I have been physiotherapied!
Apr. 3rd, 2003 09:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
baratronIn a funny mood: up and down like a yoyo. I feel the need to blether, and I feel embarrassed blethering in livejournal. I suppose I want to go to a cafe with a group of people and socialise, but it's the middle of the week, Richard is working late, and I can't get out by myself anyway (can't physically, I mean). Chatting online fulfills some of my need to socialise, but my actual journal seems too permanent for me to want to put inane waffle that might only make sense to me in it. I did that the other night, and it was terribly embarrassing come the morning.
So - um, yes. I will try to stick to facts. I have been to the physiotherapist. (There isn't a verb for that, is there? I mean, it's purely passive - you "go to physiotherapy" or you "have physiotherapy", you aren't "physiotherapied" - even when it's the sort of physiotherapy where you lie down and do nothing while various machines are used on you!) It was as successful as I expected, i.e. she confirmed the doctor's diagnosis based on my answers to "The" standard questionnaire for this illness (and I have realised from talking to her that a couple of other things I hadn't even thought of as symptoms probably are!). So I definitely have hyperventilation occulta or chronic hyperventilation syndrome - the question that remains now is whether it is the cause of all my ailments or merely a cause. I now understand what I am supposed to be doing in terms of exercises, and she said some Very interesting things, which I will elaborate on at some later date.
My dad drove me to the appointment, but my parents wanted to go to the Ideal Home Exhibition (I will save my sarcasm for later), so afterwards they dropped me at West Brompton station and I came home by train. That was almost the shortest possible journey, in terms of walking, and I still only just managed it. I have sat on every bench and wall between West Brompton and my house. Eurgh. But it was a nice day to sit in the sunshine. I just wished I'd had a book, other than the self-help book about CHS that's written in noddy-speak. The physiotherapist showed me another book, written by the same author but for doctors and physiotherapists, and it was about 1000 times better. I should start a career writing self-help books for people who do actually have brains and don't need to be patronised - people who want scientific explanations (with equations! and diagrams!) for their illnesses rather than hand-waving and head-patting. As it is, I just end up on Medscape all the time.
Richard just came in with MMM DELICIOUS SOY MILK from Starbucks so I'm going to blether at him, and come back to this later ;)
So - um, yes. I will try to stick to facts. I have been to the physiotherapist. (There isn't a verb for that, is there? I mean, it's purely passive - you "go to physiotherapy" or you "have physiotherapy", you aren't "physiotherapied" - even when it's the sort of physiotherapy where you lie down and do nothing while various machines are used on you!) It was as successful as I expected, i.e. she confirmed the doctor's diagnosis based on my answers to "The" standard questionnaire for this illness (and I have realised from talking to her that a couple of other things I hadn't even thought of as symptoms probably are!). So I definitely have hyperventilation occulta or chronic hyperventilation syndrome - the question that remains now is whether it is the cause of all my ailments or merely a cause. I now understand what I am supposed to be doing in terms of exercises, and she said some Very interesting things, which I will elaborate on at some later date.
My dad drove me to the appointment, but my parents wanted to go to the Ideal Home Exhibition (I will save my sarcasm for later), so afterwards they dropped me at West Brompton station and I came home by train. That was almost the shortest possible journey, in terms of walking, and I still only just managed it. I have sat on every bench and wall between West Brompton and my house. Eurgh. But it was a nice day to sit in the sunshine. I just wished I'd had a book, other than the self-help book about CHS that's written in noddy-speak. The physiotherapist showed me another book, written by the same author but for doctors and physiotherapists, and it was about 1000 times better. I should start a career writing self-help books for people who do actually have brains and don't need to be patronised - people who want scientific explanations (with equations! and diagrams!) for their illnesses rather than hand-waving and head-patting. As it is, I just end up on Medscape all the time.
Richard just came in with MMM DELICIOUS SOY MILK from Starbucks so I'm going to blether at him, and come back to this later ;)
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Date: 2003-04-03 01:29 pm (UTC)Congratulations - I'm glad that you're getting to the bottom of this. Even if CHS isn't the sole cause, addressing it should ease some of your symptoms, right?
As for the Ideal Home Exhibition, I regard it as a monument to the small-c-conservative tastes of middle England. I go about once or twice a decade (so by rights am overdue by a year) to remind myself that chintz and mock-1930s Tudor revival Barrett homes are still unappealing and to marvel at the latest useless labour-saving gadgets (which for some reason are always designed to make extracting corks, peeling eggs or slicing vegetables easier). If the Ideal Home Exhibition did not exist, it would be necessary to invent it so that our Europeans brethren had something to mock us for.