Excerpts from a book I'll never write

It’s been awhile since I’ve posted. That hasn’t been intentional and there’s a lot of unfinished posts that have been added to the folder of “Drafts” where all my Work In Progress pieces go that are made up of posts that just don’t seem to flow, are only a paragraph long or even a few sentences, and the ones that are actually finished but there’s just something about them that I can’t post. Maybe they’re just a little too special. The last month and a half we expected to be a relatively pain-free one after undergoing my second round of botox at the end of August. The idea behind botox for the treatment of migraines is that if you show signs of success after the first go, and then continue to improve, you can eventually extend the duration between treatments. My first round I had the most relief after just under a month so we were extremely hopeful for the second but I kind of shot myself in the foot after posting about the second injections. I had no improvement. If anything my he

With a month until my 21 st birthday I’m hit with an emotion that I can’t even begin to describe. Most would be planning their parties, sending out their invitations, and getting venues booked, and while that sounds like a nice idea, it’s just not me! Dinner with a few friends is perfect and that’s because this year I’m actually well enough to do something. Last year my birthday was spent in bed. Not exactly celebratory. The day after I managed to go out to the beach, and then have a little ice cream but ended up vomiting it all back up and was in bed by 5 that evening being the crazy 20 year old that I had just turned. But I had the people around me who mattered, and they didn’t care that my head was in a bucket. It’s funny though, even my 18 th wasn’t some big celebration, and looking back on it, it’s most likely because at that point I wasn’t getting proper treatment for my headaches and I was being plagued with them constantly and didn’t know how to manage them. Not that I’m

I just need to get this out there for all the people who don’t trust me: diving did not cause this. Diving was not, nor has it ever been the reason that I’m sick. You would not believe how many times I’ve been told by people “maybe if you hadn’t done platform” or “are you sure diving isn’t the reason you’re in pain” and the kicker “maybe you should’ve given up diving a long time ago” and not once has it come from a medical professional. Never has a doctor told me to give up or stop sport. Sure they may have advised me to slow down on what I was doing, cut back on platform and focus on the lower boards, but they’ve never told me to quit the thing that I love, the thing that kept me going and gave me a reason to get back on my feet, out of a hospital gown and the confines of the white wash walls. That advice has only come from the people who have no medical knowledge and really, who have no clue as to what’s going on in my body. But every time someone offers their little tidbit of unwan

May the Fourth. Star Wars day. And also the day we found the little bugger circulating my body and causing havoc amongst my joints. It’s been a year of medication, hospitalisations, and multiple tests. My body’s been pushed to the limits, physically, mentally, and emotionally. Medications were given from the get go: a malaria drug, then steroids, then chemo, then more steroids, then an immunosuppression usually used after organ transplants. New types of tests were run: lung functions every few months, bone density scans, dexa nuclear brain scan, blood tests every month to monitor liver function and inflammation levels. It’s been a year, and so much has changed, and yet so little hasn’t. I’m still sick. That fact will most likely never change. There were times in this past year where I had to use a wheelchair to get out of the house, and an almost purchase of one because I had gotten so bad. That was certainly a shock to the system. There was a buy of a cane that I do use for when

This is a post I didn’t think I’d have to write, or that I'd be writing so soon. Although it’s probably not that unexpected after the last few posts that outlined hospital stays and new treatments, but when you also see posts about life on the road you kind of hope that that part of every day is the one that is taking over. Sadly chronic illness is a full time job and whether I like it or not, I can’t get rid of the illnesses that plague me. Life on the farm has been good to me, the best thing that I could’ve done! It’s given me a chance to be in one spot while my body went through the worst flare it’s ever had, and allowed me to realise just how much I love animals. I mean I always knew I loved them; there was no doubt about that, but actually getting up everyday to work with the camels has just enhanced that love. Sounds mental saying that camels have made me love animals more, I mean they kick in all directions and kick to kill (and their kicks hurt like hell, believe me!), wil