HEALTH UPDATE 2017

Life Updates

4 years later and I finally have the answers I’ve been waiting for.

After seeing a pain consultant at UCLH, I was told I had damage to my abdominal wall, most probably as a result of my operation in 2013. This would explain the consistency in daily pain and the multiple admissions to hospital. The methods of dealing with this are somewhat complicated – there is no “cure” as such, as surgery runs far too many fatal risks, not to mention the risk of furthermore pain. I’m on medication for chronic pain, and hopefully by steadily increasing the dose if I experience severe pain again, it should make a considerable difference to my quality of life. The only downside to the medication is their sedative effect, so I spent 90% of my day resembling that of a zombie. I’ve now been referred to the complex pain team at UCLH, where I’ll undergo physiotherapy to help live with the pain, potential local anaesthetic shots to numb the pain of my damaged abdominal wall and ultimately methods which will ensure I don’t have to visit the a&e department as frequently, and hopefully in time, at all.

Over the past 4 years, I’ve gone through just about every single test possible for abdominal pain and the lack of answers completely destroyed me. I was living in a constant state of not knowing what I was suffering from, with doctors, or “specialists” in the private healthcare field not willing to act on anything. 2015 was by far the worst year of my life – 11 admissions to a&e over 12 months, where they could only manage the pain with opiates left me feeling at my lowest. Many people, healthcare professionals included, underestimate the debilitating impact of chronic pain. I’m always asked to rate my pain – how do I measure it, when I’ve experienced the worst kind this world has to offer? To this day, I’ve never measured my pain at a 10/10 because I’ve become so desensitised to the excruciating nature of a relapse.

I’ve always had people commending me for my bravery and strength, but ultimately this is 90% of the time a facade to help me survive. I’m so far from brave, compared to those who suffer from terminal illnesses and what not. There are days where I’m overcome with anxiety over how I’ll live with the pain when it gets bad, and how isolating the pain can be. There are days when I criticise myself for pitying myself when I’m so lucky compared to the plight of others. I’m filled with guilt at the sacrifices my family have made for me, and the pain they’ve had to helplessly witness, all the while encouraging me and supporting me. But I’ve slowly come to realise that it’s perfectly okay to feel sorry for myself here and there. It’s okay to feel like absolute shit. It’s okay to cry my heart out. Because pain is soul-destroying.

Ultimately, I survived these 4 years solely because I have an incredible support system. My immediate family and close friends have saved my life.

So, thank you. Thank you to the specialists at UCLH for giving me the answers I’ve waited so long for. Thank you to my close friends who’ve shown me so much support recently. Thank you to the friends who’ve become family. Thank you to each and every one of you who have contacted me on here and offered advice, encouragement and so much more. And thank you, a thousand times over, to my family.  God bless you all.

It gets worse before it gets better, but it does get better.

A x

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HEALTH UPDATE: MAY 2016

Life Updates

The waiting game.

It appears I spend most of my time waiting for things to happen; currently, I’m waiting to be seen by a specialist in the field of Sphincter of Oddi Dysfunction at Harley Street. Sadly, the NHS route proved to be an absolute disaster; I spent two months waiting for the appointment to come through to see a consultant who had an “interest” in the field of SOD at a tertiary centre hospital, only for him to tell me there was nothing he could do about my condition due to a substantial “lack of evidence” excluding my pain. It’s safe to say that I was livid after that appointment. His reluctance to do anything about my condition pretty much summed up why I have no faith in doctors – for over a year and a half, my condition has worsened yet they seem to intentionally brush over my three year-long suffering.

Sphincter of Oddi Dysfunction is a tricky little condition; for one, the Sphincter muscle in my bile duct is so tiny that the best way to assess whether it’s working properly (or not, in my case) is to go inside and undergo a procedure. The problem is this procedure carries the risk of inducing pancreatitis; having already suffered a bout of it two years ago, I’m not too keen to risk any chances of having it again because the pain is horrendous. Pancreatitis also runs the risk of inflicting life-long damage onto the pancreas, creating furthermore health problems. However, having exhausted many medicinal routes to tackle to pain I’m in daily with SOD, I’m running out of patience and options. Being bombarded with pain relief doesn’t solve the issue and it appears the doctors I’ve seen are almost reluctant to cure it, opting for a safer, non-invasive method of treating the symptoms.

Another problem is the relapses. Whilst I was away, I suffered from an episode of severe pain which landed me in hospital – not ideal when you’re in another country. The relapses occur almost every other month, drastically impacting my life with its unpredictability. Doctors perhaps perceive my desperation for medical intervention as just another kid who comes in with pain in their stomach. They don’t realise how badly this condition has ruined my life for the past three years. They can’t imagine being in pain for a solid 18 months because they’ve never been there.

I know it’s wrong to desperately hope for something when I’ve already been disappointed so many times before, but I sincerely hope this consultant will give me some answers this time. If not surgical intervention then at least another option to consider would be preferable. Being written off has destroyed me, physically and emotionally.

So, hopefully, in ten days I may just get some answers!

A x

 

Eating Disorder Awareness Week 2016

Current Affairs, Life Updates

This week marks Eating Disorder Awareness Week. This month marks 10 months since I beat my eating disorder.

I guess the first stage of overcoming it was actually coming to terms with having an eating disorder; admitting to myself that I was struggling to cope with the operations I’d had the year before and just missing out on my grades to get into uni. In many ways, starving myself was a coping mechanism as well as a method of maintaining control over my life through my body weight. So admitting to my parents and my psychotherapist that I had a problem was the first step on the road to recovery.

The second step was finding the courage to seek professional help; that in itself took the longest. My mum’s friend is a therapist and recommended a few private professionals as the prospect of being put on a waiting list when my condition was getting so serious was impossible to accept. After flat out refusing to see/talk to anyone about my problems for well over a month, I realised I’d either have to pluck up the courage to talk through my anxiety and pain or spend the rest of my life miserable, isolated and starving myself until I was close to death/actually died.

My first session with the psychotherapist was incredibly daunting; naturally, every instinct in my body was telling me not to trust her because she was an outsider. My brain was screaming she won’t understand. I think she, too, saw my apprehension and helped me work through it by sorting through my personal life piece by piece. She began compiling a timeline of every significant event in my life, from starting high school up until present day. Of all things, I didn’t expect a chronology to be as helpful as it eventually proved to be, because once she’d organised key moments of my childhood and adolescence into categories on her timeline, it eventually unravelled what the cause of my anxiety was.

My anxiety had physically manifested itself into an eating disorder and the only way I could tackle the eating problems was to tackle the anxiety first. This was, and to some extent still is, incredibly difficult. Seeing a therapist every week was incomprehensibly effective as she helped me trawl through the trauma I’d experienced essentially since high school, and soon this slow but steady psychological improvement was reflected in my eating habits. The root of my eating problems was ultimately a lack of self esteem, originating from mistreatment and psychological trauma at my high school. Teachers and a few students made me feel worthless and I guess I spent 6 odd years growing up with the belief that I was nothing but a failure. Once my therapist helped me through this harrowing acceptance of my high school experience, I began to accept other aspects of my life, too. For example, my physical health deteriorated rapidly in 2013 and the trauma of relentless, disabling pain also took its toll. Over the course of a year, I managed to work through the psychological aspects of my life which were contributing to a lack of self esteem and my anxiety attacks. 

The other fundamental factor of overcoming my eating disorder was accepting that my body was a thing to be loved, not loathed. I was so desperately trying to achieve an ideal body weight that I lost all sense of rationale. This ideal body weight soon became dangerously life-threatening which is when my parents confronted me about why I was so thin, and why my hipbones were sticking out through my jeans. I was incredibly careful to hide everything from them; from putting food wrappers in the bin despite eating none of the contents, to wearing baggy clothes. (thereby hiding my weight loss) I used to starve myself from morning until 5pm, binge on whatever junk food I could find, only for it all to come back up because my stomach was shrinking and couldn’t tolerate a massive influx of food in one go. Due to my inability to keep food contents inside my body, I was rapidly losing weight but no one really noticed, so I kept pushing to lose more. Over the course of the year that I received help for the eating disorder, I learnt to love myself a lot more. Surrounding myself with good, positive influences and detaching myself from toxic, negative people is ultimately what saved me. 

It’s incredible how many people compliment me on my body now, three sizes up from what I was two years ago. It’s also incredible how far I’ve come, emotionally and physically, since high school. Beating the eating disorder not only saved my life but it also helped me get over the trauma of my high school experience. It made me realise that I’m a survivor.

I cannot emphasise how important it is for people to show solidarity amongst understanding and compassion for those suffering from eating disorders. Sticking around for someone can make a world of difference. Whether it’s a shoulder to cry on or a hand to hold when times get tough, just being there is what helped me through my darkest hours. Cowards walk away from people in desperate times of need. Don’t be that person.

Here’s a list two websites which helped me in times of need, too:

https://www.b-eat.co.uk 

http://nedawareness.org

A x

My Battle With Anxiety: 2 Years On

Current Affairs, Original Writing

Anxiety is a general term for several disorders that cause nervousness, fear, apprehension, and worrying… These disorders affect how we feel and behave, and they can manifest real physical symptoms. Mild anxiety is vague and unsettling, while severe anxiety can be extremely debilitating, having a serious impact on daily life.¹

Sounds about right. I still remember the first time I heard the word, instantly associating it with weakness and fragility. A flaw. There are many misconceptions associated with the term ‘anxiety’ and understandably so, considering the word is so broad and broadly used in society. I also believe it’s used too loosely in day to day life, thereby contributing to a lack of understanding. Despite coming so far as a race, we’ve become stuck in a place where we cannot manifest the ability to treat people equally based on their mental state, which is undeniably a shocking position for us, as humans.

The first time I told someone outside of my family about suffering from anxiety, I was terrified and lost in a world where toxic thoughts were swimming around in my head and I genuinely believed they would save me from drowning. Initially, telling someone else about this was an instant relief. I felt a little lighter knowing I’d shared something so destructive in my life with someone else who’d perhaps be able to help me through it, providing support where possible. Sadly, I was wrong. I’ve since learnt that people will certainly provide a supportive front but that’s all it is – a facade. Some of us are designed to deal with heavy emotional distress and some of us simply are not: and that’s okay.

Coming to terms with anxiety meant having to re-evaluate my relationships and friendships; it meant taking a step back and assessing what/where the foundation of my anxiety attacks were. I soon came to realise that a significant amount of stress I put myself under was based on being treated a certain way by people I believed I was close to. Without going into too much detail, I wasn’t treated very well by the people I held dearest to me, and I deserved much better. Unfortunately, I just couldn’t see it at the time, so it was a vicious cycle of feeling second best, then apologising for feeling this way only to be treated poorly a few weeks later. I believed that was okay, too, which is the saddest thing. My anxiety attacks were set off by feeling like I wasn’t good enough, which escalated until I reached breaking point. This was a continuous pattern throughout most of 2014 and early 2015.

I only really noticed an improvement in my mental health when I surrounded myself with positive influences and strong, healthy friendships. People who loved me unconditionally, who picked me up when I was down and never treated me differently based on my anxiety disorder. Cutting toxic relationships out of my life has massively transformed it. I’ve also found that keeping myself busy has helped massively; the panic attacks come less often now, and I have less time to overanalyse every aspect of my life. It could be inferred that overanalysing has its perks (kind of) – I am an perfectionist and if something isn’t done to my standards, I’ll continue to work at it until I’m happy. As long as my mind is preoccupied, my anxiety levels remain steady.

Naturally, there are those days where I feel incredibly low and for no apparent reason. This is what I feel is imperative to underline and draw attention to; we have anxiety attacks, panic attacks and feel low for sometimes no reason at all. It just happens and there’s nothing we can do about it; no matter how much someone offers to comfort me, I cannot escape the prison walls of my brain, with voices telling me a thousand negative things all at once. And occasionally, the only thing I can do is cry about it and move on from there. Everyone reacts differently to anxiety and it’s formidable attacks: from crying to remaining silent for long periods of time, sometimes it’s best to leave someone be if they cannot comprehend what’s going on in their head. The same applies to social anxiety – I can’t control the panic attacks every time I enter a room or a bus full of people. Regardless of whether you’re my friend, relative or a stranger, I will panic when entering a confined space containing a number of people. That’s just the way it is for me, and no amount of therapy has managed to change that. (yet)

But if I’ve learnt anything over these two years, it’s to embrace life and all it’s got to offer us. I spent disgustingly too long distressing myself over whether or not I was a good person, if I was good enough. Surrounding myself with good people was what helped me through my darkest hours. People who inspired me, motivated me. Finally, writing has been the most effective form of therapy for me. It’s not even the factor of others going through similar experiences, it’s just ten times easier to deal with when I’m not holding it inside, when it’s on paper. Getting over the physical health stuff was tough enough, but coping with the trauma of a mental health disorder is something else entirely.

My anxiety hasn’t gone away but it’s most definitely become easier to live with. The good days almost always counterbalance the bad, and that’s what I’m focussing on.

A x

¹http://www.medicalnewstoday.com/info/anxiety/ 

 

HEALTH UPDATE: JAN 2016

Original Writing

I’m so excited to start this post off with a positive! I’m 19 days into January and PAIN FREE! This is such a huge deal for me, I can’t even process it.

Okay, so I’m not 100% pain free; more along the lines of 70% but it’s still a dramatic improvement from 2015. Thankfully, it’s less frequent and doesn’t last very long either, meaning I’m not exactly disabled by the pain as I was last year. I’m still getting my head around saying last year. I actually survived 2015.

After well over a year of being seen by multiple private specialists in and around London, my parents and I lost hope in the private medical care system simply because nothing was being done. I’d had countless tests done, all coming back negative meaning the doctors had literally nothing to go on in order to make a concrete diagnosis other than my pain. Considering there was no visual evidence to support the pain, it was hard for them to figure out what was going on inside me and I think they pretty much gave up after increasing my daily pain relief and putting me on 3000 units of Creon a day.

During my hospitalisation in November last year, I was referred to a hepatologist at Royal Surrey County Hospital – a tertiary care centre. Because I wasn’t getting anywhere privately, we agreed it was best to get another specialist opinion and I had the consultation last week. (Downside to the NHS: everything takes at least a month or two to happen!) I was seen by and am currently under the care of the hepatology surgical team who informed me that the Sphincter of Oddi Dysfunction (SOD) diagnosis has been confirmed. WAHEY.

After having a procedure in December, they discovered slight inflammation in the bile duct which suggests a possible latent gallstone (from my laparoscopic cholysysectomy) had recently passed through. This would explain the recurrent attacks of excruciating pain which landed me in a&e so many times last year as well as my intolerance to codeine and morphine. The slight issue with SOD is it’s unpredictability; I have no way of knowing when another attack will take place or how destructive it will be. The surgeons have come up with a potential solution, one which has been brought up by a number of my surgeons and consultants: surgery. A cutting of the sphincter muscle will reduce it’s overactivity which is the fundamental cause of pain everyday, however there are many risks associated with such a rare and risky operation. Most importantly, it carries the risk of internal bleeding and pancreatitis. Having had one attack of acute pancreatitis already, I’m not too keen to have another one as it left me in hospital for a week, attached to a IV opiate drip. It also carries the risk of severely damaging your pancreas, another obstacle I’d rather avoid.

The next step is to be seen by a hepatologist consultant who will discuss his opinion on the surgery and whether the pros outweigh the cons. He’ll then liaise with the surgical team and they’ll come to their professional conclusion before consulting with me. It sounds awfully similar to my last consultation with my private specialists, but this time round I’m definitely more positive as they’re going to get to the root of the problem regardless of the methods they choose. Knowing what health condition I have and that something is going to be done about it has put my mind at ease already!

Clarity. That’s all I needed. And now I’m much happier and more optimistic, too. The possibility of a pain free future is looking increasingly likely!

A x

Save Our NHS: Fight the Junior Contract

Current Affairs

I’m both saddened and appalled at the strikes going ahead over the next few weeks, but I support the junior doctors in their decision because I hope it serves as a wake up call to this blindly ignorant government.

Although this isn’t the first strike to take place over working hours, it’s shocking to see the government’s utter nonchalance at this whole situation, with Hunt instead referring to those striking as “trade union militants.” Junior doctors are striking against unjustifiable hours, and rightly so.

Three years ago, I held most junior doctors in utter contempt simply because of my experience in an NHS hospital which left me in an increasingly worrying state of health, both physically and mentally. The doctors I came across were completely unexperienced and out of their depth when they came to me, primarily because my body was rejecting all medication and they were at a loss as how to treat me. However, with 2015 being the year which saw my accident and emergency admissions at an all time high, I’ve come to realise that my experience three years ago was fundamentally due to the hospital and certainly isn’t an accurate representation of junior doctors over the country. They sacrifice everything for us and we tend to forget that a free health service is a luxury in many senses; free services, 24 hour emergency rooms, surgical intervention being free. Of course, there’s many downsides to the NHS which can be inferred as counteractive but the fact that these people are working day and night to help us is something we cannot and should not take for granted.

Hunt, along with the rest of this pathetically useless government, are dissuading the public from supporting the doctor’s strike by claiming harm will come to those with pre-booked appointments, particularly the elderly and cancer patients etc. Bullshit. The appointments have not been cancelled, they’ve been rebooked for a later date. If the patients were in such grave danger, surely they’d be admitted into hospital and be under the care of surgeons, registrars and senior consultants? Outpatient appointments have been affected but this is not the end of the world. It’s really not that big of deal compared to what these doctors endure daily. If we had even an inkling of what their schedules must be like, we’d hardly be kicking up a fuss and Hunt’s position would most definitely change. It’s very easy to criticise a strike when you won’t be remotely affected by the consequences of your own actions.

Hunt also claims that the lives of the public will be put in danger, but he’s failing to register, or possibly ignoring, the fact that lives will be in danger with overtired doctors. They’re more likely to make a mistake if they’re unsafely overworked. This kind of gross ignorance sums up the government. Surgeons, nurses, doctors, they’re all working incomprehensible hours out of their own goodwill, and a disregard for this is inhumane.

If anyone is to be blamed over this walkout, it’s David Cameron and his NHS cuts. The only people “damaging” patients’ health is this government.

I support the junior doctors, and their decision to oppose a cut in pay as well as overworking to the point of disregard for their own health.

#SaveOurNHS

#JuniorDoctorStrike

Work & Life Update: Dec 2015

Original Writing

IT’S NEARLY CHRISTMAS. LET THE CARNAGE BEGIN.

I’m now four whole days (6-9 hours per day) into my new job and can honestly say that I’ve never worked so hard and been so happy with a fashion-retail job in my entire life. Not only are my team fantastic, but they’re incredibly understanding and fun to be around (My manager will be very chuffed when he sees this.)

Working for one of the biggest ‘high end’ fashion brands is pretty daunting and by the end of a full day’s shift, I’m ready for bed. But the work isn’t unenjoyable and that’s the main thing (I say that now, but I guarantee that opinion will change drastically once the christmas week and shopping carnage begins.)  I look forward to my shifts, despite some of them being 9 hours long. I consider myself awfully lucky to have this job as it’s a stepping stone to progression in the industry!

The aim of taking this year off was to focus on my health and take time to recover from whatever is going on inside me. After undergoing a procedure and having ridiculous amounts of tests done, it’s still inconclusive which is exactly what we weren’t hoping for. Nevertheless, I’m looking at the lack of information on these tests as a positive sign, in the hope that I will recover in my own time. My condition(s), whatever they may be, are unpredictable and can be triggered by anything and everything – fatty food, taking medication to getting a cold! That’s why it’s imperative for me to not overwork myself but at the same time keep busy and preoccupied. For a long time, I felt incredibly low and disheartened by this illness but now I’ve realised that I’m one of the not so lucky ones – and that’s okay.

I want to enjoy the next few weeks coming up to the big 25th!

Happy christmas countdown,

A x

Panorama: 26th October 2015 – Britain’s Mental Health Crisis

Current Affairs, Original Writing

After watching Panorama’s recent documentary tonight, I’m absolutely appalled at the state of mental health care. Of course, this is not the first reminder of the terrible state the government cuts have reduced the trusts to, but it’s an imperative reminder to all of us that we need to raise awareness for those vulnerable citizens silenced by their psychological disorders.

Firstly, the assessment of those “less ill” to free more beds for furthermore patients. Sickening. A patient who had the intention of committing suicide at a train station shouldn’t be “assessed” on whether or not they’re worthy of a bed: this is nonnegotiable. Vulnerable citizens are silenced due to their psychological conditions which is the most shameful fact of all. I’ve said this before in my last post regarding mental health and I’ll say it again: a cancer patient, or a terminally ill patient, will not be refused a bed, neither will they be “assessed” on how unwell they are. They’d be given a bed as soon as possible, with the professionals working as hard as they can to get them on the road to recovery, or at least to make sure they’re not suffering as much. Why aren’t mental health patients treated with this urgency?

How can patients, who are assessed to be suffering from their health conditions to a great extent, but not as great as other patients, say suicidal, be cast out into the community with no social help or support system to rely on if they relapse? Where’s the security that they’ll be helped if they ever feel vulnerable or have a bad day? This isn’t just a disgrace, it’s an atrocity and complete disregard for mental health sufferers.

Fundamentally, patients are judged on their suffering. As someone who’s been rushed to Accident and Emergency 11 times over the past two years with multiple health conditions, I know that patients are assessed on how much pain they’re in. The more pain you’re in, the quicker you are treated. As a sufferer of anxiety which almost crippled me to not leaving my house for weeks on end, my parents and I felt I had no choice but to receive private help as my condition was too serious to be thrown onto a waiting list. Which could take months. This is where the problem lies, and where it will continue to lie until the stigma attached to mental health has dissolved. Most of us cannot afford private healthcare, let alone private mental healthcare. How can the government expect a patient to pay £1000 a day to receive help and support which needs to be offered free, and is easily accessible?

I urge as many of you as possible to sign the petition below, which, if 100,000 signatures are received, the parliament will be obliged to take action and debate the bed crisis.

https://petition.parliament.uk/petitions/109889

This is an increasingly concerning situation and we are all ambassadors for those in need of our support and help. Together we can make a difference, and we will.

A x

PS: Follow my twitter @_anisahhamid for more tweets regarding this.

HEALTH UPDATE: OCTOBER 2015

Original Writing

I’m back! (Ish)

After what seems like forever, I’m finally getting into the swing of things again with regards to university assignments and blogging 🙂

The last time I updated you all on my health, it had a rather dreary tone to it; I was left in the lurch with what I was actually suffering from and there never seemed to be an end to the pain. Not all that much has improved with regards to the pain, but I have a diagnosis!

Sphincter of Oddi Dysfunction. It sounds complicated (and it is) but ultimately, it all boils down to the after-effects of having my gallbladder removed. My body is currently struggling to process the flow of juices flowing from my liver to my pancreas, and the muscle which controls the flow of pancreatic juices from my bile duct into my duodenum (eh, such technical terms) is overwhelmed with stress to regulate all these juices, so it goes into spasm. Thus, the pain hits. Every time the muscle spasms, the pain hits my left side, where my pancreas is located, my right side, where my gallbladder used to be and my shoulder; I’m still unsure as to why and how my shoulder comes into this. At times the pain becomes disabling to the point where I cannot move, sit or stand without doubling over but most of the time, it is a background pain which is awfully uncomfortable.

After having a consultation with my former surgeon, he agreed on the above diagnosis which is apparently common with people who have undergone a cholecystectomy such as myself. The only problem is how to tackle it!

Having explored every avenue possible including CT scans, MRI scans, X-Rays, ultrasounds and an endoscopy, which all came back with no indication of a latent stone or any obstruction to cause such pain, I was put on chronic pain relief. Having been on medication since the beginning of the year, both medical professionals and myself believe it’s time for something to be done. The next possible avenue to explore, however, is surgery. Nothing elaborate, a simple cutting of the muscle which is causing the agony. The only problem with this surgery is the risks involved; they’re slightly worrying! I have an appointment in 2 weeks time with a specialist in this area of surgery to discuss the pros and cons of the procedure with my parents and I.

So, thats the update so far! It’s not all doom and gloom anymore, despite being in pain for two and a half years 🙂

Ciao for now,

A x

World Mental Health Day 2015

Current Affairs, Original Writing

A couple of days ago marked World Mental Health Day, a day of showing awareness and support for those suffering from mental health conditions. As an anxiety sufferer, I believe mental health is grossly belittled and not enough is done to support those who have to live with harrowing mental health conditions.

It took me nearly two years to fully understand what I suffered from. Having both general and social anxiety is a pain in the bum; it affects literally every part of your life. From getting on public transport to walking into a doctor’s waiting room, and even walking into a room full of family and friends, it’s a dreadful thing to live with. And that’s just the social aspect! When my therapist told me the feelings I was suffocated with on a daily basis were related to anxiety, I was confused, scared and ashamed. I didn’t tell anyone for months, not even my parents or family. In my head, anxiety was a weakness and I was simply a weak person who couldn’t control her emotions.

The first person I told was, at the time, my best friend. He helped me through the worst periods of anxiety and rescued me when I felt like I was drowning in my thoughts. Having someone there by my side whilst my brain exploded into a million thoughts was a blessing. In fact, without him, I would not be sitting here today; he saved me from myself. Anxiety in a nutshell is overthinking every little part of your life until, to use the cliche phrase, a molehill becomes a mountain. You end up worrying over everything, thinking you’ve done something wrong or there’s something wrong with you; you feel like no one will understand what you’re thinking and in most cases, sadly you’re right. Not many will understand you. But it’s finding the support systems and networks out there to help those who feel completely isolated by their conditions which is so imperative. The fact that many people feel the need to see professionals privately is absolutely absurd and a complete failure of the government in supporting their vulnerable citizens. The idea of someone, or someone’s parents, paying £70 for a professional to help one through an ordeal as traumatising as their own psychological disorder is shameful. No one deserves to be given the ultimatum of private professional help or being dismissed onto a waiting list.

I’ll ask you a question: if a cancer patient, or a terminally ill patient was told they needed to wait to seek treatment for their condition, is that considered acceptable? No. There would be a public outcry at the injustice of forcing an unwell patient to wait. So, what makes mental health any different from physical health? We may not be hurting physically, but we are hurting mentally. Cries of pain can come from within, unnoticed by others. Mental health is JUST as important and life-threatening as physical health. I suffer from both myself and can confirm that my physical suffering, which has been rather intense and at times, unbearable over the past three years, was just as painful as my mental suffering. So throwing someone under the carpet with the insincere promise of a “waiting list” is pathetic.

More needs to be done to support mental health sufferers. More needs to be done to help sufferers come to terms with what they have, so they can move forward and control it.

Right now, it’s explicitly clear that the government has failed us. Now’s the time to make a difference, with or without Cameron’s help.