Fuzzy Feet

Dilemma of the day:

My feet have pins and needles and a burning sensation, which makes it quite difficult to walk without a walking stick.

My hands also have pins and needles and a burning sensation, which makes it quite difficult to hold a walking stick.

Tricky business.

My list of ridiculous and frustrating symptoms is getting longer and more annoying as the months go on. I do have an appointment with my doctor next week, but I don’t honestly expect anything to come of it. (Although I’m hoping for a referral to a rheumatologist, who can at least arrange for some tests I haven’t had already.)

Hey ho.

At least it’s a bit easier to put up with having very uncomfortable feet when you get to put them inside some lovely comfortable shoes. Fairysteps Holly, in case you were wondering. I wear mine with the ribbons around the ankle rather than across the instep.

Just as well I sold my entire shoe collection in order to buy these, really. I can’t imagine I’d have been able to wear a single pair of my old shoes right now!

Arthralgia

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While I was on holiday, something a bit odd happened. A couple of times, for no particular reason, I found myself wishing that I’d taken my walking stick with me, because out of nowhere I was suddenly too exhausted to walk without it. When I got home I seemed to be better, and managed a normal day at work last Friday. Then I woke up on Saturday morning unable to walk without a stick again, and with pain in every joint of my body.

On Monday I shuffled over to see my doctor, where the magic word of the day was ARTHRALGIA. This means that there’s pain in all my joints. Which I knew already, thanks. I’ve had blood tests done, looking at thyroid function and inflammation markers, and they’ll come back next week. Every time I’ve had those tests done before they’ve come back within “normal” limits, so I have no doubt that these will be the same. All my doctor could say was, “maybe it’ll go away”.

Well, maybe it will, and maybe it won’t. Maybe I’ll be fine for months, and then one day I won’t be able to get out of bed because of the pain.

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The trouble with pain is that, like depression (from which I also suffer), it’s invisible. Unless you’re openly weeping, or covered in gaping wounds, the general assumption is that you’re fine. I mean, you look fine, so how bad can it be?

Well, the trouble with pain is that it varies. One day you might be able to go to work as normal, the next you might not be able to get out of bed. It’s also subjective. A pain that might cause one person to merely sigh and reach for the paracetamol might leave another person bedridden. All of which makes it very difficult to explain that yes, I may have been fine yesterday, and I may look fine, but today I just can’t make my body work.

This is why I don’t have a full-time job. Even though I look fine, I’m just not well enough to travel to another place and stand up and talk to people for forty hours a week. At least working part time, I can try and make sure that I get enough rest while I’m at home, so that I can get through my working days without hurting myself. The difficulty comes when I’m ill on the days when I am supposed to work.

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Obviously everybody sometimes has time off because of illness, but if it’s just everyday things like coughs and colds, it tends to be just a couple of days here and there. Maybe a week. In fact I only took a week off work after my last hip operation! But I might find that this current bout of pain lasts for another week, or a month, or six months, or who knows how long. And taking lots of time off work because of a mystery illness, when you look fine, and can often do other, gentler, things when you’re at home, leads to resentment from the people who have to cover for you at work, disciplinary action if you’re perceived to be taking too much time off, loss of trust if you suddenly become unreliable, and all sorts of other unpleasant things. I’ve lost count of the number of jobs I’ve resigned from, having been told that I’d taken too much time off sick, and having been made to feel no longer welcome as a result.

Of course, it’s easy to understand that no employer wants to be constantly having to find cover for an employee that’s hardly ever there. Employers need employees who are physically and mentally capable of doing the work set out for them, and they have every right to expect that. But where does that leave me? I am capable of doing the work… but not all the time. I’m reliable and hard-working… when I’m well. And unfortunately, it’s impossible to predict when I’m going to be ill, or how long the illness might last.

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I’ve been really lucky during this past year, in that my most recent surgery has left my health very much improved, and I’ve been able to find and keep a job that I’m really enjoying. But if this current development doesn’t pass quickly, I don’t know how things will work out. Like so many people in my line of work, I’m employed on a temporary contract, and my employers would be well within their rights to replace me if I’m no longer able to do the work that they need me to do. Even freelance work isn’t any better, because I might be simply unable to guarantee that I’ll be well enough to work on the appointed day.

Recently I’ve been applying for traineeships and internships and looking at professional qualifications that might enable me to build on this new career that I’m enjoying so much. But if I’m not going to be well enough to actually go to work, then what on earth’s the point? I can get myself as many qualifications as I like, but if the state of my health won’t allow me to get out of bed then it’s nothing more than a vanity exercise, not to mention the most enormous waste of time and money.

Perhaps the pain will pass in the next couple of days. By the time the blood test results come through, I could well be completely fine again. But if I’m not? Who knows how long the pain will last, or what I’ll be able to manage. Perhaps it’s time to re-think some of my plans.

(Why the doll pictures? Sitting in bed and needle-felting her hair was about the most strenuous activity I could manage today, and I still hurt my hands doing it. But being able to make something, or accomplish one small, simple task, even when I’m ill, helps to reassure me that I can still achieve something.)