World Mental Health Day: From backflips to bedpans

Today is World Mental Health Day, so I thought I would honour it with a different kind of blog post:

Sometimes I wonder how I got here.
Especially so fast.

How did I go from hours in the gym, training, running, flipping, to this.
Things changed really fast for me.

British Championships was an amazing experience, I was so happy to hit all my routines and claim 6 British titles. Then 8 day's later my world was turned upside down.

I found myself back in hospital, reacting over and over again.
Then I was back in Intensive Care, still reacting.
Even when I got home, reacting.
Back in hospital, reacting.
Home, reacting.
Resuscitation, reacting.
High dependency unit, reacting.

Wires, tubes, drips, pads, needles. A whole world away from gymnastics.

Then I lost my hair. I tried to make it the most positive I could, armed with cosy hat's and funky head accessories I was ready. Yet I still look in the mirror and I'm met with the reflection of a young woman I don't even recognise. Where has the athlete gone? Who is this pale, bald and timid person.

I had accepted that I would look different after everything by body has been though. I lost a lot of weight at first and my bones dug in when I lay down, however now there is lot's of fluid that is being retained. I have days where my stomach is so swollen I look 7 months pregnant and it's difficult to move my body around without causing too much pain or fainting. My lips swell up and down so frequently they have left jagged cracks all across my mouth, scarred.. My arms bruised from all the needles, my eyebrows thinning and my eyes grey from the constant battle, but I am still me.

This condition make take my hair, my independence and even my ability to breathe sometimes, but I am still me.

I have no ability to control this condition, and I can not predict the outcome, but what I can do is appreciate the mind-set I have developed from having a life-threatening condition. Sure it isn't easy having your mortality rubbed in your face every minute of everyday but I take advantage of the ability to see things that healthy people don't. I can see the good in rainy days.

I have learned to love the lumps and bumps, the bruises and the baldness because it's still me. No amount of self-doubt or hatred will change that so you have to accept yourself and feel beautiful, because no-one else can do that for you.

I don't see this condition as a death sentence, but more as a life sentence. It pushes me to live!

Please remember that if you are ever struggling- talk to someone. Do not suffer in silence. You are beautiful and you deserve to be happy, don't let anything or anyone make you think otherwise.

Part time athlete, full time sick person.

'What's your occupation?'

'Oh, I'm an athlete' she says from the hospital bed. 

Bald, various wires and tubes attached to my skin and running into my veins, relying on injections to maintain a patent airway. I can see why you might question my answer. 

See I would currently describe myself as part time athlete, full time sick person. Not exactly a job you see at a careers fair is it? Full time sick person, but it's my current job. I like to think that I'm doing pretty well considering what I have been through the past few months, I am entirely self funded as a sick person, and I still do little bits here and there. Granted it's not as much as I want to do but I'm grateful that I can still do a bit. 

The past year or so I'v had a lot of friend request and followings off people I went to school with. Most of these people I hardly knew in school, I wasn't in any of their classes and to be fair I don't think many of them even knew my last name as I always did my own thing. However since hitting news headlines, whether it be for awards or for being unwell these people have suddenly re-appeared in my life. Messages like 'remember me' and a circled image of themselves in our schools year photo. I realised that these people now know only my 'before' and 'after'. Before; when I was a normal teenager and now, a full time sick person. Which is hard because I look at them and they are at university, have a full time job or and traveling the world and here's me, university of life, full time sick person traveling the world in an ambulance.

The job of a full time sick person is very complex but the ultimate goal is this; stay alive. 

Everyday things needs to be organised. Updating and arranging my care plan, preparing crisis drugs, doing treatment, attending appointments, chasing up results, sterilising things, monitoring everything- lung function, blood pressure, oxygen levels, heart rate etc and adjusting my treatments to suit.

I might plan to do things, but sometimes my job interferes with my personal life too. Maybe I need to spend longer doing treatments one day and so I miss out on something, or I'm not getting enough relief from treatments do allow me to do what I wanted. Perhaps my body goes into crisis and I find myself back in a hospital bed fighting for my life.

Not your average 9-5 job, I work night shifts, day shifts, early mornings, late nights and in the past I have had to work for 6 days on a total of 8 hours sleep.

So that's me, part time athlete, full time sick person.