tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39687847801212633012023-11-16T07:30:36.583+00:00That Girl With ArthritisCat Bullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10205138989779416644noreply@blogger.comBlogger54125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3968784780121263301.post-62270488242645232352020-04-29T13:26:00.001+01:002020-04-29T13:26:36.994+01:00That Girl With Arthritis has a new home!That Girl With Arthritis has a new home!<br />
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Don't worry, you will still be able to access archived blog posts on here - they aren't going anywhere! But from now on any new posts can be found at:<br />
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www.thatgirlwitharthritis.co.uk<br />
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See you there!Cat Bullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10205138989779416644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3968784780121263301.post-13420808287872932422020-04-19T12:21:00.003+01:002020-04-20T15:58:32.107+01:00Hoping for a new blog post? Don't worry, I've got you COVID. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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You'd have to have been living under a rock for the last month to not be aware of what is going on in the world at the moment. The bad news is, you're probably bored of being stuck* at home. The good news is, I've come out of blog retirement to provide you with at least 5 minutes of reading material and tell you about what this means for me.<br />
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*safe. You're safe at home.<br />
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<b>I fall into a 'high risk' category</b><br />
This is because I take certain medications (immunosuppresants) which weaken my immune system. If I become infected with the virus I am at higher risk of becoming more unwell from it than the average fit and healthy 32 (yes, I'm 32 now...) year old.<br />
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<b>My job role has changed</b><br />
I'm still an A&E doctor, but I can't see patients face-to-face at the moment, even the ones who come to hospital with a non-COVID19 related problem. There are constantly patients in the department who have confirmed or suspected COVID19, and even those that don't have symptoms right now could still be carrying it. Therefore I am currently reviewing patients with confirmed or suspected COVID19 remotely via a video consultation platform, as well as doing various administrative tasks to free up others who can still see patients. Whilst I know that this is the right thing to do, I can't help but feel a mixture of emotions about it -<br />
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I'm hugely frustrated that I'm not able to do my job - doctors, in fact all healthcare professionals for that matter, have an intrisic need to help people and not being able to do that because of something completely out of my control is incredibly difficult to accept.<br />
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I feel immense sadness that I am not able to see my colleagues - my friends - and comfort them when they are having a particularly tough day. The things we, as A&E department staff, often have to deal with means that we know how to keep spirits up (tip top bants, basically) and I really miss being part of the team.<br />
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I feel guilty for having an excuse to keep myself safe whilst my colleagues are putting themselves at risk day after day.<br />
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I'm super anxious that I'm going to get sick anyway and I will have stayed away for nothing.<br />
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<b>People check on me a lot</b><br />
Mostly my mother. But also lots of others, even some who I haven't spoken to in a long time. I guess that's the thing; when you talk openly about your medical condition everyone knows when you fall into one of the government's 'at risk' groups!<br />
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<b>I have free time</b><br />
Well, approximately 4 minutes of it between 'homeschooling' my children (iPads count as homeschooling, right?), tidying the house 17 times per day and going to work. Which luckily for you means that not only have I had time to make myself feel guilty for neglecting this blog for so long, I have also found time to write it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="When I Turn My Back On My Kids For 5 Seconds GIF | Gfycat" src="https://thumbs.gfycat.com/FormalDistortedGiraffe-size_restricted.gif" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When I turn my back on my kids for 5 seconds...</td></tr>
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<b>I will have to put up with pain for longer</b><br />
I've been having problems with my shoulder for 3 and a half years now; for a long time it was assumed that it was 'just' a frozen shoulder, but no steroid injections, medication changes or physiotherapy made any difference. A couple of months ago I finally had an MRI and I'm sure you don't have to be a doctor to recognize that 'erosive arthropathy of the glenohumeral joint with complete loss of articular cartilage' does not sound like good news...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKlkavLbvZWfMCY3sxeBwOX7afnERzYUV68E4DzPVE-FQ4-n4RoIlZCzHfkVGNChAbC1pN4AWeMhWiTxpQkwPjZTqAIdb6tBDZWwgJN4NJYqwckagkR1gkZWRcBF_3MKyjXA_xP6phIGc/s1600/Picture1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="396" data-original-width="500" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKlkavLbvZWfMCY3sxeBwOX7afnERzYUV68E4DzPVE-FQ4-n4RoIlZCzHfkVGNChAbC1pN4AWeMhWiTxpQkwPjZTqAIdb6tBDZWwgJN4NJYqwckagkR1gkZWRcBF_3MKyjXA_xP6phIGc/s320/Picture1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Normal shoulder x-ray</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxkU7L6MlKHyUMhFu0J_sEC57DphcKV0KbDcvHpO0S1mZDx699gKJ7HZn1mYluPPytgML68yD44SnzC20_G0eJcBIRN4pXBAXRVWDM3wngnVngwMVDXnxEU4sNUwpH_nvQXxc1X1ARbuw/s1600/IMG_3206%255B1%255D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxkU7L6MlKHyUMhFu0J_sEC57DphcKV0KbDcvHpO0S1mZDx699gKJ7HZn1mYluPPytgML68yD44SnzC20_G0eJcBIRN4pXBAXRVWDM3wngnVngwMVDXnxEU4sNUwpH_nvQXxc1X1ARbuw/s320/IMG_3206%255B1%255D.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My shoulder x-ray</td></tr>
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No one wants to have their shoulder replaced at 32.<br />
Also, no one wants you to have your shoulder replaced at 32.<br />
It's major surgery, a replacement joint only lasts 10-15 years and younger patients have a higher likelihood of early failure and the need for further, more complex revision surgery. Recovery can take up to 3 months and in the short term I won't be allowed to lift anything heavier than a pen. I'll be reliant on others to do absolutely everything for me (although I'm practicing wiping my bum with my right hand so don't worry, I won't be asking you for help with that) and I'll be hugely restricted in what I can wear for a while (my surgeon suggested ponchos...if that's not the biggest travesty of this whole saga then I don't know what is).<br />
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Obviously I do have a choice as to whether to go ahead or not...except I don't, really. My quality of life has gone downhill significantly - I don't sleep well due to pain, I struggle to lift anything heavier than a kettle (a concept which my children fail to understand), and even brushing my hair can be difficult. I have reduced sensation down one side of my arm and hand due to nerve impingement and my grip strength is reduced because some of my muscles are torn, meaning I drop things frequently.<br />
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So it was an easy decision, really. That didn't stop me crying like a baby though because a) I cry a lot (even once during an episode of 'Homes Under the Hammer') and b) it's not fair that I have to make decisions like this at 32 years old.<br />
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Anyway, I received this news 3 days before lockdown so, thanks to this stupid virus, I have to wait indefinitely to have the operation. When that day comes I will no doubt have a lot to blog about and a lot of time to do it in. And don't worry, even if I can't hold my phone, I can always do a vlog whilst wearing a poncho.Cat Bullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10205138989779416644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3968784780121263301.post-2011079937857869872017-10-12T22:15:00.002+01:002017-10-12T23:08:10.518+01:00It's World Arthritis Day, and I think my ankle knows because I woke up with pain and swelling this morning and have more of a limp than most of the patients I saw with ankle injuries today at work. Anyway, what with it being WAD I've hastily thrown together something that resembles a blog post and I've put together a handy list to bring you up to speed with everything you need to know from the last few years:<br />
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1. My name is still Cat, and I still have Juvenile Idiopathic Arthritis, even though the only things still juvenile about me are my sense of humour and chubby cheeks. </div>
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2. Unfortunately I'm no longer 27. In fact, I'm no longer even in my 20s as I turned 30 2 days ago. </div>
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3. I've been working as a doctor for the last 3 years, and for the most part I'm really enjoying it. My arthritis is not. </div>
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4. I've had another baby. The boy kind this time, and he's super cute, but trying to wrestle a 7 month old (who does not give two shits that you have arthritis) into a pair of leggings when your hands are hurting is not my idea of fun. Being pregnant when you have JIA is also not my idea of fun. The good drugs aren't allowed, and getting pissed to mask some of the pain is also frowned upon. I actually ended up being induced a few weeks early because things got so bad. Luckily he came out all cute, so it was worth it in the end. </div>
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5. In terms of arthritis - which, lets face it, is why we are all here - I'm not in a great place. I'm waiting to get put back on the good drugs and in the meantime I'm in a fair amount of pain and very reliant on anti-inflammatories and steroids to get me through each day.</div>
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6. A few months back whilst attempting to apply fake tan I realised that I couldn't move my shoulder very much, and not wanting to continue with streaky tan lines I thought I better mention it to my rheumatologist. I've been injected with steroids, both in my butt and in the joint directly, and I'm also having physiotherapy. Nothing is working, and I'm starting to worry that I'll never have a good tan again. Oh, and it makes every day tasks really fucking difficult. That, too. </div>
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7. This December will be 10 years since I had my hip replacement. I know it hasn't happened yet, and so technically doesn't belong in this list, but I'm pretty damn excited about it. </div>
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8. I have now had arthritis for over half my life. Celebrations on the day itself included changing many a shitty nappy (the baby's, not mine), drinking about 50 cups of tea (the baby prefers blowing raspberries in the middle of the night to sleeping) and upcycling a bookcase. That day may not have been the best example, but I'm pretty proud of everything I have achieved despite the hand that life has dealt me. Besides, it's nice to be able to do such 'normal' things, because if you'd told me 15 years ago that I'd be wiping my kids' bums when back then I couldn't even wipe my own, I doubt I would have believed you. </div>
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So as you can probably tell arthritis is still very much a big part of my life, as it is for (seamless link to WAD related facts coming) 10 million others including 12,000 children and adolescents. </div>
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Thanks for doing your bit for arthritis awareness and reading this far. 'Til next time, when hopefully I will bring you news of the good drugs and much improved tan lines. </div>
Cat Bullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10205138989779416644noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3968784780121263301.post-63471858762938505232014-04-30T11:19:00.000+01:002014-04-30T11:27:22.393+01:00An unfair share of the cake?So I've just caught up on Newsnight from last night as the inspirational Kris, founder and CEO of <a href="http://coppafeel.org/" target="_blank">CoppaFeel!</a>, was discussing living with cancer and the importance of awareness and early diagnosis.<br />
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It was during this interview that Jeremy Paxman asked a question which really struck a chord with me:<br />
<i>"Do you feel that because cancer makes a talismanic, terrifying impression on people that you somehow have an unfair share of the cake?" </i><br />
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Before I say what I am about to say, I want to make it clear that I am not trying to take anything away from the seriousness of cancer and the devastating effect it has on a person and their family and friends. My grandpa lost his life to lung cancer eight years ago and I wouldn't wish what he went through on my worst enemy. I'm also not intentionally singling cancer out - it's merely an example and I could just as easily use several other diseases in it's place. I'm not trying to compare my condition to cancer, or any other disease for that matter, because they are all terrible in their own right.<br />
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In his question Jeremy Paxman was referring to the funds that cancer charities receive, but my frustration lies more with the perception of my disease. Everybody knows how awful cancer can be. People hear the word 'cancer' and instantly fear the worst, or feel sorry for you if they find out you have the disease. And quite rightly. But when I tell someone that I have rheumatoid arthritis, their reaction is usually to either question whether I am 'too young for that', or to brush it off as insignificant, or both. Perhaps it is because everyone knows that it is possible to die from cancer. Few people know that it is possible to die from rheumatoid arthritis, whether it be from complications involving the immune system, or treatment, or because the disease can affect the heart and lungs. Or perhaps it is because people automatically focus on the word 'arthritis' and the connotations that come with that, such as it being 'a few aches and pains' or it's supposed association with the elderly. People don't realise the extent of the pain sufferers of the disease, like me, go through on a daily basis. I have pain every day. I dread waking up in the morning because I know that the pain is going to be worst at this time of day. I fear the simplest of every day tasks that most other people take for granted, such as opening a bottle of Diet Coke, getting in and out of the bath, or changing my daughter's nappy, because I know how much pain it is going to cause me. I have to make choices such as deciding between being in constant severe pain and risking further joint damage or taking medication which makes me vomit and lose my hair. And on top of all that I have to cope with the constant, extreme fatigue that the disease inflicts. The worst part of it all though is that there is no cure; I will be living with rheumatoid arthritis for the rest of my life and inevitably have many more hospital visits, treatments, and operations ahead of me. And yet I am one of the lucky ones; I can walk, have very few visible joint deformities, and have so far been able to lead a relatively 'normal' life.<br />
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Whatever the reasons, the fact is that to this day many people still do not take the disease seriously, and for that reason I find myself being envious of cancer's share of the cake.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPHCVm4pgBRPBNm8CkR9c-u96iwIexZ51ibqp5fEjPW5Ri8AfeGskFffanC0hgWOo4PyVHyojPv3Mf68nTocI-6gXBiKDocN8wnCg874xjN4So77W0N4958owb2Ett-3QEQzZsMRvjDc0/s1600/CupcakeBirthday-thumb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPHCVm4pgBRPBNm8CkR9c-u96iwIexZ51ibqp5fEjPW5Ri8AfeGskFffanC0hgWOo4PyVHyojPv3Mf68nTocI-6gXBiKDocN8wnCg874xjN4So77W0N4958owb2Ett-3QEQzZsMRvjDc0/s1600/CupcakeBirthday-thumb.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here is a picture of a cake, for no reason other than the fact that I like cake. </td></tr>
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<br />Cat Bullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10205138989779416644noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3968784780121263301.post-7746095688401621492014-03-26T20:19:00.001+00:002014-03-26T20:46:00.882+00:00Some things I need to tell you1. Please stop telling me that my daughter 'has' my cheeks. I currently have steroid cheeks. Any resemblance is purely coincidental, and all you are achieving is reminding me that my face currently resembles that of a chubby, albeit very cute (see below), baby.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDYaniBtzl2of8RykbnXyco1JgLxjgMvmvCEi5OpJMs5XQrKMp8VQpmx-AOvHkBthn25dEcYq8CEtj8_5DUnbp1q9zDZAwOyK7lyrn8V0g_O2wJ154aulL2Ag24AF2az5IF-Hyu1XEx-4/s1600/1959588_10152015970245852_1446898004_n+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDYaniBtzl2of8RykbnXyco1JgLxjgMvmvCEi5OpJMs5XQrKMp8VQpmx-AOvHkBthn25dEcYq8CEtj8_5DUnbp1q9zDZAwOyK7lyrn8V0g_O2wJ154aulL2Ag24AF2az5IF-Hyu1XEx-4/s1600/1959588_10152015970245852_1446898004_n+(1).jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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2. A couple weeks ago I went to University College London to attend an Advisory Board meeting for the Centre for Adolescent Rheumatology. Adolescence can be a pretty turbulent time as it is, in terms of physical, emotional and educational development, let alone with the added trauma of living with a chronic illness such as rheumatoid arthritis. The Centre aims to improve the health and well being of adolescents and young adults with arthritis (and other rheumatic diseases, too) through cutting edge research. It's the first of it's kind and I am privileged to sit on the Board representing young people with arthritis. You can find out more here:<br />
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<a href="http://www.centre-for-adolescent-rheumatology.org/">www.centre-for-adolescent-rheumatology.org</a><br />
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3. Apparently 'rheumatology' isn't a recognized word on Google Blogger.<br />
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4. I am currently not very well, and haven't been for a few weeks. I'm still waiting for my new treatment to start, and in the meantime I am surviving on a cocktail of steroids, ibuprofen and tramadol. Joints that currently hurt include, but are not limited to, ankles, knees, hips, wrists, shoulders and neck. I can't remember the last time I woke up without being in agony.<br />
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5. It may come as a surprise to you, but not everything about having arthritis is bad. Since my diagnosis I have been lucky enough to meet some inspirational people, including an incredible lady called Kris. Kris was diagnosed with terminal breast cancer at the age of 23. Since then, via her charity <a href="http://www.coppafeel.org/" target="_blank">CoppaFeel!</a>, she has dedicated her life to encouraging young people to get to know their boobs so that others do not have to suffer the same fate as her. If you have plans tonight, cancel them, and watch her documentary - Kris: Dying to Live - on BBC3 at 9PM. Or if you're reading this too late, catch up on iPlayer. And then start checking your boobs.<br />
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6. Not one person nominated me to do a 'No Make-up Selfie' for charity. I am trying not to take this personally.<br />
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7.<i> </i>And finally... <i>That Girl With Arthritis</i> now has a Facebook page. If you like what you read, or just want to do your bit in the name of awareness raising, please 'like' the page and spread the word. If you do I'll give you a share of my winnings when I win Euromillions this week.*<br />
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<a href="http://www.facebook.com/thatgirlwitharthritis">www.facebook.com/thatgirlwitharthritis</a><br />
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*Win not guaranteed, mostly because someone named Catherine Bull already won Euromillions a couple of years ago.Cat Bullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10205138989779416644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3968784780121263301.post-46355305698420069172014-01-24T15:41:00.000+00:002014-02-12T12:25:30.575+00:00Is that why your face is so round?Recently Isla and I celebrated mummy-daughter hip week, which essentially involves a two-yearly fake hip review for mummy and an ultrasound scan for daughter. I'm pretty sure it'll be the 'hip' new craze soon. Ugh, sorry.<br />
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As you may remember from two years ago, every two years I pay a visit to the surgeon who performed my hip replacement operation. It's now been six years since that life changing op, and due to my age and my active lifestyle even the cleverest of surgeons can't predict how long it will be before I need it replacing again. Pretty much everything about this appointment, whether it be my emotions on the day or the radiographer's 'Aren't you a bit young for that?' reaction to learning that I have had my hip replaced*, was exactly the same as two years ago so to save my arthritic hands the trouble of typing it all again, have a read of <a href="http://thatgirlwitharthritis.blogspot.co.uk/2012_01_01_archive.html" target="_blank">this</a> instead. Most importantly though, like two years ago, I STILL HAVE TWO GOOD HIPS.<br />
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*I'm pretty sure she was the same radiographer that x-rayed my hip two years ago, asked me the same question two years ago, and looked confused two years ago.<br />
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When Isla was born she was found to have a slightly clicky right hip. Despite knowing that, although children can develop arthritis at a very young age, they are not born with it, my boyfriend and I couldn't help but exchange a slightly worried glance/awkward laugh at each other when we were told this. I wouldn't wish my disease on my worst enemy, let alone my own child, but I have to live with the knowledge that Isla (and any other children I may go on to have) is more likely to develop rheumatoid arthritis because of me. Despite being a rational doctor and semi-rational human being I know that every time she complains of the slightest pain in any of her joints at the back of my mind I will be panicking that this is the start of juvenile onset arthritis. This disease has taken away any chance I had of being a rational mother.<br />
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Clicky hips at birth are actually pretty common though, and more often than not nothing to worry about. Just to be sure though Isla had to have an ultrasound scan at 12 weeks old, which was absolutely fine. The consultant who performed the scan however was ABSOLUTELY NOT FINE. Our conversation went something like this:<br />
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Him: "Is there any history of hip problems at birth in your family?"<br />
Me: "No, but I have rheumatoid arthritis and I had my hip replaced when I was 20."<br />
Him: Are you on steroids?"<br />
Me: "Unfortunately, yes."<br />
Him: "Is that why your face is so round?"<br />
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I have several issues with this.<br />
1. Why would you think it's OK to ask a girl why her face is 'so round'?<br />
2. Why would you think it's OK to ask someone on steroids why their face is 'so round'?<br />
3. Why would you think it's OK to ask ANYONE why their face is 'so round'?<br />
4. IT WASN'T EVEN MY BLOODY APPOINTMENT.<br />
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But, seeing as he so kindly brought it up, now seems like as good a time as any to talk a little bit about steroids. I've mentioned them several times before, but never really gone into great detail about them. I have a bit of a love-hate relationship with steroids. I love them because they reduce inflammation, ease pain, and essentially help me to function in every day life. I hate them because...well, I believe this stunning diagram found in many a medical text book summarises it better than I ever could:<br />
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The steroid I take is called Prednisolone, which suppresses the immune system and in doing so reduces inflammation. If you take Prednisolone for long periods of time like I have you become particularly prone to infections because your immune system is weak. These infections may also be much more severe than they usually would be, so I have to be careful to avoid exposure to infections such as chicken pox and measles. I am also eligible for the seasonal flu jab along with the elderly.<br />
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As you can see from the incredibly attractive diagram above, the side effects don't end there. In fact, the <a href="http://www.nhs.uk/medicine-guides/pages/MedicineSideEffects.aspx?condition=Rheumatoid%20arthritis&medicine=prednisolone&preparation=Prednisolone%202.5mg%20gastro-resistant%20tablets" target="_blank">NHS website</a> lists 77 potential side effects of Prednisolone in total. Mood swings and changes are common, which means one minute I can be happy and the next sad, and I can be extremely short-tempered. My boyfriend would argue that I'm pretty short-tempered anyway, however I'm willing to blame this entirely on my medication and not on my flawed personality. He won't argue with this because I'm short-tempered due to my medication.<br />
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Although I wouldn't go as far as saying I have an 'obesity' problem as the diagram suggests, I currently weigh more than I did when I was pregnant. I WAS CARRYING AN EXTRA PERSON FOR CRYING OUT LOUD and yet still not as heavy as I am now. This is in part due to water retention and partly because steroids also increase your appetite, so I am always hungry. Prednisolone also tends to cause your face to begin to resemble the moon or, to give it the medical term, 'moon facies'. So in answer to your question Dr Insensitive, yes that is why my face is 'so round' and I'd like to take this opportunity to thank you for making me feel even more self-conscious about it than I already do.<br />
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As we learnt <a href="http://thatgirlwitharthritis.blogspot.co.uk/2011/09/day-64-80-year-old-bones.html" target="_blank">a couple years ago</a> long term steroid use has also left me with osteoporosis, which means my bones are thinner than they should be and are more prone to fractures. I'm also currently covered in bruises, and I have two tiny cuts on my leg that have taken over a month to heal.<br />
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That all said, Prednisolone is doing a great job at keeping me going at the moment until the time comes to start the new wonder drug. I have already had the mandatory chest x-ray and blood tests, so now it's just a case of waiting for the call. In the meantime I'm off to find some doughnuts.<br />
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<br />Cat Bullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10205138989779416644noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3968784780121263301.post-12960701505090767612014-01-05T21:16:00.002+00:002014-02-12T12:25:51.453+00:002013: A review<div style="text-align: justify;">
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As I logged on to write my annual review of the last year of my life I actually let out a little gasp as I realised my last post was written back in August 2013. I knew I'd been away for a while, I just hadn't realised quite how long that while was. As well as taking maternity leave from my job I also decided to take maternity leave from my blog. It's just a shame that I can't take maternity leave from arthritis, too, but I'll save that whinge for another time. </div>
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Before I remind you (and myself) about the highlights of my twelfth year of living with arthritis, I thought I'd share my New Year's resolutions with you all:</div>
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1. Lose baby weight. </div>
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2. Stop eating so many doughnuts in order to stand a chance at achieving point 1. </div>
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3. Be well enough to reduce steroid dose in order to stand a chance at achieving point 1.</div>
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3. Get better at updating blog. </div>
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And so to the main reason for this blog post. Inevitably there have been bad times as well as good, mainly due to pain but with a few weeks of serious morning sickness thrown in for good measure. However, some amazing things have happened that mean that life right now, despite the pain, couldn't be better. </div>
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- Getting through my last year of university.</div>
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- Agreeing to marry my best friend.</div>
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- Great times with great friends. </div>
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- Isla Rose Wade. </div>
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- Going another year without letting this bitch of a disease defeat me. </div>
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Happy New Year!</div>
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Cat Bullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10205138989779416644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3968784780121263301.post-26669449627291662682013-08-20T17:04:00.000+01:002014-02-12T12:26:09.591+00:00Dr Catherine Bull MBChB<i>A man went to his doctor complaining of aches and pains all over his body. </i><br />
<i>"Doctor, my whole body hurts," he moaned. </i><br />
<i>The doctor asked him to show him exactly where the pain was.</i><br />
<i>The man touched his shoulder - "Ouch."</i><br />
<i>The man touched his knee - "Ouch."</i><br />
<i>The man touched his nose - "Ouch."</i><br />
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<i>"You've got a broken finger."</i><br />
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My boyfriend told me this joke a few days ago. It's relevant for two reasons:<br />
1. My index finger currently resembles a sausage.<br />
2. I'm now an actual doctor.<br />
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This blog post is a few weeks overdue actually, because my graduation ceremony was back in July. For once though it's not because I'm completely rubbish at finding time to blog. I've opened this page several times over the last few weeks, but it's been really difficult to put my feelings from that day into words. I have passed some of the time by searching for pictures of sausage fingers online. I didn't find any, but I did find this:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkk9bUPuSiheK4Kqc5lVWwgZEU_onL_3jv7QVWwSsqXJgb-_6IXntYm2q0a8d0lnFIW7ISU_2I07EhpD7mVjUQbYfg76Ipm9H9ojr64ZILwOhNBFo1gHUntZeJ84gRKRotww5AUOdzWXw/s1600/clever_sausage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkk9bUPuSiheK4Kqc5lVWwgZEU_onL_3jv7QVWwSsqXJgb-_6IXntYm2q0a8d0lnFIW7ISU_2I07EhpD7mVjUQbYfg76Ipm9H9ojr64ZILwOhNBFo1gHUntZeJ84gRKRotww5AUOdzWXw/s1600/clever_sausage.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I have a sausage finger AND I graduated.</td></tr>
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It appears that I have sunk to new lows in the name of procrastination. </div>
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The truth is I don't think I'll ever be able to put into words how I felt that day, because there are no words in existence that would do it justice. My only solution is to describe to you my journey over the last eight years and let you imagine for yourself. I realise that this involves a bit of effort on your part, but I did just provide you with a picture of a sausage wearing a mortar board so I think it's only fair.</div>
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It's fair to say that most, if not all, people doubted whether I'd ever be able to make it as a doctor. It's not that people thought I wasn't capable but, let's face it, how many doctors do you know that have RA? Medicine is hard enough without all the pain, immobility, fatigue, and hospital stays that the disease brings. Careers advisors at college strongly advised me to consider another degree. Medical students on my course gossipped behind my back asking each other, "How is she going to be a doctor if she's got RA?" Even my parents, though they didn't admit it to me until recently and have always supported me, were horrified when I first told them I wanted to be a doctor. But, as regular readers of this blog will know, I'm not one to shy away from a challenge. And a challenge it definitely was...</div>
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May 2005 I become ill just at the time I am about to sit my AS level exams. </div>
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August 2005 I don't get the grades I need to apply for medicine. </div>
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October 2005 I apply anyway. I don't get in.</div>
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October 2006 I reapply for medicine and take a gap year to resit my exams. </div>
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March 2007 I get accepted to the University of Leeds. </div>
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April 2007 I get told by my rheumatologist that I need my hip replaced. The operation is scheduled for the first day of university. I cancel it. </div>
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September 2007 I hobble around for a term, sleep for around 15 hours a day, don't make it to many lectures, with the end result being I fail my first exam. </div>
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December 2007 I finally get a new hip. </div>
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March 2008 I am allowed back to university at last, having missed most of the second term and two more exams. </div>
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July 2008 Whilst everyone else is enjoying their summer holidays, I spend mine sitting every single first year exam in the space of one week. I pass. </div>
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January 2009 My first of many gastritis-related hospital stays and my first of many endoscopies. </div>
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January 2010 Another gastritis-related hospital stay. Another endoscopy. </div>
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May 2010 The tonsillitis I have developed gets out of hand as my immune system cannot cope. I end up in hospital for a week following a collapse in A&E. </div>
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July 2010 I fail an exam, mainly due to being ill (again) but also in part due to my poor knowledge of the female anatomy ("Considering you're a woman, Cat, you have surprisingly poor knowledge of the anatomy of the female genitalia." - Dr Pat McConnell, Anatomy Lecturer, University of Leeds). I am told I have to resit third year.</div>
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March 2011 The treatment I am on suddenly stops working, I visit my GP so many times in one week that I'm surprised they don't take out a restraining order against me. I miss several weeks of placement through illness. </div>
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January 2012 Another hospital stay and another endoscopy means I miss my psychiatry placement and have to rearrange it for the summer holidays. </div>
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September 2012 I am admitted to hospital after the ear infection I have developed gets out of hand because apparently my immune system doesn't do ear infections. </div>
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November 2012 Hospital stay, endoscopy, yada yada. </div>
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May 2013 I PASS MY EXAMS. </div>
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July 2013 I am finally able to put two fingers up to every single person who ever told me I wouldn't be able to become a doctor and, most importantly, to RA. </div>
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<br />Cat Bullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10205138989779416644noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3968784780121263301.post-78066295986025917612013-06-10T10:55:00.000+01:002014-02-12T12:28:31.392+00:00Six months of news<div style="text-align: justify;">
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Yes, I'm still here. I know, it's been a while. For some reason, I was actually given work to do. At university. What IS that? What have six years of medicine taught me? That I should have chosen a normal degree.</div>
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Right. It's really hard to know where to start when you haven't written a blog post for SIX WHOLE MONTHS. If I had had the chance to tell you about what's been happening in my life I would have probably told you about the time I went to see Girls Aloud at the O2 in London with my friend, Sophie, and her mum, Tricia, and how my arms ached for days afterwards from all the clapping and arm waving, and how they left out one of my favourite songs, probably because Sarah Harding would have sounded a bit like this: </div>
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I would have also probably told you about the amazing holiday my boyfriend and I recently went on, and how my hip set off the metal detectors at Gatwick Airport, and how the security officer oh so originally questioned whether I was too young to have had a hip replaced, and how it didn't set off the metal detectors at Chania Airport and I obviously therefore assumed we were going to die.</div>
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I would have also blogged around the time of year when I'm usually panicking, realizing I've got a marathon to run in a couple of months, and at least starting to consider putting on a pair of trainers. You would have heard that this year, however, was different and that I spent most of my evenings sat on the sofa, eating family-sized portions of banoffee pie out of the packet, with no intention of even getting up to find my trainers let alone putting them on. Once I even found myself watching Eastenders WEARING THE SAME CARDIGAN AS JEAN. I really need to start running again. </div>
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When I first realized I wouldn't be able to run the London Marathon this year I was gutted. Regular readers of this blog will know how much the London Marathon means to me, and the thought that I wouldn't be a part of it this year was even more painful than the run itself. But instead I got to be part of it in a different way - as a spectator cheering the thousands of incredible people running for important causes, including two very special people running on behalf of myself and Arthritis Research UK. </div>
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I've always found running the London Marathon to be emotional, but this year brought a whole new meaning to the word as I proudly cheered on my boyfriend, James, and one of my best friends, Alex, along the 26 mile course. Oh and by the way, they also happened to raise over £3000 between them for arthritis research in the process. </div>
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...What else? At some point I probably would have felt the need to update you on my health. Part of the reason I haven't updated my blog in so long is because there hasn't really been a lot to talk about. This is a good thing for two reasons; one, because you haven't had to lose ten minutes of your life every couple of weeks reading about arthritis and two, because it basically means I haven't had much pain to grumble about. As a result I've even been able to stop taking medication for a while. </div>
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And I would have at some point told you that I'm up the duff. I really hope you didn't just have to go and look that phrase up on Urban Dictionary like my friend Diviya. </div>
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On that awful day in 2002 when I was diagnosed the freedom to have a baby whenever I so wish was taken away from me, possibly even forever. Some of the medications used to treat the disease are toxic to an unborn child, whilst the effects on a foetus of others are currently unknown. So I was told that if I ever want to get pregnant I would have to be medication free for at least six months before even trying to conceive. And then not take any medication whilst I am pregnant. And then still not take any medication whilst I am breastfeeding. Oh and somehow stay pain free so that I can actually function and, most importantly, hold my baby. For several years this simply has never been an option, because I have been too ill to stop taking medication for six days let alone six months. So when the chance arose I jumped at it...and I couldn't be happier.</div>
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Finally I would have told you about a great blog I have found written by someone else with arthritis who isn't 40 years older than me and who actually makes me laugh as opposed to making me want to eat my body weight in banoffee pie like so many other arthritis blogs do. I think you should read it.</div>
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<a href="http://arthritisactually.wordpress.com/">http://arthritisactually.wordpress.com/</a></div>
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See?</div>
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You didn't really miss much.</div>
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And I've now finished what will hopefully turn out to be my last ever exams, so yay, we all win. </div>
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Cat Bullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10205138989779416644noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3968784780121263301.post-15706506471985610862013-01-02T21:33:00.000+00:002014-02-12T12:32:57.863+00:00Happy New Year<br />
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In my final blog of 2011 I said I had a good feeling about 2012...and now I am seriously considering a career change and becoming a psychic. </div>
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Before I talk about the good things, I should probably update you on where my RA is at right now. A few weeks ago I got an early Christmas present in the form of a flare up (FYI Santa next year I'd prefer coal in my stocking). It's difficult to undo my bra or to take off my coat or to open bottles of diet coke without asking random strangers to help (with the bottles that is, not my bra). </div>
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Not even a flare up can put a dampener on 2012, though. Yes, there have been some bad times as well as good. My year started with me making my way around half the hospitals of England thanks to my disease, and as the year came to a close I had to endure another two more stays in hospital. It was also the year that yet another treatment failed. But, and it's a big but, some amazing things have happened in between that have helped to make 2012 the best year of my life so far.</div>
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- Meeting a boy.</div>
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- Completing my fourth London Marathon, learning that I have way too much Britney on my iPod, and proving that arthritis does not have to stop you achieving your goals.</div>
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- Carrying the Olympic Torch and forgetting I was in pain for a whole 300 metres. Hands down the best day of my life...so far.</div>
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- Passing my exams and entering my final year at medical school.</div>
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- Going to the Olympic stadium...even if the only way I could manage it was in a wheelchair.</div>
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- Walking with Phil Packer on the last lap of his 2012 mile walk raising awareness of his charity, the <a href="http://www.britishinspirationtrust.org.uk/" target="_blank">British Inspiration Trust</a>. A wonderful friend and an inspirational mentor.</div>
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- A much needed holiday. </div>
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- The Arthritis Research UK RHS Chelsea Flower Show garden. </div>
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- Talking about joints to anyone that would listen...including Rob Brydon.</div>
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- Celebrating 10 years of fighting RA.</div>
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- Going another whole year without letting this bitch of a disease defeat me. </div>
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2013 has a hard act to follow...</div>
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Happy New Year! </div>
Cat Bullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10205138989779416644noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3968784780121263301.post-90970034637024372452012-11-11T00:22:00.000+00:002014-02-12T14:11:59.803+00:00But you drink so much milk!<div style="text-align: justify;">
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Things that happen when your flatmate leaves you on your own on a Saturday night:</div>
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- You sing the theme tune to The Big Bang Theory, out loud, to yourself, including "WE BUILT THE PYRAMIDS" in an overly enthusiastic voice. </div>
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- You download Taylor Swift's latest 'hit'.</div>
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- You sing along to YouTube videos of Les Miserables. On repeat. </div>
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- You vote for Rylan.</div>
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- You update your blog.</div>
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Guess what I've been up to again recently. I'll give you a clue:</div>
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Yep, as you can see my 'hospital free year' has not exactly gone to plan so far. For the second time in six weeks I've found myself on a hospital trolley in A&E, although this time in a hospital back home in Surrey so at least I'm doing the decent thing and sharing out my problems between trusts. You're welcome, National Health Service. </div>
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With my ear infection slash compressed facial nerve slash asymmetrical brain issues well and truly behind me my attention was now turned to a pain in my stomach. To illustrate just how much pain I was in, allow me to present exhibit A:</div>
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These are the burn marks on my back from a hot water bottle. This hot water bottle had to be so hot to make the slightest bit of difference to my pain that it BURNED me and yet this was still the preferred option to putting up with the pain without it. </div>
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To cut a long six day story (involving numerous syringes of morphine, a lack of underwear, yet another camera down the throat and a crazy lady called Elizabeth) short, it turns out the entire lining of my stomach was inflamed in the worst case of gastritis I have suffered to date. "BUT YOU DRINK SO MUCH MILK", I hear you cry (OK I don't, but if you saw how much milk I drink in a day things would be different). Although the anti-inflammatory drugs I take do wonders for my RA pain they can, rather inconveniently, cause damage to other parts of my body in the process. In this case it's my stomach that has fallen victim again. Anyway I'm now out of hospital and on the mend and getting myself as fit as possible before RA has yet another go at inconveniencing my life. </div>
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Oh and by the way, just in case you ever find yourself home alone on a Saturday night in the future I highly recommend singing along to this.</div>
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Cat Bullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10205138989779416644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3968784780121263301.post-57093444136825105702012-09-18T14:48:00.001+01:002014-02-12T14:12:23.816+00:00What do you get if you cross an RA sufferer with an ear infection?<div style="text-align: justify;">
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A hospital admission and a suspected brain infection. </div>
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Apologies if anyone was expecting a hilarious punch line there, but a) I'm not a funny person and b) this was no joke - this actually happened to me last week. </div>
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Having had at least one admission to hospital every year since I started university five years ago I was adamant that this would be my year. Yep, I was going to have one whole admission-free year before becoming a doctor...I made it to day 1 before ending up in a hospital bed. Note the use of the word 'to' - I didn't even make it to my first lecture. I'd laugh if it didn't hurt my ear so much.</div>
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The problem* with having RA is that the medication used to treat it suppresses my immune system. For the average person getting an ear infection might be a bit uncomfortable and a bit inconvenient. For someone who is immunosuppressed getting an ear infection, or any kind of infection for that matter, can be very dangerous. Because my immune system is weak it finds fighting off even the simplest infections a challenge, and this is what led to the series of unfortunate events that I will now go on to tell you about. </div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">*NB There are many more problems than just this with having RA</span></i></div>
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Saturday. I visit an out-of-hours GP with ear pain severe enough to keep me awake at night. She diagnoses a middle ear infection and gives me antibiotics. </div>
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Sunday. I am now in so much pain that I am overdosing on pain relief in an attempt to get some sleep (Disclaimer: as a doctor to be I obviously do not condone this behaviour). </div>
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Monday. I visit my GP because the antibiotics don't seem to be working and the pain is getting worse, not better despite dosing up on Tramadol (see previous blog entry about Tramadol). He touches my ear, I cry. A lot. He attempts to look in my ear, I cry. A lot. He sends me to hospital where I am seen by an ENT specialist. Repeat previous sentences re: ear touching and crying. I am admitted and dosed up on IV antibiotics and morphine. I still don't sleep. </div>
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Wednesday. The pain is no better, I still haven't slept, my temperature is through the roof, and I can no longer eat because the pain has spread to my jaw. The ENT consultant sends me for a CT scan.</div>
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Thursday am. ENT consultant tells me on the ward round that the CT scan looks clear. He needs to get a radiologist to report it, but <i>he's sure it's fine</i>. </div>
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Thursday pm. CT scan is not fine. My parotid gland and brain look abnormal. It is suspected that the infection has spread to my brain. I am sent for an MRI scan. An MRI scan is not a nice experience at the best of times. But when you are in agony and have to lie completely still for 40 minutes, without even crying because this would cause your head to move, it becomes an horrific experience. Fortunately the MRI confirms there is no brain infection. It has however spread to my parotid gland which is pressing on my facial nerve. Incidentally one half of my brain is apparently bigger than the other...make of that what you will. </div>
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Friday am. I am told I can go home. </div>
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Friday am. I am told I cannot go home.</div>
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Saturday am. Doctors discover an abscess in my ear canal. They drain it. The 'horrific' MRI scan is nothing compared to this experience. I have a panic attack. </div>
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Saturday pm. I can finally go home with antibiotics and pain relief. </div>
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At this point I should probably mention my long suffering boyfriend who endured the majority of this traumatic week with me. No one likes to see someone they love sobbing because they are in so much pain (especially as I am an ugly crier, he tells me). And holding your girlfriend's hand and talking crap to her for 40 minutes whilst she attempts not to cry mid-MRI scan is probably not anyone's ideal way of spending an evening, but he did it. And he even managed to sneak me in a Maccy D's at one point as well. So big kudos to the boyfriend. </div>
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Right ok, now I've got that un-funny tale out of the way I'll try to end with a joke. </div>
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A man walks into a pub with a piece of tarmac under his arm and says, "One for me and one for the road."</div>
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No? Told you I'm not funny.</div>
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Cat Bullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10205138989779416644noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3968784780121263301.post-49047917726242567912012-08-02T20:48:00.000+01:002014-02-12T14:16:06.486+00:00I'm still standing (literally)<div style="text-align: justify;">
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Exactly 10 years ago today my life changed forever. On 2nd August 2002 I was officially diagnosed with rheumatoid factor positive polyarticular juvenile idiopathic arthritis. </div>
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This morning the boyfriend wished me a happy 10 year anniversary before he left for work. I realise you may find it strange for someone to use the word 'happy', or to even acknowledge it let alone celebrate the occasion as I plan to do this weekend. After all, what could possibly be happy about 10 years of pain? And you'd be right, there have been more tough times over the last decade than I can count on my crippled fingers and toes. At 14 years old I was being fed, washed, and dressed by my mum, carried by my dad, and was so unwell that I dropped down to just six and a half stone. If someone had told me back then that in 10 years time I would be able to walk and have the majority of my independence back, let alone being just nine months away from becoming a doctor, having run four marathons and climbed Mount Kilimanjaro, with a boyfriend who isn't freaked out by my condition, and having just carried the Olympic flame, well...I wouldn't have believed them that's for sure. </div>
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I may still have a life long battle with this disease to contend with, but in the last 10 years I have come a long way, and THAT'S what I'm celebrating.</div>
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Cat Bullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10205138989779416644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3968784780121263301.post-15040491223785405652012-06-24T12:13:00.000+01:002014-02-12T12:15:14.208+00:00THIS HAPPENED.<br />
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<br />Cat Bullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10205138989779416644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3968784780121263301.post-65086416931659288212012-06-08T20:06:00.002+01:002014-02-12T14:18:10.576+00:00The last day<div style="text-align: justify;">
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I started this blog 344 days ago as I was about to embark on my third biological treatment. And you know how the saying goes, third time lucky and all that. Well, not for me it seems. That treatment, if I was one of the lucky ones, could keep me symptom free for up to a year - a dream come true for someone who has been in pain every day for over nine years. But anyone who has done primary school maths will realise that 344 days is not a year. Not only has it not kept me symptom free for a year, but already my rheumatologist has decided that it's failing altogether. </div>
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For the last few months I have been struggling with what I can only describe as extreme fatigue... not that I've mentioned it much or anything. According to my rheumatologist, this means that the disease is still very much active. Well that, plus the multiple swollen joints are probably a bit of a clue. </div>
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So it's onto biological treatment number four: Tocilizumab. On the one hand I'm incredibly grateful that there is a 4th treatment available (and a 5th, and a 6th, and a 12th for that matter). But on the other hand I can't help but be losing hope a bit. How many treatments am I going to have to put my ever-crippling body through before I stumble (literally) across one that actually works? And what if none of them work? The longer it takes to find a successful treatment the more damage is being done to my joints, and potentially my heart and lungs too. Plus there's a big downside to this new joint juice... I have to go into hospital once a month for it. I'll be honest, being told I have to give up half a day of my life every single month, potentially for the rest of my life, to spend in arguably the most depressing place in the world for an RA sufferer, is not the best news I've ever received. But I've had 10 days to process it all. I've got my tears out the way. And now I'm ready to fight this thing harder than ever. </div>
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My journey with Rituximab may have come to an end, but I'm going to continue sharing my journey as I fight this disease and find out whether this new drug will be the one to transform my life. </div>
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Cat Bullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10205138989779416644noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3968784780121263301.post-66748402791616874462012-04-26T18:54:00.000+01:002014-02-12T14:21:01.895+00:00Day 301: Pain is nothing compared to what it feels like to quit.<div style="text-align: justify;">
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Things I expected Sunday to be:</div>
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Wet.</div>
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Long.</div>
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Painful.</div>
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Things I did not expect Sunday to be:</div>
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SobFest 2012.</div>
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I think I've just about stopped crying for long enough to tell you about one of the hardest days of my life. At 9:45AM on Sunday I took my place on the starting line of my fourth London marathon. I wish I had known then what I would know just seven hours later... that this was to be my last London marathon. </div>
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The first few miles were great; the sun was shining, Team Cat was on top form, and I had an overwhelming urge to high five every child/adult/object in sight. But, as ever, RA was determined to do it's best to ruin my day, and chose mile 7 to start to attack my knees. By mile 19 I could barely even get my leg off the ground, let alone run, and for pretty much the first time in the history of my life I considered letting the disease win. Had it not been for Team Cat pushing me to carry on, walking with me and, at one point, literally holding me up, I genuinely believe that I wouldn't have made it across that finishing line. But, somehow, I did it. </div>
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I have never cried at a marathon before, even under the influence of the mile 16 cider last year. But this year I think it's fair to say I more than made up for it. I didn't cry because of the pain, though. I have always said that I will run the London marathon every year until my body won't let me anymore. Well this year, at mile 19, I realised that this time had come, and I made the heartbreaking decision that this marathon would be my last. I think people think I'm being dramatic when I use the word 'heartbreaking', but the marathon has become so much more than a 26 mile run to me. Over the last four years it has become my way of regaining that little bit of control over my body, and proving to myself that I have the strength and courage to beat this disease. As it turns out, pain is nothing compared to what it feels like to quit. From the moment I made that decision every time I saw friends, family, or ARUK supporters cheering me on and screaming my name that was it, I booed it big time. With the finish line in sight Team Cat joined me in walking down the Mall. But I did not want my last memory of the London marathon to be of me hobbling over the finish line so somehow I managed to find the strength to run. And as I crossed that line for the fourth and final time an almighty cheer erupted from Team Cat behind me. That feeling at that moment is worth the 26.2 miles of pain every time, and I will carry it with me for the rest of my life. </div>
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Thank you to every single person who has come to support me, sent me messages of support, or sponsored me over the last four years, and to everyone at ARUK for giving me the opportunity to run for such a great charity year after year. Who knows; maybe in a few years I'll be able to give it another go. But for now, over and out.</div>
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Cat Bullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10205138989779416644noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3968784780121263301.post-56079456912483675762012-04-01T21:09:00.002+01:002014-02-12T14:22:31.989+00:00Day 276: So 2009<div style="text-align: justify;">
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Right, HOW is it 1st April already? I'm sure it was only last week I was sat here smugly telling you that I had 5 months and 11 days to go before the London Marathon. It's now 3 weeks to go before the London Marathon.</div>
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I know that since this is my fourth marathon now some of you are probably thinking this is old news, like <i>so</i> 2009. But I can assure you that this does not make it any less of a challenge... as much as I try to convince myself otherwise. 26.2 miles is still just as long as it was last year. It's still just as painful. And I'm still battling rheumatoid arthritis.</div>
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But there's something special about running the London Marathon - whether it's the kids handing out jelly babies and high-fiving you as you run past, or the complete strangers cheering you on and shouting your name, or the unbeatable sense of achievement as you hobble over that finish line in front of Buckingham Palace. The truth is I would be absolutely devastated if one year my body doesn't let me run anymore. People think I'm mad for wanting to put myself through that grueling 26.2 miles over and over again. But crossing that finish line on the Mall reminds me that I have the strength and courage to beat this disease, and that feeling is worth the 26.2 miles of pain every time. </div>
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So this is the point when I shamelessly ask you to donate money to Arthritis Research UK. It's thanks to the work done by ARUK that I am able to keep coming back to the London Marathon year after year. Had I been diagnosed even just 10 years earlier my prognosis would have been a lot worse, because the treatments simply weren't available. Not everyone is as lucky as me though. Not everyone responds as well to treatment as I have done. And, as yet, there is no cure. The work done by ARUK is vital so that new treatments and hopefully, one day, a cure can be found. And if you still need more persuading, just watch me attempt to climb stairs in the week following the marathon. </div>
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<a href="http://www.virginmoneygiving.com/catbull">www.virginmoneygiving.com/catbull</a></div>
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Cat Bullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10205138989779416644noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3968784780121263301.post-90334710959121918482012-03-16T21:40:00.000+00:002014-02-12T14:24:08.610+00:00Day 260: Another word for 'tired', please?<div style="text-align: justify;">
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I am doing everything in my power to not let this disease stop me living a 'normal' life. As you can see I am currently doing so well at this that I am in bed at 9:21PM. On a Friday night. Updating my blog. </div>
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I'm not in bed because I'm in pain, though. I mean, I am in pain. But I can fight pain. I cannot, however, fight fatigue. I thought I could, right up until last night when I had what can only be described as a highly embarrassing break down and found myself using the phrase, 'I can't cope anymore.' Now if you've ever read my blog before you will know that this is a phrase that just simply isn't in my vocabulary. But I cannot put on a brave face any more. I am suffering from severe chronic fatigue. I wake up tired. I go to placement tired. I make it to lunch time before I have to come home and sleep for three hours. I force myself to get up, still tired. And then a couple hours later I go to sleep for the night, usually by 9:30PM. This is what my 24-year-old life has become. I genuinely cannot remember the last time I didn't feel tired. On Wednesday I was actually scared to drive home from placement because I wasn't sure I could stay awake for long enough to make it back alive. Yesterday at 4:30PM I was so exhausted I actually thought I was going to pass out. And right now I am lying in bed sweating because I don't have the energy to stand up and turn the radiator off. My radiator is three metres away. </div>
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As if my energy levels weren't low enough already, I seem to be using the very little energy I do have attempting to explain to people how I am feeling. The problem lies with the word 'tired'. I can't say that I'm tired without the person next to me telling me they're tired, too. And they may well be. But that does not even come close to how I am feeling. The truth is, there is no word for how I am feeling. Someone needs to invent one and quick. I know what people are thinking. If I have afternoon naps (or 'Cat naps' as the boyfriend oh so HILARIOUSLY calls them) then I'm lazy. If I go to bed at 9:30PM then I'm boring. And if I don't fit any revision in around my busy schedule of sleeping then I don't work very hard. Yep, these are all ways in which I've been referred to by my friends, by the way. </div>
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I'm exhausted. I'm exhausted of being exhausted. And I'm exhausted of explaining that I'm exhausted. Anyway it's 9:30PM, and you know what that means...</div>
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Cat Bullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10205138989779416644noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3968784780121263301.post-30800985892147303182012-02-14T22:03:00.000+00:002014-02-12T14:26:33.137+00:00Day 229: The basement of Leeds General Infirmary<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So how did I spend my Valentine's Day? Sat alone in the basement of Leeds General Infirmary with some patient case notes about kids with arthritis and a box of mini muffins for company, that's how. Could be worse though, at least I didn't get a Valentine's Day card from my dog like my friend Thom. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I should probably explain what I was doing in the basement of Leeds General Infirmary... This is where the paediatric rheumatologists live. All 4th year medical students have to undertake a research project. Most people choose from a list of potential projects, but a few crazy people do what is known as a 'self design' - essentially you design your own project, find your own supervisor, and carry out the research by yourself. I am one of those crazy people. I am carrying out an audit of all children with any form of Juvenile Idiopathic Arthritis (JIA) under the care of the paediatric rheumatology team in Leeds, looking at the time interval between onset of symptoms and diagnosis of the disease. <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">Studies have shown that if a person is diagnosed within 12 weeks of their first symptoms they are more likely to respond to treatment and go into remission, thereby limiting joint damage. I've wanted to look into this for a while now, not only to show that this rarely happens but also to look into reasons <i>why</i> it rarely happens. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">My supervisor warned me back in September that I would find this hard; I just didn't realize quite </span><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">how</span></i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;"> hard it would be. Being told that there are around 300 patients with some form of arthritis being treated in Leeds is one thing; seeing the names of every single one of them written down in one folder is another. Unsurprisingly I've found that very few of these children were diagnosed within 12 weeks. In fact, some had had to suffer for up to seven years before their symptoms were finally recognized as JIA. This is unbelievably frustrating to read. It took six months for me to be diagnosed and to start treatment, and I wouldn't wish the pain and suffering that my family and I went through on my worst enemy. To know all these children are going through the same thing too is heartbreaking. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">With enough awareness one day we WILL live in a world where there is no late detection of inflammatory arthritis. </span></div>
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Cat Bullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10205138989779416644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3968784780121263301.post-32795455688896849382012-02-01T15:34:00.001+00:002014-02-13T10:47:02.983+00:00Day 216: Just one of those things<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
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Even I am getting a bit fed up of hospitals now. Over the last few weeks I’ve been gradually making my way around every hospital in Leeds. I’m an actual hospital whore. Two days after my joint juice infusion I found myself in the A&E department of Leeds General Infirmary. On a hospital trolley. On all fours. AGAIN. By this point I had had enough of the pain in my stomach and had had next to no sleep the night before (as did the poor boyfriend who stayed up until 4AM keeping me company until I fell asleep). Plus, having to look on helplessly whilst my friends ate their pizzas in Pizza Express whilst I struggled with my plate of dough balls quite frankly tipped me over the edge. </div>
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I was admitted and transferred to the gastro unit at St James’ Hospital, which meant I got to ride in the back of an ambulance. This might have been fun had I not felt like vomiting so much. In fact I only just made it to the ward before I vommed my stomach contents up into a cardboard bowl. And by stomach contents I obviously mean about a ml of water. </div>
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I was convinced it was gastritis. The doctors were convinced it was gastritis. All that was needed to confirm the diagnosis was an endoscopy. As I’ve mentioned before I’ve had two of these in the past, and I swore after the last time that I would never have one done again. I would genuinely rather have a camera up my bum than ever have to have one down my throat again. Unfortunately no one has bothered to invent a kinder way of looking at the lining of one’s stomach so I had very little choice. At least I’d have a diagnosis at the end of the ordeal though, right? Wrong. There was nothing wrong with my stomach lining. On hearing this news I burst into tears. The staff all looked at me like I was an absolute nutter; “you do realise that’s a GOOD thing, right?” Well no, actually, because the thing that everyone thought was causing me so much pain is in actual fact not, and now I have no freaking idea what’s wrong with me. And what’s worse, the DOCTORS have no freaking idea what’s wrong with me. Anyway, to cut a really long story short, six days, one x-ray, one endoscopy, one ultrasound scan, countless blood tests and several syringes of liquid morphine later I was diagnosed with... “just one of those things.” I bet <i>House</i> could have diagnosed me. </div>
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But on the plus side I got to go home and not so much as look at another hospital for a whole five days... until today. Yep, as I write this I’m back on ward 8 at Chapel Allerton Hospital again, because today is my second and final infusion of this joint juice cycle. And my appetite is slowly coming back, too. I even said yes to a biscuit with my cup of tea today. I’ll be having those three sides with my Nando’s burger again in no time.</div>
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Cat Bullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10205138989779416644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3968784780121263301.post-24718081871015590142012-01-18T20:53:00.000+00:002014-02-13T10:58:14.603+00:00Day 202: It's a good job I like hospitals<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">It's a good job I actually like hospitals because over the last couple of days I've barely spent any time anywhere else. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Yesterday I went to see the surgeon who performed my hip replacement four years ago. As I've mentioned before I find myself playing a bit of a waiting game now. <span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; text-align: justify;">For the average person who has a ceramic hip replacement like mine it is expected to last up to 10 years before it needs replacing again. However the average person who has a ceramic hip replacement is about 70, not 20 like I was. They're not as active as someone in their 20s, they're not training to be a doctor, and they almost certainly aren't running marathons or climbing mountains. So noone can really predict how long it's going to be before it will need replacing again. </span>I keep expecting my hip to need replacing again any day now. I guess I hope that if I expect it to happen then it won't come as such a shock when the inevitable does eventually happen and therefore it won't leave me as devastated as I was five years ago. But the truth is being told you need a hip replacement is always going to be devastating no matter how expected it is. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So as you can probably imagine I was pretty nervous walking into that clinic yesterday. Memories of five years ago came screaming back as I walked past a man limping out of a consultation room sobbing his heart out. So I had an xray (along with standard "you're a bit young to have had a hip replacement aren't you?" reaction from the radiographer) and headed over to hear my fate. And guess what... </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">What's more my surgeon assures me that they will stay that way for a long time yet, as long as I take good care of them that is. It's a good job I'm not running any marathons any time soon then isn't it...oh wait... Anyway I was so happy I genuinely skipped out of the clinic that day, you know, BECAUSE I CAN. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Following a five hour coach journey up the M1 and about as many hours sleep I found myself making my way, yet again, to what has pretty much become my second home up here in Leeds:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Yep, today I spent the day on ward 8 at Chapel Allerton Hospital having another joint juice infusion, and today my poor friend Isla had the misfortune of having to keep me company for seven hours. I use the word 'misfortune' because a ward full of people, most of whom are at least twice my age, having seven hour infusions is not exactly the most exciting place in the world. And Isla kindly agrees to keep me company and what do I do? I fall asleep don't I. On the plus side though I can finally add successfully navigating a drip stand into a toilet cubicle to my extensive list of talents. All the staff on the ward are lovely, however my fave nurse is Debby and I'm pretty sure I'm secretly her fave too. She hates having her photo taken but next time I have promised her I WILL get a picture of her for my blog...even if I have to resort to chasing her round the ward whilst still attached to my drip. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The only thing putting a downer on the last couple of days is my stomach. Not being able to eat properly has made me so depressed I wore the same outfit twice this week. For the first time ever I didn't mind being weighed in hospital today because the weight is literally just dropping off. This evening I thought I'd celebrate the last couple of days by treating myself to a McDonalds. I bought so much food that even the fatties on the table next to me were giving me judgmental looks. But could I eat it? Could I fuck. One bite of my burger and a handful of chips later I was in too much pain to battle on. First Nandos, now Maccy Ds - gastritis you are seriously taking the piss now. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So as you can see RA has pretty much taken over my week so far, but for once I don't care because I HAVE TWO GOOD HIPS.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Love,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Cat x</span></div>
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Cat Bullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10205138989779416644noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3968784780121263301.post-32614658701375587852012-01-14T13:13:00.000+00:002014-02-13T10:59:52.213+00:00Day 198: Publicizing my private life<div style="text-align: justify;">
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Since I've started this blog I've had lots of lovely messages of support and encouragement from both close friends and complete strangers alike. I've had people telling me that what I'm doing is a good thing, because before reading my blog they had no idea that young people could get arthritis or what it's like to live with it. And I've had other young sufferers of the disease getting in touch to tell me that reading my blog has given them encouragement to not let it ruin their lives, and that they no longer feel so alone in their crappy RA world. It's hearing things like that that make me feel like this is all worthwhile. However, unfortunately I also receive messages like this:</div>
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<i>"You know what, you're not the only one with life compromising illnesses, Cat. I just choose not to publicize my private life."</i></div>
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Errr, sorry, you think I don't know that I'm not the only person with a shit disease? You think I don't realize that I'm not the only person with RA? You think I bore myself silly talking about my disease all the freaking time FOR FUN? Funny enough I don't actually want everyone to know I have a chronic illness, or to know me as 'that girl with arthritis'. I am doing this for a reason: to raise awareness, to get people talking about it, to get people knowing the symptoms. I can't stop someone getting RA, but if it means that even just one person gets diagnosed earlier then I'll know it's been worthwhile 'publicizing my private life.' Oh, and as if that wasn't offensive enough, said person spelt 'you're' wrong, too. </div>
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But to everyone who doesn't think that I'm self centred and attention seeking, thank you for your continued support. Thank you for your kind messages. And most importantly thank you for reading.</div>
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Cat Bullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10205138989779416644noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3968784780121263301.post-26421321112240212212012-01-11T20:24:00.000+00:002012-01-11T20:24:33.856+00:00Day 195: The 'RA diet'<div style="text-align: justify;">I am now into day 10 of being unable to eat properly. In a bid to get some food down me mama Bull treated me and my sister to a Nandos lunch the other day, but I was still in such a bad way that I only ordered one side with my burger. ONE. And I didn't even finish the burger. Now most of the time I'm surprisingly ok with having RA - after almost 10 years I'm pretty used to it. But every so often I go through a 'pissed off' phase. I am currently in the middle of one of these phases. Mess with me all you want RA, but don't come between me and my Nandos. On the plus side I've lost 3kg over the last two weeks, so every cloud and all that... In fact my friends have started referring to it as the 'RA diet'. So if any of you have made New Year's resolutions to lose some weight, just get RA. Simple. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">There is another reason why I'm currently in a 'pissed off' phase though. On Monday I did my first training run of 2012. I only ran 5K. 5K is easy. But seemingly in retaliation for my attempt at some exercise RA decided to strike again and I woke up yesterday morning in excruciating pain and unable to weight bare on my left knee. Not the end of the world, I just limped around all day and moaned to my friends a bit. However by the time I woke up this morning my other knee had joined in the party too. And now at time of writing I have pain in my ankle and wrist too, so it looks like I might be heading towards a full blown flare. It's ok though, I'll just comfort eat to cheer myself up. Oh wait, that's right, I CAN'T BLOODY EAT CAN I. </div><br />
Love,<br />
Cat xCat Bullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10205138989779416644noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3968784780121263301.post-90900279282121498612012-01-09T16:34:00.002+00:002012-01-09T19:32:16.918+00:00Day 193: Someone get me a stomach transplant<div style="text-align: justify;">You may be wondering what my last post was about. Or you may not be. Either way I'm going to explain anyway. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">2012 hasn't exactly got off to the amazing start I'd hoped for. It was during the shit week that I've just had that I came across that quote, a quote which I don't think could possibly sum up my life any better right now. Since the day I was diagnosed my whole life has become a fight. And last week was no exception... </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Over the last couple of weeks I had started to get pain in my abdomen, radiating all the way through to my back. For a couple of weeks it was nothing more than a bit of a discomfort, nothing I couldn't handle (after all, being an arthritis warrior tends to give you a pretty high pain threshold). But by last Tuesday I could no longer eat anything without being doubled up in pain and I couldn't sleep because I was in agony. So on Tuesday evening I found myself, once again, in the A&E department of the Royal Surrey County Hospital and, much to the amusement of BFF Katie, on all fours with my head buried in a pillow. Doctors quickly confirmed my suspicions that I was having yet another episode of gastritis caused by some of the medication I take for my RA and I was kept in overnight for iv fluids, iv morphine, and anti-sickness treatment. I was allowed home on Wednesday with a big stash of Tramadol which basically means I have been spaced out, hallucinating, and projectile vomming ever since. But at least it's helping with the pain. However I'm still not managing to eat anything, and those of you who know me will know how much I love my food and therefore how much this is killing me. Today I couldn't even finish a six inch Subway sandwich. SIX INCH. AND I walked past the bakery aisle in Sainsbury's without even so much as looking at the doughnuts. Someone get me a stomach transplant pronto. This episode also means that over the next couple of weeks I will have to have another endoscopy to see whether or not I have developed any stomach ulcers. For anyone that doesn't know, an endoscopy is that procedure where doctors stick a camera down your throat to have a look at your stomach and small intestine. I've had it done twice before and after the last time I swore I'd never have one again. RA, you're a bitch. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">So once again I find myself fighting back against my disease... and I don't plan on giving up anytime soon.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Love,</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Cat x</div>Cat Bullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10205138989779416644noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3968784780121263301.post-53967775701087440302012-01-09T13:12:00.001+00:002012-02-01T15:40:26.008+00:00<i>"A disabled person who fights back is not disabled... but inspired."</i> - Sir Douglas Bader<br />
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I am fighting back.Cat Bullhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10205138989779416644noreply@blogger.com0