a very worthy cause....

Monday 5 July 2010

Contaminated Blood Demonstration 30-06-2010

This week I attended the Contaminated Blood demonstration in London.  This is my account of the event:

Karen and I and wheely bags.
Train from Kiddy
pork pie and sandwiches.
Change at Smethick
Disappearing train
What the... where d'it go??
Next one appears
Will we make connection?
Two minutes to spare,
cross platform onto London train.
Phew.
Oh no.
Fatality on the line.
Diversion via Stafford
north to go south.
Educate woman on train
She wishes us luck.
Late arrival.
Tube across London
meet Cheryl
bus to Southfields
meal.
Exhaustion.

Up and out
Sun is bright and we are early.
Good journey in
Meet mum and dad at cafe.
Walk to Trafalgar Square
see ship in a bottle on a plinth.
Seemingly hundreds of people
reporters
cameras
busy organised activity.
Donning t-shirts
erecting banners
distributing placards
and we're off...


Snake way down street
get attention from some
Blatant ignore-ance from others.
Walk, limp, wheel.
Hand out leaflets
explaining our cause.
Meet new campaigners,
catch up with friends,
remember too many now gone.



Congregate outside Downing Street
leave room for people to pass.
Would you like a leaflet?
Mostly taken.
Some don't look us in the eye
and walk on -
silence is violence.
Policeman doesn't move us on,
he has haemophiliac son.

Small delegation to number 10
led by Lord Morris
hand in letters and a wreath
representing those we've lost to contaminated blood.
Photos taken
interviews given.


Back on the street
on to the Houses of Parliament.
Problems getting in.
No t-shirts
No banners
No placards
No leaflets
Not allowed.
Remove t-shirts,
put placards and banners in ring-fenced pen,
leaflets stuffed in bag.
Why-ever is this necessary?

Queue in heat
hot
thirsty
tired.
Through security,
very late for meeting
rush to room 4a.
Lord Morris still speaking,
heads popping in and out
"We have booked this room".
Need us out,
Still ours right now.
"Proportion of those infected
who've since died
greater than that of Black Death."
This is our Red Death. 
And still no justice.

Must leave room
mill around in corridor
try to ascertain plan for the rest of the day.
Arrange to meet MP in central lobby
make way there,
wait.
Lots of us
waiting.

MP comes.
Introduce mum, dad and Karen.
He offers tour,
is this time waster?
Seems not, so we accept.
Through into House of Lords
red, ornate, grandeur,
round to terrace on Thames
back into House of Commons
masses of records
floor to ceiling
past library
round back of speakers chair
gargantuan statues of previous PM's.
Good god!
Maggie quite horrific.

Onwards under Bridge Street
through tunnel, like tube station
I say,
and there it is
MP's own private entrance to tube.
Up and out into Portcullis House,
cost millions to build, apparently.



Tea and business.
Explain our situation
stress how long we've been battling governments
and losing friends.
Show him letters
articles written over the years.

He asks what we actually want,
specifics.
Talk about money
on-going support and lump payments,
input into future treatment decisions,
everything in Lord Morris's Bill.
Will he support EDM?
No.
They are government graffiti.
What will he do??
Stresses his support of our campaign,
will attempt to get written question,
asking government to clarify their position.
I will send him the bill and David Cameron's letter.
Mum's a cynic.
Understandably.
I feel quietly optimistic.
I think...

We leave.
Search out others.
Share experiences,
pints,
support.


So much more to do.


Tuesday 29 June 2010

Friday 18 June 2010

Joking apart ...

People tell me I have a positive outlook on life.  During my life I've been told this a fair few times.  I usually think nothing of it and thank them.  Recently, however, I've begun to question myself.  Do I??

I decided long ago never to walk in anyone's shadow.  Actually that was Whitney not me, it ain't a bad philosophy but it ain't mine.  My decision was to follow Eric and Ernie in thinking there should be more happiness in this world.  To apply Brian's philosophy to look for the glint of hope in even the biggest piece of poo that life deals us.  Thus I've tried to face most challenges with a smile and used my sense of humour to distract myself from difficulties.

Recently I find myself wondering if the sh*t really is just that - sh*t.  And mebbe I've known that all along.  Have I just been kidding myself??  Is my positivity a sham?  A facade?  Am I actually full of sh*t??

Maybe hearing people say too often - it's amazing how positive you are - begs the question, why the hell am I?  And then, in fact ... am I?  Or is it a discipline I've adopted for so long I'm smothered in layers and layers of positive attitude and unable to see the real Ros, whoever and whatever she may be?  Whatever and however she may feel.

Maybe upbeat-ism it is my shield of steel?  Maybe I wear my carefree cape for protection?  To protect me from delving deep into my deepest darkest innermost feelings??  Where reality could be pain and disappointment and gut wrenching inadequacies.  To protect me from honesty?  Or to protect others perhaps?  From having to hear about it.  From perhaps feeling pity, or sympathy, or guilt, or disgust?  Not feelings I'd want to engender in anyone.  I don't want that.  Not any more.

Perhaps I actually am this damn perky?  Perhaps I do laugh out loud in the supermarket, sing when I feel lonely and smile in the dark.  Maybe my antidote to the less fun stuff is positivity and hope?  What's wrong with that?  Is that not the best way to be?

Always looking on the bright side can be tricky when it's raining on the inside.

Should I turn my face towards the rain?  Seek out and face my truth?  Or turn away, put on that brave face, and smile ...



Tuesday 15 June 2010

I Am In Pain - so there!

I have had some good news today.

Well, not exactly good news but I'm pleased nonetheless.

I was referred for an M.R.I. on my ankle last time I saw my haemophilia specialist.  This may sound extreme but other than a cursory play with my foot whenever I saw him, and sometimes not even that, I had begun to feel that my ankle was not getting the attention it deserved.



As a bleeder with a tendancy for joint bleeds, I felt that a wiggle of the joint and an "Oh that doesn't feel too bad - you've got a pretty good range of movement in that joint" wasn't quite good enough.  

I am lucky enough to only have one really problematic joint but my scrawny little ankle clicks, grinds and hurts in such a way it would make a torturer proud.  It has kept me awake on numerous occasions, such that if I'd had a hacksaw under my pillow I'd have been inclined to hack off my own foot - seriously, I would've, had it not been for the likelihood of a monster haemorrhage of course.  It often 'disappears'.  Surely, you query, that's the effect I was after?  Nope.  When my ankle 'disappears' as I describe it, it becomes in an instant so weak it can no longer support me, it suddenly hurts like someone has shot a bullet right through it, and I fall over - if I don't catch myself first.  Oh, and I usually shriek.  And I'm not prone to that.

Yup, doc, it's not too bad.

According to the new GIGTB leaflet produced by the Haemophilia society, the content of which I believe has been taken from the national service spec for haemophilia care (please do correct me if I've got that wrong), as a severe bleeder:

"You should also be offered an assessment
by a specialist orthopaedic surgeon or
rheumatologist at least once a year to
monitor joint and muscle problems and
identify the need for surgical intervention."

This is not a service I have ever had whilst under any comprehensive care centre.  And I'm 36 you know.  

Maybe it's just an ideal rather than a reality - I note the use of the word "should".  Maybe I just didn't complain enough about the pain I was in.  I believe that most bleeders (yes, men and women) have very high pain thresholds, otherwise we'd be in pieces all the time and you'd never hear the end of it.  I also am not the kind of person who complains - at least I don't think I am.  I will generally only bring something up if it is a real problem but if I'm then told - oh no, this seems fine, I have a tendency to put up and shut up.  Perhaps I should've pushed for further investigation earlier but to be fair I trusted the doctor -haha, hahahahaa, god you think I'd have learned by now - and was unaware what care should have been available to me.  We've never had a physio attached to our Comprehensive Care Centre and I've never seen the national service specification or the NICE guidelines.
Anyhow, during my last visit my haemophilia specialist said, as he held my right ankle in his hand, 
"Have you had an M.R.I. done on it recently?"
One jaw bleed later, I said, 
"...um, I've never had one".
And so I was referred.

To Selly Oak I went for a half hour session in a tubular machine that was either having the time of its life or heading for a severe mechanical breakdown.  I quite enjoyed it.  It was kind of musical, in a tone deaf tuneless kind of way.  My favourite part was when the operator popped some headphones over my ears and said - "That's for the music".  They remained silent until she said through them, 30 minutes later, 
"All done."

Two weeks later I've just phoned the hospital to see if they've got the results, and yes, they're in....

*Lights dimmed*

*Drum roll*

*Gratuitous lengthy relentless seemingly unending dramatic paaaaaaauuuuuse*

"Congratulations Mrs Cooper, you have won severe arthropathy of the right side of your ankle joint!!"

Have to admit my nurse didn't quite put it like that, but the good news was no tendon damage and the left side of my ankle didn't look too bad.  

The fact that the right side is so damaged makes me feel better - is that weird??  It basically means that all this pain and discomfort and weakness and crunching is not all in my head.  Why I would think it was, god knows, but hey it ain't, so that's good.  It explains things for me and means that finally summat can be done to make it better - or at least perhaps a tad less impactive on my life. 

I await the next step, with one good and one validated weak ankle ...


Thursday 27 May 2010

You were only waiting for an angel from above

The sun was out and so were we.
The conversation meandered past my ears.
Amidst the children's shouts arose another sound.
Gradually we stopped and listened.
As we silenced, he crescendo-ed.
We sought him out and his voice drew the eye.

Perched on the conifer top.
Basking his bright beak in the sun.
He sang from the depth of his tiny body.
Performing his aria for our audience.
His voice leapt from his yellow beak
and took flight towards our ears.

It soared and dropped
And twisted fro and to.
Encompassing his passion and joy.
He knew every note on every stave.
He shared them all with us.
We were in awe. It was beautiful.

The next day the black flutter caught my eye.
I went to see what I thought I knew.
He lay quiet and still in the road.
Eyes open yet opaque, beak bright but closed.
It may have been the loss of a friend
but I cried for the little soul.

Now that his song had gone.

Monday 24 May 2010

May I Be Well...

My friend and I recently went to hear a man called Dr David R Hamilton speak.

Dr Hamilton is an ex-scientist who now writes books and speaks in a motivational manner.  That is not the way he would market himself I am sure, but that is my understated synopsis.  If you would like to see how he does market himself you can do that here:

Dr David R Hamilton's website

I came to know him because the same friend lent me a book he had written:

How Your Mind Can Heal Your Body

I read it in no time - and yes, with CFS that isn't always easy but this book was straightforward and fascinating.  I would recommend checking it out if you are interested in any way in how the mind can have real impact of the condition and health of the body.

We attended his talk in Birmingham, which was on the same subject, and found him to be indeed a motivational and very entertaining speaker who makes complex ideas simple and has a great way with examples.  Whilst at the talk I purchased another book of his:

Why Kindness Is Good For You

It is this book to which the title of this post refers. In another Ros nutshell this book is about the direct impact kindness has been proven to have on your health.  Not just kindness towards others but also kindness towards yourself, and how behaving in this manner can change the very structure of our brains, can make us happier and improve our immune systems. Do I mean that by being unkind I am responsible for my having a bleeding disorder?  Unlikely because that is an inherited genetic condition. However, it is suggested that by not being kind we put stresses on our nervous systems to the detriment of our health. Some of the examples given of the conditions improved in David's book include depression, stress, inflammation, heart disease, blood pressure and pain.

That may or may not have relevance to the current state of my health but it is something that I can see the evidence for and I believe it is therefore worth a try.  It involves not only being kind and compassionate  towards others - which is not always as straightforward as it sounds.  But what is also important is being kind to yourself. Treating your self with compassion and love - whatever you feel you deserve or how lowly your opinion of you.

Within Chapter 1 is included an exercise which the reader can perform.  The idea is that meditation is a good way to alleviate stress and depression.  The meditation to try is a Buddhist Loving-Kindness meditation which is good for increasing positivity and pain relief. The book explains how to perform this meditation and includes the words which you use as a starting point.  The premise is that you begin with yourself and you can then expand the meditation outwards through your family, friends, work colleagues, neighbours, doctors, basically anyone and everyone you ever come into contact with.  You can aim to incorporate as many or as few people as you like, or you can start small and do only the circle closest to you.

I lay on my bed this morning and thought I'd give it a go.

I relaxed.

Closed my eyes.

I listened to my breathing.

Paid attention to it going in.

And out.


"May I be well,

.........

May I be happy

.........

May I be at ease"

I focussed on my heart.

On generating a warm positive feeling.


"May I be well,

.........

May I be happy

.........

May I be at ease"

Breathing in.

And breathing out.

Feeling relaxed.

And positive.

And calm.

"May I be well,

.........

May I be happy

.........

May I be at ease"

.........

I opened my eyes.

Kept my breathing calm.

And relaxed.

Feeling positive.

Slowly got up from the bed.



Walked to the bedroom door.

"May I be well,"

Walked into door frame.

"May I be ow bloody door frame,

May I be not flipping bashing myself into the frigging door frame,

May I be at ease, buggerit.

Hahahaaa!  Oh dammit."

Hmmmm, not quite how the Buddhists do it I expect.  Think I've got work to do.  And start on myself.

Wednesday 12 May 2010

For ME

Happy International ME/CFS and Fibromyalgia Awareness Day everyone!!

Today, 12 May, is a day for raising awareness of ME / CFS and Fibromyalgia internationally. (Ok - so it's clearly not the 12th any more but that is when I started writing this piece.)

In honour of this I would like to make the subject of my post today me. Or rather ME.


This blog was created to chronicle my bleeding condition - von Willebrand's disorder. This is a rare disorder which means my blood doesn't clot very well. It is a little like haemophilia and has caused me to have an interesting a blood soaked life, since diagnosis at 6 months old.

I'm now 36 and whilst I am a happy little bleeder generally - who finds handling a long term chronic disorder, within my capabilities - the last few years have been a bit tougher. (If you would like to find out more about the von Willies please do peruse my previous posts - preferably with a cup of tea and slice of summat to keep your energy up.)

Something I have blogged less about is my experience of having CFS or ME.

Why is that?

I know my von Willies well. I was born with it. It is who I am. I am a bleeder. I am able to live in that knowledge and with the challenges that presents in a fairly confident, capable and good humoured way.

The von Willebrand's is treated with clotting factors. Which are made from blood products. From these blood products I contracted Hepatitis C way back when they were shooting clotting factor into my little girl's veins.

The Hepatitis C stuck with me, infecting my blood and messing with my liver, until I had the second of two lots of treatment, which managed to eradicate the virus from my blood.

Good news right?

But wait...

I really struggled with the treatment - Interferon and then Pegalated Interferon and Ribavirin.
And I mean really struggled.
It wiped me out.
Beat me up.
Wrang me out.
Shook me up.
Drained me out.
Chewed me up.
And spat me out.
It felt like being in a washing machine for 12 months.

Ever since the second lot of treatment in 2003 I have had recurring CFS or ME.

I still felt I was on the treatment six months later, 12 months later, 2 years later and still now 7 years later. Unable to work. Unable to live the way I used to. Existing. Waiting.

Don't get me wrong I have had periods of being well - being able to work, to live a full life, to fit everything in I wanted to and more....

However the reality now is not so good. My natural outlook is a sunny one. I see my CFS as a grey cloud that contains me and is not always easy to shine through.

The tricky thing is that to the untrained eye I look well. You look at me and don't see the cloud. Or the fog or the mist that clogs up my mind and body.

I used to find it hard to acknowledge the CFS. My mum once gave me a leaflet on ME and said - this sounds much like what you've got. Oh no, said I, that's not me - I'm just getting over the Hep C treatment. I'll be fine in a bit.

Even now if people ask me how I am - I'm fine! Or if not fine - I'm a bit tired.

A bit tired!! Understatement city :)

It is difficult to write how hard things can be. Equally it is difficult to talk about how hard things can be.

That is a problem.

How can I expect people who do not have, have never had ME or CFS to understand what it is like if I don't let it out.

You may be looking at the picture above and saying to yourself - she looks right enough. That is understandable.

If you see me looking well - which I do when I'm in public, most of the time;
or see me getting to the supermarket - which I do some of the time;
or if you have a conversation with me and I'm upbeat - which I try damn hard to be all of the time;
you cannot be expected to understand the reality.

I have tried to be a bit more explicit, but when I mention how exhausted I am - you might say, oh yes I'm tired too.
When I say it's hard to get things done - you might think, oh but you're lucky you don't work, you have plenty of time.
When I explain how hard it is to sleep - you might suggest, perhaps if you did more in the day you'd be more tired and sleep better?
When I say how much my body aches - you might sympathise, maybe if you got out more you would be fitter and be less stiff?

Often I don't have the energy to respond.

To argue that my exhaustion is so deep it is like a coat of lead that I wear 24 hours a day - that prevents me getting out of bed, that means I hurt to wash my hair and hang out my washing because my arms have to be held up, that means I pant after going up the stairs and need a rest after washing, then after dressing, then after eating my breakfast...

To explain that it is hard to get things done because my brain doesn't work properly any more. You know how you feel when you're hung over? Like your head is full of wool and your body is poisoned? That is my normal state. I forget things that used to be second nature. I struggle to make a cup of tea if you're talking to me, to hold a conversation without losing my thread, to write a blog without wanting to smash the computer because I keep getting words wrong, to run a bath without putting the wrong tap on and flooding the house, to put toothpaste on the brush and not Veet. I can't expect you to understand that some days I struggle to fit in getting up and dressed and doing some tidying and making the tea. Let alone cleaning and ironing and paying the bills and having people drop in to see me. The washing machine beep sends me demented. Running out of cat food is a constant worry because it means having to go out to get some.

To elaborate that I can't sleep because I'm so tired it hurts. That my joints ache and my muscles twitch and I can't be still for longer than a couple of minutes without twisting and turning and writhing trying to find a comfortable spot. That I feel things crawling on me - on my arm, then on my foot, then on my back, then my leg, then my face. There's nothing there, it's just a symptom of the CFS, Crawling Effing Sods. That if I do get to sleep I often wake in the small hours and then it starts all over again - the pain and the aching and the crawling and then the mind chimes in telling me that I need to sleep, I need to sleep, I need to sleeeeeeeeeep!!

To tell you that the aches and pains are such that I can't sit still for more than a few minutes without stretching and flexing my legs, arms, fingers. Next time you have the flu and you feel so sore and drained you can't move out of bed or off the sofa - that it how it feels on a bad day with CFS. It feels like my bones are rotting and my muscles are aching and twitching in an endeavour to get out of this body.


Is it better for me to acknowledge the CFS? Does it help to let it out? Or does that just remind me how much fun it isn't??

I know fighting the condition doesn't work - that the energy used constantly battling to overcome the lack of energy and limitations of your body aggravates the condition exponentially.

So do I need to accept ME in order to get better? Embrace my little grey cloud and let it hug me back. Take care of myself rather than push myself to the limit? Listen to my body rather than shout at it? Allow my body to recuperate rather than expect it to continue at an unsustainable pace? Give my mind space to rest and restore rather than shower it with anxiety and pressure and stress?

Love and cherish not berate and frustrate.

Worth a try, right?

Wednesday 5 May 2010

Spot the Clot (or lack of it)

Stepped out of the shower this morning and was drying myself when I had a familiar and slightly disturbing experience...

Blood spatter.

Not on the walls or the floor or, heaven forbid, the ceiling. On my towel. Which was fresh out of the linen cupboard.

Ok - so I don't have a linen cupboard, it was just off the pile of clean towels dumped on our spare bed, but that ain't the point, right.

Blood spatter.

I repeat for effect. And because I found two spatters.

One little grouping initially. Then another slightly redder affair which stopped me in my drying tracks.

Hmmmm, I thought, as I stood slightly damp, examining the evidence.

Hmmmm, I thought, as I put aside the towel and rotated in front of the bathroom mirror.

No facial bleeding - no spots picked or nose bleeds or toothbrush injuries.
No chest bleeding.
No tummy bleeding.
No arm bleeding - from over zealous loofahing.
No foreleg bleeding - from epilating my calves yesterday.
No neck bleeding.
No back bleeding.
No hindleg bleeding ... wait just a minute ... there he is the little bleeder ...

Back of my left thigh - just above the knee - it's just a spot - no it's a blob - no it's a dribble.

I mop it up with a piece of loo roll. Press another piece on it hard to try and stop it.

It works! For once :)

I must confess. It was my fault. I Veeted that thigh today. Must've left it one a few seconds longer than I shoulda. Ooopsy daisy.

Just keeping an eye on my jeans now - these little ones have a habit of re-appearing when they're least wanted ....

Wednesday 28 April 2010

Night Mare


This was the evening after the morning before.

Another weeny gummy bleed. Where this one came from I'm not sure - think it started around mid afternoon - aaaah mebbe it was that piece of Soreen I had with my cuppa?? It is very sticky and probly sucked a bit of my gum off. Nice. Anyway, it was still going as I headed off to bed.

You shot up? says Ade.
No, says I.
You won't sleep, say he.
Oh but I will, say I.
I got my night nurse you see and with that I could sleep through a boobquake.

Where was I?? Oh yes, the clotting factor conundrum...

I was talking to a fellow bleeder at the hospital Tuesday lunchtime and we both admitted that where possible - we put off having an injection until it is absolutely desperately necessary. Now it's not like either of us have a problem injecting - we don't. Though I know bleeders who hate it with a passion and I really wouldn't want to be in their sensible shoes.

Injecting is:
  • quicker than it's ever been (with these drugs companies reducing what used to be a squishy bag of plasma down to a couple of glass bottles)
  • pretty effective (though not always so, being a Type III von Willie, that would be far too simple)
  • almost painless (if I do it in my left elbow and through the scar tissue - not if I have to use my right elbow vein, but even that ain't too bad; hands - now they would kill me but I've yet to have to resort to that entry point)
So why put it off??

It's funny - when I have to do prophylactic treatment, i.e. twice daily injections to cover a period or a procedure of some sort, I set my alarm at 9am and 9pm and do my jabs no problem. Ok - so mebbe there is a little cursing and harrumphing but I do em - night after morning after night after morning.

So why is it different when I need to treat on demand??

I'm not sure.

It seems much more of an effort. Much more of a chore. A hassle. It bugs me frankly that I need to have my treatment. I mean why for God's sake?? Why do I have this damn disorder that means I need to stick a needle in myself to stop my gum from oooooooooozing like an insidious leaking leech.

Is it because it reminds me of my imperfection? But why would that be, as this process fixes me?

Do I hate injecting that much that I avoid it at all costs? Nope, once I get on with it, it's easy and generally restores me to a non bleedy state.

What then?

Am I just a lazy arse? Partly I think. My friend and I both agreed that when it comes to it we often just simply cannot be bothered.

Is it the cost?? Is it that I feel it needs to be really bad to warrant injecting? I have access to this treatment that not everyone with funny blood has. Sometimes yes, I think I postpone longer and longer. I wait - wait for the bleed to continue past 5-10 minutes normal bleeding time, past 1-2 hours slightly annoying bleeding time, onwards through 3-4 hours really annoying bleeding time, we reach 8 hours and I realise that I'm still oozing. Then do I inject??

With my gums - I sometimes wait til 12 hours before I jab, 24 hours. Why do this?

Any longer than 10 minutes is abnormal, should I not just inject once that has been breached?? Why wait so damn long...

You know, sometimes I think if I just ignore it, it will stop. If I don't think about the bleeding it'll just clot up and a few hours later I'll go - "Ooo, a blood free gob! How lovely." Very occasionally I find that happens, and a bleed I was previously aware of has miraculously gummed up of its own accord. Another reason to put off the prick.

Of course, should I be bleeding at a more profuse rate - period pace for example - I will get on with it. I don't sit around gushing. (Except over a really luscious piece of cake - and even then I'd stop to shoot up if I were bleeding over it.)

Mebbe it's just I judge the oozers as not bad enough to treat initially. They are just something I should accept and not treat unless they hit 12 hours? 24 hours? It's a valuable treatment - should it be saved for more extreme circumstances. Praps I'm not truly suffering unless I'm swallowing blood for a significant number of hours?

But why should I accept any excess bleeding even if it is an infinite dribble?

Just get on with it - shoot up and shut up.

Tuesday 27 April 2010

Mucky Mush

This was the state of me when I woke up this morning.

Gorgeous right??

My tongue was more gory but it's rude to poke that out without a warning. This is the morning after a night on the towels. Actually it wasn't that bad. No towels required for drooling blood - just a cast iron stomach from gulping goo.

I have been doing prophylactic injections for my latest period but stopped those yesterday morning when things eased off down below.

It amazes me however how quickly things get back to normal, or in my case - way below normal. Last night my gums bled from when I brushed my teeth at around 10pm, until after I got up at 9am this morning. My lips weren't too bad really. They have been known to completely stick together, so much so that I would win any sponsored silence by a very clear length. This morning they were, as you can see, just a little bloody. The way yours might look after a few too many red wines. Not how I would like to answer the door admittedly but far from scary to passing passersby peeping through my curtains.

Luckily, as is sometimes the case, things seemed to clot off once I'd had my breakkie, mebbe it's the ice cold milk on my crispies?? I didn't need to shoot up this time.

And therein lies a common conundrum - to shoot up or not to shoot up - that is my question...

Thursday 22 April 2010

NonSense

Sometimes I hear singing in the silence

Sometimes I see colours in the dark

Sometimes I feel the warmth of a hug though I'm alone

Sometimes I sit in sunlight,
surrounded by people,
and am deaf, blind and numb

Sunday 31 January 2010

Narration Explanation

The content of the post below this was my statement for the Lord Archer Independent Inquiry into Contaminated Blood.

The recommendations from this inquiry have largely been ignored, however EDM 538 supports a Bill which aims to make them law and already has the support of 126 MP's.

The Bill comes in front of the House of Commons on Friday 5 February. Please ask your MP for his support in passing this Bill and signing EDM 538. I did and mine has.

Contamination Narration is my life as defined by my medical conditions. It is not my life in full.

I am one of the lucky bleeders still alive and fighting.

I am one of the lucky bleeders who did not contract HIV as a child.

I am one of the lucky bleeders who treated Hep C and kicked it out of me.

I do know how lucky I am.

I'm thinking of the others.

Saturday 30 January 2010

Contamination Narration

I found out that I had contracted Hepatitis C from contaminated blood products inadvertently.

I am a 33 year old woman and have Type III von Willebrands disorder (vWd). This is von Willebrands in its most severe form. I was diagnosed when I was 8 months old and since that moment I have needed at least 1 injection per month of initially cryo-precipitate in the 70’s and 80’s, and then 8Y and Haemate P factor VIII in the 80’s and 90’s to control my bleeding. Due to the severity of my bleeding I have also needed a number of blood transfusions over the past 33 years. Initially my mum and dad had to take me 24 miles to hospital and back every time I needed treatment. When I was a teenager I learned how to inject myself and began home treatment.

Having clotting factor blood products available on the NHS was life saving. No-one ever told us of any risks associated with using blood products or having blood transfusions, we accepted that they were the solution to a severe condition – one that would enable me to achieve a quality of life impossible for a severe bleeder, prior to the introduction of clotting factor products.

My mum remembers me having non-A, non-B hepatitis on my notes when I was only a few years old but this was neither explained then, nor when the virus was re-named Hepatitis C.

When I was 19 I was sent to St Thomas’s Hospital in London for an operation on my ankle. While I was being prepped for the operation the consultant, let’s call him Dr S, asked me about my having Hepatitis C. I did not know what he was talking about. I had no idea at that time that I had contracted Hepatitis C. It was obviously in my notes but none of my doctors in Manchester had ever mentioned it to me. This was how the news was broken. I was sitting on the ward, surrounded by nurses doing their jobs and other patients - I felt frozen in time. Dr S may have tried to explain more seeing my shock but I don’t remember anything else he said.

I never confronted my own specialists as to why I had not been told I had contracted this life threatening virus. When I asked for more information on my return home, I was not told about the effect Hepatitis C could have and the prospects for liver damage, cirrhosis and liver cancer. I was only told that it was a virus that could take in excess of 20 years to cause any problems - irrespective of the fact that I could have contracted this anytime after my first injection 19 years ago, a fact I was unaware of at the time. I was advised that I should be careful not to drink too much. Not advised to avoid alcohol, only to drink a bit less with no real guidance as to how much was a bit. I was not told anything about the risk to sexual partners; luckily I had none at that time…

For the next 5 years I continued living my life – finishing university, figuring out what job I wanted, moving into a shared house with other young professionals – activities typical of a young person with a positive future. My Hepatitis C positive status was my only symptom of the virus and I chose to ignore it rather than face up to my uncertain future.

The way I did find about the realities of the virus - the prospects for liver damage, cirrhosis and liver cancer and the measures I should take to protect myself and others was from a support group that I became involved with - the Manor House group. This had been set up to campaign for help for those with Hep C but was a wonderful support and education network for someone like myself.

Due to what I learned I was unable to forget the virus all together. I had to ensure that no-one shared anything of mine. I often have gum bleeds due to the vWd and had to tell everyone I lived with not to use my toothbrush or share my glass or food. I found sexual relationships impossible. If I started to date someone I had not only to tell them about the vWd – a complicated and rare condition but one I lived with – but also felt obliged to make them aware I had HCV. How could I expect someone to start a relationship on an emotional or physical level without warning them? Not only the risk to themselves but the fact that I had an uncertain future due to a potentially terminal virus.

When I was 24 I was advised to take 12 months interferon treatment. I was working as an Events Manager at a large department store at the time. My employers knew about the vWd and the HCV and were happy for me to go ahead with the treatment even though I had explained the possible side effects. I had been told that I’d be injecting three times a week and would possibly feel a little fluey the day after the injection. I’d discussed this with work and they’d agreed if that was the case I could reduce my hours and work on the days in between when I felt better.

The worse thing about starting the interferon was it forced me to acknowledge that I had this life threatening virus in my blood. At that point my future was impossible to contemplate and I found myself thinking what music I would like at my funeral. That’s how it made me feel. I always felt I was a strong individual and that I could handle anything vWd threw at me. This was something else, far beyond my control and it loomed over me blocking out the light.

This course of treatment worked for me while I was on it – the PCR test was negative, but the virus came back immediately I stopped. I had horrendous continuous side effects – leadening fatigue, flu-like shivers and hot flushes, pain like my bones were rotting, furious brief but intense rages, itchy sensations on my skin at night, headaches, forgetfulness and more - I was unable to work after a couple of months of treatment. My company held my job for me for a while but after a few months terminated me because I was unable to guarantee when I would be fit enough to return to work. It took me over 6 months to get back to normal-ish after the 12 months of treatment and my hospital said they would not recommend I do the treatment again because it had affected me so badly.

When I felt well enough to go back to work I had no job and I still had the virus. I decided to retrain in order that I could maybe work from home if I ever did have to take more treatment or was too ill with the virus to get to work. I took out a career development loan and did a computing course.

About this time I met a man through a friend of mine from university. He was a farmer from Worcestershire and was totally unfazed when I told him what I was going through. I explained about my bleeding condition, the virus which had just reared its ugly head again, why I was not working at the time and he asked lots of questions and still wanted to see more of me.

After another year I'd moved to Worcestershire to live with this man, Adrian, I was working in IT and got a new hospital, the QE in Birmingham. They wanted me to go on a 6 month pegylated interferon and ribavirin trial. They said it had a good chance of success as I had genotype 2 and was a fairly young woman.

I was not keen after the last time without really knowing the state of my liver. I asked for a biopsy and even though I was a bleeder they agreed to do it. Unfortunately the biopsy was not monitored carefully and I had an internal bleed into my liver. I ended up in intensive care having had an operation to drain the blood from my liver, to try to control the bleeding and received six pints of blood. I was in and out of hospital for 3 months but at the end they told me my liver was showing only mild scarring - amazing after what I had not been told was probably 25+ years with the virus.

I did the 6 months of pegylated interferon and ribavirin. I struggled with the side effects again during and for 8 months after the treatment and was diagnosed with depression because I was so ill - even with my canny move into computing I was unable to work for the entire time, at home or otherwise. However this time the treatment worked. The virus was negative during the treatment and at the six month test afterwards. I was given the six month result just before Adrian and my wedding day. The virus is still negative, it is no longer in my blood although it has not gone altogether from my body – the doctors are not able to say it is a complete cure. At my last test in November 2006, 3 years post treatment, I was still clear – thank god!

So how is life now I'm virus free?

Since the second lot of treatment I have been left with long term after effects. I'm not complaining because I'm so pleased to be HCV negative but I am concerned by the chronic post-viral fatigue I've been experiencing and how long it has been going on.

I remember feeling appalling a few months after the treatment and convincing myself that the HCV had come back - luckily I was wrong. I constantly expect it to have reappeared from somewhere because of how awful I feel but it hasn't yet, so that's good.

I was diagnosed with post-viral fatigue (chronic fatigue) by my GP due to the time it took me to get over my treatment. After I did get back to work - 10 months after the second lot of treatment, I found that I had a low physical limit beyond which I'd get horrendous fatigue, pains in my bones and joints, headaches, hot head flushes - exactly how I felt on the treatment. It would last for days or sometimes weeks. Mostly it was triggered by getting some kind of viral infection which would somehow set me right back, but could also be just overdoing things and not by any normal standards.

Since the second lot of treatment I have had a number of days and weeks off sick. Before the treatment I had worked my way up into IT consultancy and was really enjoying my job. After the treatment I found an IT position locally which was less stressful but with a lower salary because I didn’t feel capable of working at my previous level. Shortly after I started this job I got pharyngitis and this led to a sudden descent into 7 months of horrendous chronic fatigue and depression caused by feeling so awful so long after my treatment. I was very lucky again and my employer kept my job open for me and enabled me to return part-time and then full-time back at the beginning of 2006.

I was so happy to be back at work and feeling practically normal, only 3 years after clearing HCV. However I was not doing anything outside work because I was exhausted by the time I got home. Too tired to cook or hold a conversation with my husband. Also my memory and concentration have never recovered to the level that they were at before the treatment.

After a whole year of feeling much better and working really hard, I have been off since another throat virus in January of this 2007 until now. Again with the exact same problems – incapacitating fatigue - such that I find it hard to hold a conversation if I’ve done too much, my memory and concentration are really bad, I cannot sleep because of the pains in my legs and the itchy sensations – recently diagnosed as formication, I feel hot flushes in my head and often have headaches.

My GP now says it can't be post-viral (as in HCV) fatigue because it is too long after I cleared the virus and had the treatment, which was 2003. I'm convinced it's still connected but as the docs have no long term evidence to go on I feel like a malingerer.

I'm sure it is the treatment or the HCV which has left me with this chronic / post-viral / call it what you will fatigue problem. I'm managing it and learning to adjust my life to suit. It looks as if I will have to re-think my career again because I cannot continue the job I was doing at the rate I was doing it. I cannot afford to retrain again; we cannot really afford for me to take a pay cut but may have to. My husband is working himself ragged with the constant worry that I may be like this for some time.

My haematologist has suggested I have a ‘tendency’ for this fatigue but I never ever had this problem before the treatment. As a bleeder I’ve always lived my life to the very best of my ability and I resent the implication that I am in some way allowing myself to wallow in this state.

I'm currently off work still. I have improved slightly over the last few months but I'm still having headaches, painful joints, horribly aching legs at night, itchy crawly sensations, raging moments, hot head flushes, huge forgetfulness, incoherence (can't hold a conversation after 8pm), that's all I can think of for now...

I no longer have the Hepatitis C running around my blood but I worry constantly if having it dormant in my body still is causing these problems. I cannot have recombinant treatment because I need the vW factor, as well as the factor VIII, that is present in heat treated factor VIII but not in recombinant. I worry every time I inject myself that I could be, or could already have been, exposed to other viruses. But what choice do I have?