Emergency Signs

6 Things You Can Do to Improve Your Experience With EMS

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Being an EMT and ski patroller the last three years, I have seen a fair amount of illness and injury. Of those I’ve treated, some have had cancer, arthritisdiabetes, and some more unknown conditions like dysautonomia and CRPS. On top of that, I have my own set of medical conditions. That being said, I have been on both sides of the situation: a patient and a provider. I have had some really good providers and I’ve had some that were really awful.

Problems with emergency medical services (EMS)  generally arise due to a lack of understanding on the part of the medical provider, so here are six things that individuals with chronic illnesses can do to prevent such issues from occurring.

1. Be prepared with information about your condition(s). This can actually be written out in the form of pamphlets, wallet cards, and/or articles or you can verbally explain your condition to your providers. Be prepared to do this clearly and concisely. In the heat of the moment, this may be a challenge for some, so having materials prepared in advanced can be very helpful for everyone involved. You are your own best advocate!

2. Have an updated medication list compiled. Many individuals with chronic illness take medications and/or supplements. Be sure to list everything you are taking. EMTs and medics will ask for the names of all your medications. If you have a list, it makes it easier for the provider to compile the information for the trip sheet because they can just copy it off the paper. Consider keeping an electronic copy on your phone for when you are out and about. It is very prudent to put the medication list and the information of your conditions in one place, so you know where it is in the event of an emergency.

3. Consider a wearing Medic Alert bracelet. This is a really good habit to get into especially if you have conditions that could render you unable to communicate for yourself. There are many different styles and colors out there to make it your own. My alert bracelet is a sporty, silicon, blue/lime green band with a QR code that, when scanned, pulls up an electronic medical record that you can customize with as much or as little information as you want.

4. One of the most crucial thing for both patients and providers is patience and encouraging a environment to teamwork. You could be the very first patient they’ve had with your condition and they may need to take some time to work with you and learn. If you score a provider that is willing to learn, take the opportunity to educate them. Other patients with the same conditions that have them as a provider later down the road will thank you. Who knows? You may even have the same provider at a later time.

5. I always try to maintain a good attitude (even though it doesn’t always work out that way) when dealing with a medical provider during a time of crisis. Everyone with chronic illnesses (or everyone who has ever been sick for that matter), knows it is extremely challenging to be pleasant when you aren’t feeling well. EMS know that if you’re in the back of their ambulance, you are probably having an especially rotten day. You don’t have to be all “sunshine and rainbows,” but if you treat them with respect, you deserve the same in return.

6. Lastly, remember EMTs and paramedics are human. They have their bad days. They may have dealt with something unimaginable prior to come to you. We make mistakes and sometimes at the end of 24-hour shift, we’re just plain tired. Many chronically ill individuals deal with at least one provider that hasn’t helped them, accused them of faking, or was just plain nasty. It’s unfortunate, but it happens.

Prepare yourself using some of these tips and hopefully the next time you require the services of EMS, it will be a smoother process!

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7 Ways I Cope With My Loss of Identity After a Chronic Illness Diagnosis

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When I became ill in early 2015, it felt like my world was coming to an end. I had my dream job, I was volunteering and I had just finished my counseling diploma. I was looking forward to spending more time with my family and for life to become a little slower paced. I didn’t expect it to come to a screaming halt. I spent most days on the settee or on in bed — crying.

Within six months I lost my independence, my dignity and my career. I lost my whole identity as another one was forced on me. And I felt sorry for myself. I cried for the person I was and the person I wanted to be. I cried because of the person I had become. I felt sorry for myself and did so for most of 2015.

People who haven’t gone through a life-changing experience like a chronic illness sometimes can’t understand the enormous feeling of loss that you experience.  How many times have you heard phrases like “feeling sorry for yourself,” “pity party” or “pull your socks up and get on with it.”

What they don’t understand is that you’re grieving. In her book “On Death and Dying,” Dr. Elisabeth Kübler-Ross said there are five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. These stages of bereavement aren’t just for those coping with or facing death. They’re also present when coping with a personal loss, divorce, loss of a job, infertilityaddiction and chronic illness.

I’ve pretty much gone through all of these stages in the last 18 months more than once and will probably go through them again (hopefully, not as intensely) because grief and grieving are not a straight line process. You don’t start at “anger” and work through to “acceptance” and then, presto, everything is fine. Life isn’t like that, and chronic illnesses don’t have a neat little timetable you can go by.

How do I cope? In part, my training as a counselor has helped. I have to be self-aware and be able to recognize and own my thoughts and feelings. It doesn’t mean I’m immune to the stages of grief; it just means I’m able to take a step back and identify them.

Here are seven ways I cope with my loss of identity:

1. I allow myself to feel the way I do.  

I have a right to feel my own feelings and express them. This can be pretty scary for yourself and those around you. You might not have realized how powerful these thoughts and emotions were or how deep they go. 

2. I have a choice.  

I bet you’re asking, “How can you have a choice when your whole identity, your ability and independence has been stripped away?” Every day I have to make choices. This morning I had to get up, get showered and get dressed or stay in bed. This might not seem like much, but these little choices have helped me feel I have some control over my life. I can choose to be happy or angry and relaxed or stressed. And I choose how I react to my thoughts, feelings and those around me. Sometimes I chose to be the angry, stressed and irrational because I needed to get it out of my system. 

3. That said, I don’t hold onto them.

I feel them, I express them and I let them go. When I have a good five minutes, I try to enjoy those pain-free, fog-free moments. I don’t want to depress myself by worrying how poorly I could get at any given moment.

4. Expect a bumpy ride.

Be kind to yourself on bad days. Celebrate the good days. Expected the unexpected. They may sound like clichés, but I think they’re right. Life is messy, and life with a chronic illness can feel even more so. We aren’t Scouts — be prepared is a pretty difficult motto to live up to when you don’t even know how you are going to be in the next five minutes let alone the next day, week, month, year. Living with unknown is hard. I found mindfulness helps. No, it doesn’t take away my pain, but it helps me be in the moment, the present and the here and now. It takes practice. It’s not easy, but then living with a chronic illness isn’t either.

5. I find comfort in the experiences of those who are like me and in learning about my condition.  

Facebook groups, bloggers, Pinterest boards and my family. These are places I feel safe enough to express myself and educate myself. Here I find understanding about the day-to-day realities of life with a chronic illness. They help me understand what’s happening to me, so I’m not in a permanent state of confusion and don’t feel alone. 

6. I got a hobby.  

At first I watched a huge amount of Netflix, but the busy person in me found it hard to do nothing all day except rest. I thought about how creative therapies are used to help people. I taught myself to loom knit, weave and crochet. I’m still trying to widen my creative horizons on days where I can’t use my hands. But my brain still works, so I have alternative methods of coping instead of lying in bed feeling useless.

7. I laugh at myself.  

I poke fun at my own condition, especially on the fibromyalgia fog days because you know I’m quite funny when my brain isn’t in gear, and I don’t want to be frustrated and angry all of the time.

All of these help me cope with my loss. They help me realize that having a chronic illness isn’t the end of my world. It’s a chance to think about who I was, who I am and who I want to be. With time I’m sure I will get to “acceptance,” and the grief I feel will fade. But until then, I’m not beating myself up about the times that I’m “feeling sorry for myself.”

Follow this journey on The Dottie Dormouse.

Lead photo source: Thinkstock Images

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When Health Issues Make You Question If You're Living Up to Your Potential

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“You’ve got so much potential.”

I remember people telling me that, and my teachers telling my parents that about me, too, when I was younger. What does that even mean?

“You can do anything you set your mind to.” That’s another one. I’m pretty sure I tried to move objects with my mind after too many episodes of “Sabrina, the Teenage Witch” but that was never successful. I’m pretty sure I’ve tried to get a better paying job and win the lottery too, but those didn’t work out either. My “potential” feels quite limited, given the health issues I’ve had. The last nine years have felt wasted in comparison to how I thought they should have been, to how my 20s should have been lived judging by the media and the lives of those around me, or peers on social media. These two phrases, rather than inspiring confidence in me, make me look back on the years and wonder where it went.

What happened to this “potential?” I feel like I haven’t gotten anywhere, done anything of importance, or become this amazing person I could or should have been. I weigh up where I am now to what society and those around me perhaps have thought I should be at this point, and I feel like I’m never enough. If I was full of “potential,” is it still there? Has it disappeared? Or am I using it and living it without realizing?

I think our choices are part effort, part chance and part circumstance. We have the potential to control our actions, our emotions and our responses to events, but even these things are partly influenced by neurological and biochemical factors. Our circumstances and choices can be restrained by invisible illness, be that mental or physical. It may have a small effect. Or it could have a huge impact, limiting your “potential” and the things you could do or would like to do.

What we do have is boundless potential when it comes to our thoughts. To define the meanings we associate with things, the value we put on our life and the things in it. We have the potential to change how we see the world and our role in it. Who we are and where our lives are at is something we need to take responsibility for and be active participants in this process. But this is our journey, influenced by our situation, our body, and our thoughts. It is no one else’s.

Rather than define this “potential” so unrealistically and having goals set for us as a result of society’s idealistic standards, why don’t we redefine it in line with our own situation, health, abilities and desires?

All of this pressure, measuring ourselves up and feeling inadequate only serves to make ourselves feel like crap. No one else, just ourselves, if we let it make us feel like this. If we value our lives more, if we become more aware of our freedom of thought and choice, we would be able to realize that we are enough. You can’t measure the length of a cucumber by shoving it on the kitchen scale. Neither can you measure or define your worth, value and success against your peers and prescribed social paradigms.

Follow this journey on Invisibly Me

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No, I Can't Just Cancel or Reschedule This Doctor Appointment

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Because of my complex medical issues, I need care beyond that of your Average Daisy or Joe. I go to my local university-affiliated center, which thankfully has offices in my city.

But sometimes, I’m too much for them. So they send me to HQ (headquarters).

And getting into HQ is quite a mission. It’s at least a 3- to 4-month wait, plus you are at the whim of those big fancy doctors at HQ and how they feel that week or if they have a class to teach or an important meeting to attend.  Of course, it’s deep in the heart of Los Angeles traffic. And they always want to offer you 8 a.m. or 3:30 p.m. appointments, which will inevitably turn into six-hour excursions depending on traffic, like any true Angelino knows.

Many think people on disability have all the free time in the world. Free time for all sorts of fun stuff. I, in fact, with all of that time, have four standing appointments every week plus whatever follow-ups and tests I have. Being on disability isn’t this glamorous life, laying on the couch with your make up done and a bag of Hot Cheetos and Netflix, waiting to go out for Happy Hour. It’s actually being at home, being sick and unable to do anything else.

We don’t choose to sit at home, waiting for those six months to pass before we see the specialist who may or may not give us an answer. A specialist who may or may not make us feel inadequate and “crazy,” like so many specialists have before. A specialist who might say, “I have no idea” and send us onto the next wait list for the next specialist.

Imagine going to work on Monday morning and telling your boss, “Hey I just don’t feel like doing the training today. I know we’ve had it planned for six months and I’m supposed to conduct the training, but I’m just not feeling it, and I got a better offer. Sound good?”

That is the equivalent of canceling an appointment at HQ.

My appointments to me are what your job is to you. My appointments are my job. I literally have no other job than going to my appointments and taking care of myself.

When you decide you want to get coffee on Thursday and that is quite possibly the only day that works for you for the next six months, I’m sorry, but HQ is calling. You can’t just willy-nilly with HQ. HQ doesn’t work like that. HQ sets the rules; we are but mere ants who follow them.

If it is an appointment I am able to reschedule and there truly is a conflict, I will. But some appointments (those pesky HQ ones) are not reschedulable. No matter how bad I’m feeling, no matter what is going on. I will move mountains to get to those appointments.

And I’m sorry, but at the same time not sorry, about coffee.

By saying I should be able to reschedule my appointment to spend time with you, you are invalidating my very real and very serious medical condition. You might have a few hours off from your kids or be between classes, but this is my illness. My very real illness that doesn’t take a break, doesn’t relent. An illness I’ve been fighting for years.

So no, I can’t reschedule.

I’ve probably been waiting for this appointment for four to six months, and then if I reschedule who knows when the next opening is. Sometimes I can, and I will. Sometimes I have to. Sometimes I physically can’t drive to my appointments, which is why I’ve developed an extensive network of “drivers” (see: family and friends).

I know when I reschedule an appointment I shouldn’t have because the person inside the person with chronic illness wanted to have some fun that day. I get the same nagging feeling I got when I ditched class as a student. It’s not a good feeling to have.

So I stopped. I stopped missing appointments because I wanted to hang out with my friends or see my partner or go get coffee. I stick to my schedule because I learned, like I said before, my appointments are like my job.

I may not be able to do a 9 to 6 Monday through Friday for 50 weeks a year like most people, but I can do an 8 a.m. on Monday in six months at HQ.

Follow this journey on Living Without Limits.

Image via Thinkstock.

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To Those Wondering Why They Should Bother Inviting Their Chronically Ill Friend Out

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Question: Do you have a friend/relative who has a medical condition and you are sick to death of inviting them out, because they never go?

Do you often call them and get the answering machine?

Do you often become frustrated and wonder why you still bother?

Here is some food for thought…

Whenever I do anything now, I have to consider the consequences:

Do I have the energy?
Can I agree to something so far in advance?

These are the questions we have to ask ourselves every day, with virtually every activity even conversations!

The duration and severity of symptoms associated with symptoms differ with each individual, so it is often difficult to know what someone needs every day, so no one can write us a how-to book. Some days we can even wake up and simply by getting dressed there is nothing left for the rest of the day, so we have to rest to gain energy regardless of if we just woke up. Whatever we have planned is then cancelled. Many agree that we can battle through pain thresholds, but cannot battle through exhaustion. It is a wall you cannot pass until you rest. For many, simply the anxiety of panic can come over them like a wave and crush any enjoyment associated with even the simplest of plans.

Having a debilitating illness affects you physically (obviously), but that’s not all. It impacts emotional well-being, too. People often find that they lose their friends and social life simply because they’re alienated all the time. Friends no longer invite them places since they always cancel, they lose contact with the colleagues they once had through work and no longer participate in activities they enjoy. They often have feelings of guilt and isolation. Not only are they faced with a debilitating illness they never asked for, they now also lose contact with the outside world as a result. The emotional frustration and pain can lead to depression or exacerbate the already existing depression.

Most of the time, due to mental overload and the cognitive difficulties, conversations are such hard work. The simple act of chatting can use up so much energy trying to work out words in a sequence, I now avoid them with certain people. People who are around me all the time understand me and the conversations can flow, but even then I often get lost mid-sentence and forget what we are talking about. With my gang (sons, parents, sister and her gang), I am not embarrassed or self-conscious.

I cannot do conversation when I am tired. I cannot do people who seem to have an agenda of “pull yourself together.” They physically drain me and turn my head into a marshmallow.

This is not limited to physical tasks — mental tasks drain the life out of you sometimes.

The cognitive symptoms can be more troubling to the patient than other symptoms.

The hardest part is you ache to be the old you and chat for hours, but you can no longer tolerate it so you crave it even more. Like when I have a run of migraines I cannot drink coffee, yet coffee is all I crave!

When the exterior looks healthy yet within it there is turmoil, it can have a profound toll on our daily life and likely impact our emotional health. Rather than simply dismissing us as a waste of time, just be patient and try and understand.

Many people hide the way they feel and can seem nonchalant to the needs of others. It is not that they mean to let other people down continuously; they simply cannot help the way they are. Often when they try and explain, they are silenced or not believed as many people do not conform to the stereotypical version of what a person with an illness or social anxieties “should” look like or act like.

Maturity and mental clarity now allows me the freedom to out myself and tell people I have certain medical conditions. As soon as I mention I have panic attacks, the usual response is to be told I don’t! I am apparently too outgoing, too bubbly, too confident. People are experts at my mind.

Why not ask your loved one what is the best way to communicate now?

They may prefer a simple text: “How are you today?”

I used to chat on the phone for hours to my mom. Now I text her more. It is easier for me. We still talk on the phone daily and she knows I still love her, but we don’t talk for long as I get lost in the conversation. She spends a full day with me on Mondays, when we have dinner together, collect the boys from school and have tea.

Please don’t stop inviting.

Even if you know your friend always cancels party invites, never remove them from the list. It is so cruel to stop asking people simply because an illness they have makes them too weak or afraid to join in. By inviting them, you have made them smile. Write a little note inside saying you understand they are unwell and often too ill to attend, but keep hold of the invite as it may be a good day and even just come for an hour because it would be great to see them.

Friendships often change over the years. Some of my closest friends are people I met at school. If our communication levels remained the same I would still be passing notes to each other, meeting in the canteen to eat my dinner every dinnertime, the bike sheds every break and waiting until my Nan was out to use the phone or being allowed one minute to talk.

Friendships with an illness have to change super fast, so hang in there and embrace the change.

I hope if you have a friend or relative like me, and you often become frustrated and wonder why you still bother, you now think a little differently.

Love and gentle hugs.

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When I Finally Learned to Give My Body the Rest It Needs

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Some days I feel like I can conquer anything — I set a new squat record, have an awesome session with a PT client, cook a dinner that impresses my very kitchen-savvy fiancé. Little things that mean big wins for someone with chronic pain. But on other days, it takes everything in me just to get out of bed and make my morning pour-over.

Most who are remotely familiar with chronic pain have heard of the spoon theory — it’s a metaphor that describes daily life with chronic illness. Spoons represent the amount of energy one has to get through the day, and these “spoons” can only be replenished with rest. Someone with chronic pain may have far fewer spoons than the average person, or it might require a greater number to complete a basic daily activity.

I often pretend not to identify with this metaphor, mainly because of my stubborn, try and stop me mentality. I try to be careful not to overdo things, especially when I’m not feeling well, but I usually fight to will myself into having the energy to get things done, no matter the consequence. Deep down, I dislike being labeled as chronically ill, and it lights a fire within me to accomplish everything I have to get done, even if it takes everything out of me.

This whole theory plays an enormous role when it comes to fitness, and I think this is where I finally learned to give my body the rest it so desperately needs. As I write this, I know I’m supposed to be at the gym for the dynamic upper-body workout I had planned, but I’ve been glued to my couch since 8 o’clock this morning thanks to being at a wedding 15 hours yesterday. I could will myself, as I so often do, into changing into gym clothes and driving the three miles to my gym, but even so, I know how poorly today’s lift will go and how dejected I will feel afterward when I haven’t accomplished all I set out to do.

I always tell my personal training clients that no matter how much you don’t want to come to the gym, you’ll never regret it once you’re moving weight and getting those endorphins flowing. And I truly believe that. But I also know that when given the options of training with blinding pain and balance impairment or taking medication that will tame my breakthrough pain but force me to stay home much of the day, I’m going to take an elective rest day and get myself better. 

I guess my whole point here is that we have to give ourselves permission to rest. I know I’m not the only “spoonie” out there who feels immense guilt when s/he can’t muster the strength to do something they want to or should be doing. But it’s so very important to acknowledge our pain and allow our bodies to take a break from climbing the mountain that is everyday life.

And I suppose that’s why I’m writing a blog post for the first time in three years. Here is my official recognition that today I am too tired to go to the gym, and that’s OK. I know that by taking a lazy Sunday to recover, I’ll be able to go in after work tomorrow and have a far more productive lift.

So to all you spoonies out there trying to convince yourselves to push through exhaustion, pain, depression or whatever you’re battling, know that, just for today, it’s OK if you yield, just enough to lie on the couch with some dark chocolate, coffee and Netflix. Take care of yourselves and save that can-do attitude for the week ahead!

Follow this journey on Living Because of EDS.

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