I’ll get the serious stuff out of the way first.
- I don’t know whether to be pleased or irritated with an article that I came across: a doctor who writes for the Daily Mail magnanimously concedes -below an article on haemorrhoids – that CFS/ME is ‘real’ because he attended a conference that said so. Thanks, Doc; I’m sure the estimated 250,000 sufferers in this country, many of whom have doctors as uninterested and unsympathetic as you have been, are grateful to be taken out of the category Lying, Time-Wasting Toe-Rag. I’m ambivalent because yes, it makes me angry that anyone would think my hard-working, hard-playing husband would prefer to lie around the house faking pain and fatigue than provide for his family and enjoy a rich life, maybe playing football with his sons or taking his wife out to dinner; but our ME community is so reviled amongst so many in the medical profession that any acknowledgment that this is a real and debilitating condition is welcome, no matter how patronising the delivery.
- The Hub took part in a study of CFS/ME patients a few years ago, called the FINE Trial (Fatigue Intervention by Nurses Evaluation). A nurse came to the house once a month for about six months and talked with him. The idea was to see if a talking cure worked – presumably to test the theory that it was all in his head. It didn’t help much – presumably because it’s not all in his head. What did help the Hub was having a sympathetic ear from a stranger; I don’t think people realise the deleterious effect on the psyche when even family and friends – those alleged to know your character – think you’re idle and/or faking it. There was one person who told the Hub ‘I wish I could get it; I could do with six months off work.’ Try fourteen years and see if you still feel the same.
- You can read a simple summary of the report here. The conclusion I found interesting was: supportive listening is not an effective treatment for CFS/M.E. No kidding. Supportive listening won’t fix a broken leg either; I wonder why that is?
- Here’s a cartoon that pretty much sums up the medical position on CFS/ME:
That’s enough bitterness for one day; this is supposed to be a funny blog.
- I heard a quote yesterday, attributed to the writer Kate Fox: Why do Geordies have an existential problem? Because they’re always saying, ‘Why I?’
- It’s not the exact quote; I Googled it and couldn’t find it, but I did come across a poem of hers that tickled me, especially this line: Glad never to leave one particular Lancashire town?/That’s Stockport syndrome.
- A sad exemplar of our times over at Parentdish: a reality tv show in the States about a modern Partridge Family has not been aired for over two years because the family is – wait for it – too happy: Despite two years of effort by a television crew to show the seamy underbelly of the family Witchger, CNN reports too many family confessionals ended with smiling kids and parents saying, “It was really fun.”
- I had a giggle at a friend’s recent Facebook status; she has a husband named Brian; I’m pretty sure she meant to type ‘brain’: Going to sleep now; worn out from brian’s overactivity.
Finally, we haven’t had a poem for at least two days, so here’s a bit of fluff for Carry on Tuesday. The prompt was to use the line One misty moisty morning from the 1973 Steeleye Span song. Don’t ask me how I ended up with this, because I have no idea:
Boat Race
One misty, moisty morning
a hoity-toity Cambridge few
goaded the gangly, spangley crew
who wore the Oxford Blue:
You shall not prevail, they cried;
when the Thames has reached high tide
we’ll kick your Cox over the side
and then the rest of you.
I don’t even watch the boat race, though I still sigh over the memory of Rob Lowe in Oxford Blues – and any other film/tv/photograph in which he appears.
Sorry, I have to stop typing now; I appear to be drooling.
The poem is fun – who wouldn’t laugh at a load of he-men in shorts and singlets heaving themselves backwards up the river facing a skinny female cox who’s giving them orders.
On a more serious note, we have a mutual friend with this maligned condition – would you mind if I pointed her in the direction of this affecting post?
V
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I am more than happy to spread the word!
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The poem, and the illustration that goes with it, has me grinning from ear to ear! Thanks.
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🙂
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Love the rollicking fun of your poem! Good one!
CFS is certainly a serious, barely understood matter! A student of mine suffered from this some years ago! (And also suffered accompanying depression!) If only I had some magic answer! But those who knew the student just continued to support and encourage. Finally something worked! We still don’t really know how or what! Perhaps it was merely our persistence!
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Sadly, not much is known about the condition. My husband has never suffered depression (another much-misubderstood illness), thankfully; but I’m amazed that he hasn’t because ME sufferers are badly neglected by the medical profession.
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I liked the seriousness behind the lightness..
nowhere island
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Thank you. 🙂
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I have a back condition that makes morning extremely slow and painful. The pain always recedes to a tolerable level, eventually. But, because no one sees those excruciating morning moments, I have been teased and had to live with defintions of laziness and even stupidity, for my slowness to respond at times. I so know where you are coming from. And am amazed that your hubby doesn’t suffer the depression aspect of simply not being understood.
The poem was an absolute need to balance that and worked very well to do it. Thanks for this one,
Elizabeth
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I’m sorry to hear of your sufferings, Elizabeth. All too often people are misjudged because their problems are not visible.
The Hub is a positive man, determined to get the most from life – which is how he ended up like this; ME being a condition of the personality as much as anything. Mind you, he’s angry a lot, and they say that’s a form of depression.
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I almost forgot about the yummy hotness of Rob Lowe and I love, love, love the fun moisty morning poem. Mine came out so sinister-like! (and thanks for commenting!)
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It’s interesting how the poems go off in so many directions, isn’t it?
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What a humorous poem…certainly was the bright spot of what I’ve read this morning…..of course your initial comments are perhaps most important…I always feel that the medical profession has lost a bit of its glitter due to its failure to explore the possiblity that they done’t have all the anwers. Cheers!
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I don’t mind that they don’t have all the answers – how could they, after all? I mind how they treat those they don’t understand.
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I don’t understand. How can anyone think hemmorhoids can be cured by talking? It’s a physical condition, for goodness sake. I’ve had it and it can be really uncomfortable and depressing if it doesn’t go away quickly.
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Kay, you gave me a huge laugh with this. What I said was that the doc’s decision on ME came under the article on haems. i.e. a debilitating, life-changing illness counts for less than things that grow on your bottom that can be fixed.
I haven’t had it but I know how awful it is and you have all my sympathy. And thanks for the laugh-out-loud moment in my day 🙂
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Erm: haem (sp?) piles probably could be cured by talking: some expert advice on diet, regime etc from a patient doctor would probably work wonders for the patient patient.
That is not at all the same scenario as ME. Is there a society researching this issue, Tilly? If not, there ought to be.
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sp? is correct; I checked. It can be spelt more than one way; just like spelled. 🙂
There are some links to ME societies to the right of my posts. I’m not sure how much research is being done but some is – the recent news about it possibly being linked to a virus came from research.
Thanks for the moral support; it’s just as important.
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