Looking To The Future.

Something turned up on my doorstep this morning. I'd been expecting it, but when it was actually delivered I began to get a little anxious.

The package has the potential to do one of two things: scare the living hell out of me, or enable me to relax for the next thirty or forty years (or however long God allows me to remain a part of this wonderful world of ours)

I'll be writing more about this delivery in the coming weeks, but for those who desperately want to know what it is here's a tantalising clue:

More to follow soon...........

Telling Tales - A Cry For Help!

I've been writing about my fibromyalgia journey for a few years now and I'm pretty sure that most of my readers are fully up to speed with how my fibro affects me on a day to day basis. I write about it to help in my personal crusade to raise awareness of the fact that men get fibro too - I'm also pretty sure that that fact is now well known in the chronic illness community and it is getting out to the wider community too - even some doctors believe it!!

At the moment I am in the middle of a major flare - which is why you haven't seen me posting very much in recent days on social media etc. I'm sorry about that as I do like to promote FibroMen as often as I can. The truth is I am depressed and my depression is making me extremely tired, so when I'm not at work I have to rest. I'm sure you understand and can empathise with that.

So, I'm throwing open the doors to allow others to 'fill-in' for me whilst I'm resting.

I operate another site called "My-Fibro-My-Algia" - and, as you can imagine from the title, it's about fibromyalgia and other chronic pain conditions - not just in men, but in everyone! The aim of the site is to get people talking about their condition - sharing their journey of hope over adversity with chronic pain conditions. The ultimate goal of the site is raising awareness but it is hoped that visitors will learn more about their own conditions through positive stories by real sufferers. They don't all have to be positive of course - your story might be one similar to mine, where you're currently in a bad place. We don't want to pull any punches. Living with a chronic pain condition is difficult at best and downright unbearable when things get really bad. We want our readers to understand this - especially the newly diagnosed who might be struggling to come to terms with their diagnosis - there are going to be good days and bad days, as with everything in life, but our message will be "You are not alone."

The site is in need of some content - and that is where you come in. Please take the pressure off me for a while and help me by writing a short piece about your "Journey So Far" with your condition. You can write about getting a diagnosis, what your life was like before and after diagnosis, treatments that failed, treatments that worked, alternative therapies, exercising, voodoo, devil worship, witches covens, witch doctors - literally anything that you have been through on your journey with your chronic pain condition.

By sharing your story you'll be doing three things:

• HELPING TO RAISE AWARENESS

• INSPIRING HOPE IN THOSE NEWLY DIAGNOSED OR STRUGGLING TO COME TO TERMS WITH A DIAGNOSIS

• HELPING ME TO GET OVER THIS FLARE AND DEPRESSION BY RESTING 

(I can manage the cutting and pasting to share your stories though!!)

So, if you're interested, and have the time, I'd appreciate any help I can get to get more content on the site.

You can share your story HERE.

Thank you. I'm off back to bed - when I wake I hope to have an inbox full of your stories!!

(Shared with Chronic Friday Linkup and Chronic Illness Bloggers )

Taking the Rough with The Rough.

I had a colleague come up to me at work the other day and say "You look rough!"

I was shocked. Struck dumb by the fact that someone had noticed I looked ill. Usually people tell me how well I look! I had no response to give her except my stock response of "Oh, I'm not so bad!" Nothing could be further from the truth. On top of my daily struggle with persistent lower back and hip pain, IBS and toe pain (yes, toe pain - new one on me!!) I seem to have contracted the dreaded influenza that has been doing the rounds for the past few weeks. Everyone at work has had it, my wife actually collapsed whilst serving a customer last week because of it, my daughter got it late last week and now it's found me.

When I get struck by flu (or even just a mild cold) it magnifies all of my other symptoms. My famously disreputable bowels become even more disreputable, my chronic pain - which is welded at six or seven, somehow unwelds itself and hikes it's way up to an eight or nine, add to that a sprinking of nasal congestion tasting like one of my bowel movements, shivers, being boiling hot and then freezing cold, sweating, headache, blocked nose, runny nose, sore throat and a raucous chesty cough and you have the perfect recipe for feeling really, really ill!!.

Being acutely ill whilst at the same time battling being chronically ill is what really makes a rough life rougher - but it has its benefits. Most notable of which is actually looking ill.

Meeting The Ghost of My Former Self.

I used to be quite a fit and healthy young man. From the age of sixteen I was forced into activities I wouldn't ordinarily have undertaken. Up to sixteen I avoided any physical activity because I thought I couldn't do them with any flare or skill like my schoolmates could. I was crap at everything - running - always came last, swimming - always came last, football - always last to be picked, cricket - ditto, hockey - ditto. Sport + Gary McArthur = Disaster.

At sixteen I joined the police cadets and everything changed. I knew it would and I wanted it to. Suddenly I was challenging my attitude to physical activities as something to be shunned by forcing myself (or being forced) to undertake them on a daily basis. Granted I still wasn't any good at them, but I tried to break my mindset towards them. The police force got me hiking, abseiling, camping, canoeing, mountain climbing, cross-country running, orienteering, weight training and partaking in almost every other sport known to man in much the same way as the army trains a team of dropouts into soldiers. The police force instilled discipline and order and gave me a massive sense of achievement. In amongst all of the legal definitions and laws and regulations the police force also gave me good health which lasted me well into my thirties. Conversely, it also taught me how to drink like a fish! (but never lose my self control) and that's another story for another time.

From sixteen until my mid-thirties I considered myself to be a fit and healthy individual - not obsessive, but I remained lean and strong and enjoyed outdoor activites like hiking. I'd bump into former school mates who'd let themselves go by piling on the pounds and I felt quietly smug that I hadn't descended into obesity. I was no longer embarrassed by my slender build as I had been at school.

Then.

Then I suddenly died. It wasn't gradual or slowly degenerative. It was overnight. I woke one day with backache. It was 2003. Between then and now I haven't had a single day without pain. Obviously, there have been good and bad, as well as bad and really bad, days, but every day I have had some level of pain in my back. Sometime after the backache began I started to get pain all over my body - arms. legs, head, neck, feet, fingers, toes, hips, knees, and sometime after those symptoms started I began to get the internal ones, IBS, Crohn's, you know the drill. Fibro affects us all in pretty much the same way and a whole myriad of different strokes for different folks.

The point is this, on that day in 2003 when I awoke with backache, my former self had died in its sleep. Over the course of the next thirteen years, as each symptom struck, I gradually became the ghost of the Gary McArthur I used to be.

The physically fit Gary McArthur became the disabled Gary McArthur, and over the course of 2015 the Gary McArthur who was always positive and happy go lucky and forward thinking and strong, became the depressed Gary McArthur, the negative and whining and hopeless Gary McArthur, and it was at this point in my life that I finally met, or recognised, the ghost of my former self - that skinny and spotty little sixteen year old boy, who'd been scared of all physical activities who, through sheer determination, had turned it all around, who'd laughed in the face of his fears and grown to love them (without ever being any good at any of them) was dead. He died when I gave up being 'well'. He died when I gave up fighting. He died when I lost hope during the course of 2015 and became depressed. He died despite reading hundreds of blog posts by other fibromyalgia 'survivors', all with a positive message that laughed in the face of their illness. He died when I stopped laughing in the face of mine.

But, fear not, for that skinny little sixteen year old's spirit is still inside me and he will live again.

I've set myself a goal for 2016: To find the spirit and the grit and the determination and the hope I had as a sixteen year old boy, and laugh once more in the face of my illnesses. To challenge myself in the way I did when I joined a career path I knew I wasn't suited to, simply to face my fear of all things physical.

Being A Fibro Dad at Christmas

Christmas is a wonderful time of year. A time for living, a time for believing, a time for trusting, not deceiving, love and laughter and joy ever after, ours for the taking,..... ahem! sorry, slipped into Cliff Richard mode there, but Christmas is definitely a great occasion best spent with family and friends. Great nights in, great nights out, fun, laughter and yes, joy ever after. (Cliff was so right!)

But what's Christmas like when you're in constant pain?

I've spent thirteen Christmasses in varying degrees of agony. Christmas 2002 was spent looking after my heavily pregnant wife - pushing her around town in a wheelchair because the baby had decided to settle on a nerve somehow. A year later and I'd been diagnosed with fibromyalgia, a condition which I didn't fully appreciate at the time. Nor did I have time to. A new baby to care for, a wife with post natal depression and anxiety to care for, a house to look after and a full time job, there was no time to think about what I was doing to myself. 

I started coming down with every condition known to mankind - flu, bronchitis, cold after cold, stomach disturbances, and pain. So much pain. My back was the worst, lower to middle, aching constantly, but I fought on and each Christmas I stood at the oven cooking the family feast. No matter how much pain I was in. I'll be doing so this year too. My wife and I promised ourselves that we'd book somewhere for this Christmas but her mother wouldn't hear of it, so  it'll be just as it always is.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy Christmas, and I love cooking the meal, but once in a while I'd like to give my body a rest from it. Thankfully we don't have a massive family descending upon us each year - but, sometimes, it would be nice to, so that we could go to them!

Also, since 2003 we've had our little bundle of joy to entertain and excite in the run up to the big day. A a father I was suddenly expected to not only cook the Christmas dinner but also unpack and assemble the latest fad-toy - Disney Princess houses, fairy coaches, Barbie cars, kitchens, Littlest Pet Shop villages, Play Mobil schools and villages and cafe's, Moshi-Monster tree houses - all of which seem to have been packaged in high security metal twists and impregnable duct tape, with no prospect of speedy opening or the "Easy assembly" promised on the box! It's difficult enough for a fully able bodied person to fathom these things out. Manufacturers obviously conclude that because you're buying for a child, you're young enough and fit enough to unpack and build their items - they don't think of the less able bodied.  

Thankfully, this year it's fashion and make-up and Hunger Games Mockingjay stuff so there'll be no assembling (fingers firmly crossed) and Emily is at an age to understand that I'm no longer Superman. Imagine telling an excited little girl that she can't play with her new toys until Daddy has the strength to assemble them? It never happened. I pushed through the pain to complete the task, and paid for it later. But it was all worth it in the end and we have some very happy memories to look back on - my only regret is that I don't know how much better it could have been had I not been in agony for most of it.

How do you cope with Christmas? Do you push through and suffer the consequences later, or do you hide yourself away until it's all over? 

Welcome to H.M.P Fibromyalgia. You'll Never Leave.

Fibromyalgia is akin to a prison. Not a nice, open prison, or even a high security pampered lock-down with all the comforts of home. Oh no! Fibromyalgia is prison with hard labour. No chance of parole. No time off for good behaviour. No chance of ever regaining your freedom. Fibromyalgia is a lifer prison, with bells on!

HMP Fibromyalgia has everything you need to live a normal life, a lovely home, comfy furniture, nice surroundings, you even get to live with your family if you have one, you might even be allowed to work in a real job, for a while. In fact, from the outside, no one would ever know you had been convicted and sentenced to life. But, inside, it's a living nightmare, a daily (and nightly) walk through hell.

I was 'imprisoned' over twelve years ago, locked up by invisible, sadistic guards who seem to want to punish me for daring to dream of being pain-free, stabbing at my intestines, twisting my muscles and tendons to breaking point, forcing cotton-wool into my head, switching on my brain just when it wants to go to sleep, allowing me the strength to plan a family outing and then cruelly intensifying my pain levels on the day of the trip, or feeding me something which, ordinarily, does not upset my delicate gut lining - except on this occasion, denying me the very basic human right to be pain free and lead a 'normal' life. 

HMP Fibromyalgia is the most vile and terrifying of all prisons because it gives you the outward appearance of being free whilst surreptitiously removing all of your freedom.

The evil and sadistic invisible guards have the upper hand at all times. You never know they're there. You never know when they'll attack but attack they will, and it will be when you least expect it. This makes you anxious every day, and that anxiety never leaves you. You may be spared punishment for an hour, a day, a week or more, but the anxiety of an imminent attack never leaves you. This psychological torture, combined with constant pain, eventually breaks you and you become depressed - as I am now - adding yet another dimension to your life sentence in another wing of HMP Fibromyalgia.

Welcome to HMP Fibromyalgia - Depression Wing. We might let you leave one day.


Hang on, No, we won't.


Oh, alright then.


Nope, just kidding!.

Are You A 'Loner' or A 'Sharer'?

When you live with any chronic condition there are highs and lows. For me the highs are when my pain is at a manageable level and I can get on with the things I want to do, whether it's mending something in the house, doing a bit of art, blogging or just trawling the internet for a couple of hours. 

These activities provide me with a bit of 'me' time, when I can escape the rigours of family life with only mild pain and life is good. Another 'high' for me is spending time with my wife and daughter - trips to the park or the local museum for my daughter and me, and days out as a family (usually involving shopping - which I abhor, but put up with for the sake of family unity!) as well as cosy nights in front of the TV. These are the things I enjoy during the 'highs'.

But doing these activities during the 'lows', when my pain is riding high,  I find depressing. It's because I'm unable to enjoy them as I normally would. I get that. Because I can't sit still to draw or watch TV, I can't walk (far) without severe pain and I can't focus on anything but the pain. It's depressing for me because I feel I'm letting my family down. It is during the 'lows' that I find myself wishing for solitude.

I'm not really nice to be around when I'm in agony. I do try, really try, not to let it affect my family, but I fail, really fail, at hiding the fact I'm in a 'low'. I don't think my family would, or should, want to be around me - so I pray to be alone. However, I rarely am alone and this makes me depressed - especially if I wake in a 'low' on a day we had planned to do something and we have to cancel - because of me, it's my fault, I'm depriving them of their fun, if it wasn't for me they'd be able to get on with it - that sort of depressed, that sort of feeling of 'if I was alone I wouldn't be letting anybody down.' 

So I've reached the conclusion that, essentially, and because I'm in unmanageable pain for probably 75% of the time, I am a 'Loner.' I hate 'sharing' the 75% of my life.

My wife is the opposite. My wife hates to be alone when she's suffering with her ME. She loves to share her pain and fatigue symptoms with us and explain how she's feeling at every given opportunity. I find that odd and, at times, profoundly irritating and yet it is also endearing and intriguing. Being polar opposites I find makes me want to be more like her. I could never go in to as much detail about my level of pain with her as she does about hers to me but, sometimes, I wish I could unburden myself like that. Case in point: I hold back on everything I'm feeling when talking to my GP - and because of my reticence to share the finer details, he is confused about how best to treat me and I no sooner sit down in front of him than I'm walking out of the door. My wife's appointments last a minimum of fifteen minutes. My wife definitely likes to 'Share' it all!!

So, what about you? Are you a 'Loner' or a 'Sharer'?

(This post was originally shared at MyFibroBlog)
  

A New Forum for Men (and everyone) Touched By Fibromyalgia.

Our parent organisation, FibroMen, has set up a new discussion board for men with (and others touched by) fibromyalgia.

Yes, we know! There are lots of fibromyalgia discussion boards and forums dotted all over the internet, and most of them are great. 

FibroMen as an organisation want to build their community and online audience and the forum is one way of attaining their goal of raising awareness. The site and forum is open to all, not only males with fibromyalgia, but everyone who is touched by the syndrome - wives, partners, families and carers alike are invited to share experiences - the highs, the lows and yes, the aches and pains of fibromyalgia.

Please join us by writing a quick introduction and posting a question or query that's been playing on your mind, or writing a quick helpful tip for living life with fibromyalgia.

The message boards are accessible on both sites (FibroMen and FibroGuys) we'd love to meet you there.

Please help FibroMen and FibroGuys make the forum a success by sharing with your social media contacts and wider audience.

Visit the forum here.

Thanks

Pregabalin Update

I've been taking pregabalin (Lyrica) 150mg twice a day for about six weeks now and, if I'm honest, I can feel no benefit with it. The pain in my right hip is still as bad as ever and my lower back pain is still like a toothache - constant throbbing and sharp stabbing pains when I move a certain way or bend to pick something up.

I called my GP today for advice and he suggested I take two 150mg doses twice a day - what he seems to forget is that the last time I was on the higher dose I got horrendous dizziness - no good for me in my everyday life or my work life. I told him this and he replied by saying 'Well, if you're not prepared to try again there's very few options left open for you.'

I feel like a guinea pig for the drug companies as it is. However, to make my point I'm going to try to take 600mg per day again - just for one month to see if a) It works on my pain and b) I get the dizziness again (which I'm almost certain to as I get it mildy on my current dose of 300mg per day)

I have so many suggestions for treatment that the doctor could try and, if I have to make another trip to see him about my medication reactions, I'm going to take the list with me. I know a few adversely interact with other meds I'm taking, but there are others that he could try - if he can get over the shock of the cost to the NHS!!

(Another side effect of pregabalin is weight gain - but that doesn't phase me as I've been underweight for years - it's the dizziness that gets me most.)

Wish me luck.

The Simple Task.

I was left with just one task to complete before my wife returned from work today. I'd woken feeling refreshed and vibrant for a change, capable of anything.

It was meant to be a five minute job. Take down the old shower curtain and hang the new one. Twelve hooks to unclip, remove from the old curtain and attach to the new one, then rehang on the rail.

Dead easy. Dead wrong!

The pain in my back intensified as I reached up to unclip the hooks from the rail - but there's always pain in my back. I could cope with a little more for the short time this was going to take.

After unclipping three of the twelve hooks from the rail I began to get intense cramping in the thenar eminence (the fleshy part of the thumb where it merges into the palm) like I'd been squeezing a rubber ball for hours, or gripping on to a rope. Only nine more of the little buggers to unclip. Perhaps if I stood on a footstool so that my hands were level with the rail it wouldn't hurt so much. I fetched a stool which didn't quite give me the height I needed, but made things marginally easier on my hands. Three. Four. Five. By the sixth hook I had to stop. My thumbs throbbed and I simply couldn't apply enough pressure to unclip them from the rail.  Hooks seven to twelve took a further thirty minutes to unclip - I had to rest my hands for five minutes between each one. 

Now came the task of removing the hooks from the old curtain. Fiddly little things coming off and fiddly little things going on to the new curtain. Another half an hour. More painful throbbing in my hands. Thankfully it didn't last too long, after a short while the cramping diluted to a dull throb and then only hurt if I touched it - like a bruise. 

The pain has gone completely now, but it's got me thinking about how this terrible affliction is affecting my day to day life. Simple tasks, which I'd once do without even thinking, now have to be meticulously planned around the expected pain - allowing for it in terms of time taken to complete and having all I might need to hand so I don't have to go searching for stuff and, of course, in true British worker fashion, having lots of rest breaks and copious quantities of tea!

Today's task was so simple, I hadn't even thought how difficult it would be. For such a simple task to have such an effect on my body concerned me greatly. How much further will this illness take me. My doctor advises that there is no cure and that it will get progressively worse, but the rate of progression is quickening and I'm worried that I won't be able to do anything at all in just a few years. Fibromyalgia might not be a life-limiting illness, but I certainly discovered today that it's an 'ability-limiting' one.

Happy Easter

Good Friday. Just got up and it would appear that it is going to be a good day indeed. Pain levels are around three or four - which is excellent for me and the crohn's seems to be settling down now that I'm back on the prednisolone. Don't want to tempt fate though as I have to be at work for 11.30. Have a happy Easter everyone.

I'll leave you with this cute image of the Easter Bunny...

...enough to cheer up any dull Good Friday!

Is it an ache? Is it a pain? YES, It's Fibro-Man!!

I used to feel, as a man with fibromyalgia, wholly embarrassed at my situation. I tried for years to conceal the intense agony I was suffering every day. I'd try to carry on with daily life in as much a normal way as I could. Doing the gardening, decorating, cleaning windows, laying carpets, building flat-pack furniture - all the usual stuff a normal healthy married man in his mid to late thirties could, and should be able to, do with ease. Except it wasn't easy. Nothing was easy, cutting the grass left me in agony. If I mentioned it to my family they'd respond with "Oh, for heaven's sake Gary, you've only cut a little lawn!" I'd suffer in silence, embarrassed at the fact that it really shouldn't have left me feeling so much pain. Feeling less of a man each time I mentioned having pain anywhere, everywhere in my body. If I had to disassemble the vacuum cleaner to unclog it, or fix the belt, unscrewing the screws left my arms feeling bruised for days afterwards - like I'd done a thousand push-ups. That's not normal for anyone, let alone an otherwise fit man.

Although I was initially given a 'preliminary diagnosis' of fibromyalgia in 2003 (when I was 37) it wasn't until last year that it was confirmed as fibro - having spent the preceding eleven years visiting the doctor more times than I visited my workplace, and having ruled out every other ailment known to man. Along the way I became stressed, and the stress made things worse. I developed severe pains in my gut, kept throwing up and running to the loo, they diagnosed Crohn's disease in 2008. By hiding things I'd taken the stress internally and made my situation ten times worse. Now, I not only had to cope with the pain of fibro but also the new, life changing disease called Crohn's! Both incurable, only manageable - and barely manageable at that.

So, knowing what I now know, why did I hide my illness for so long. It's not the fact that it wasn't fully diagnosed or that I thought it might be 'all in my head.' It was embarrassment. Pure and simple. I was a man with responsibilities. I had a stressful job, my clients relied on me, my family relied on me. How could I be everything everyone expected me to be when I was in so much pain, or when I couldn't drag myself away from the bog?

Is it an ache? Is it a pain? Yes, it's FIBRO-MAN!

I now know that I'm not alone. There are millions of people in the same, or worse, condition as me. Most are women it's true, but that wasn't the cause of my embarrassment. It was purely and simply the fact that I couldn't be the 'man' I (and only me) expected me to be. Strong, dependable, do anything for anyone kind of man. 

But I'm not. I accept that now. I'm "Fibro-Man", with a loving and understanding wife and family, who stood by me through it all and will continue to do so - providing I don't try to be something I'm not and end up killing myself.

I'm "Fibro-Man" and proud! Now fetch me my walking stick!

I can stand the pain - it's the gut turbulence that affects me most!

Of all the many symptoms of fibromyalgia I find the upset bowels and digestion problems the most debilitating.

I have pain constantly and, over the years, I've learned to live with or manage it in my own way, but the crohn's disease I find the most frustrating and soul destroying symptom of my auto-immune system failings.

The fact that it can turn itself on and off in the blink of an eye - so I go from normal, healthy, quiet gut at 9am to full blown diarrhoea and painful flatulence at 9.45am then back again by 6pm, or not, depending on how long it wants me to suffer.

There's no predicting it. There's no eating or avoiding certain foods (in my experience) There's no rhyme or reason to it. It just starts, last a few hours or a few days, then stops and comes back a few days later or a few weeks later or, if I'm exceptionally unlucky, a few hours later! It can take the form of painful bloating and acid reflux, or painful bloating, acid reflux, nausea, diarrhoea, stomach and arse cramping, excessive wind, ultra-urgent diarrhoea or constipation, or a combination of all of these!

It's the unpredictability of crohn's that upsets me the most. I can predict when and how my pain is going to affect me - because it's there all the time and I "just get on with it." 

But the crohn's is 'quite literally' a pain in the arse in its unpredictability. Of all my conditions it's the one that makes me the most anxious, the one that gets me wound up to the point of raving maniac and the one that controls how my life is lived because at the slightest hint of a flare I batten down the hatches and all other activities stop and, as a result, it's the one that affects my family the most too.

Saturday - Dad n Daughter time

Emily with Pepper (Our cat of 17 years who sadly died in February)

On Saturdays my wife Lesley heads out to work at 9.30am which means Emily and myself are left to do our own thing - this usually involves lounging aound the house, a trip to the local shops or a trip to the park. We'll both admit that lounging around the house is our favourite Saturday pastime
- and I have to consider how I'm feeling in terms of health conditions before we make any firm plans to venture outside!

Emily

On the odd occasion when we do go out it's usually up to Stewart Park in Middlesbrough - home of the Captain Cook Birthplace Museum and our favourite cafe, Henry's, where we indulge ourselves with their delicious bacon butties and coffee and sweets!

It's our favourite place in Middlesbrough.

Saturdays have become Dad n Emily days! Restful together time when we can craft, draw, watch TV or nip out for a bite to eat - and chill.

Dad in silly hat!

We love Saturdays!

I'm thankful that, in Middlesbrough, we have everything we need on our doorstep - the park is half a mile from our house and if we drive for five more miles south we have access to the beautiful North Yorkshire Moors National Park - I tend to moan a bit about our town but it really couldn't be positioned better for amenities.

Friends with benefits.

Here in the UK, over the last four and a half years, the coalition government has, under the guise of austerity, consistently and relentlessly, cut or curbed the benefits of those least able to defend themselves, whilst also removing, or making more difficult, the ability for claimants to appeal against the decision. 

The introduction of a number of heinous laws - such as bedroom tax, benefits cap and changes to the way benefits are calculated and awarded - has had a direct impact on the disabled. Propaganda against benefit claimants has never been so 'popular' - with mainstream TV shows depicting those on benefits as 'scroungers' and 'layabouts'. And, whilst it is fair to say that the last Labour government created a benefits culture, it is also fair to say that this coalition has created and nurtured a big-business and banking culture which rewards those at the top (and whose actions caused the banking collapse in 2008) who do their best to avoid taxes and reward themselves with massive bonuses without risk of any financial penalty. Their feeble protestations that "We're all in this together." no longer ring true, when you showcase their actions against those on benefits compared with their actions against their party paymasters.

And there seems to be no opposition to this, with both the Tories and Labour promising even further restrictions on benefits if they win the upcoming general election on May 7th. They're not promising to cap bankers' bonuses, they're not promising to invest in jobs and education, they're not promising to curb the movement of big business' profits to offshore accounts in order to avoid paying UK corporation tax - they're promising to continue the austerity path and attack benefits - because, as we all now know, people on benefits are scum, lazy and work-shy scroungers who live the high life at the taxpayer's expense.

The reality couldn't be further from the truth for the vast majority of benefits claimants - but they're all 'tarred with the same brush' these days. ATOS (who I've cynically renamed with the prefix "Couldn't Give") - one of the private companies tasked with assessing disability benefit claimants, and on whose board of directors probably sit a number of Tory ministers, has been known to assess as "fit for work" those close to death. The stories of their failings are widespread folklore across the internet - though, oddly, not in the mainstream press. Here's one REPORT from a few years ago.

I agree that the benefits system in Britain needed fixing, but fixing - not decimating!  There needed to be better policing of the system to weed out the minority of claimants who abuse it, rather than the 'one-size-fits-all' or 'all-claimants-are-scroungers' approach that the coalition adopted. And the fact that no mainstream political party seems to want to remedy this situation leaves me floundering when it comes to casting my vote in May.

Pregabalin (Lyrica)

I've been taking 600mg of Pregabalin every day for the past six weeks. 2 x 150mg tablets in the morning and two at night.

Initially they worked just fine - though I did notice that I suffered mild 'light-headedness'. But in the last two weeks at this dose the light-headedness has intensified to the point of swooning dizziness. It really feels like my head is about to lift off or I'm going to fall over - especially when turning my head any faster than a tortoise!

I've also noticed that I've developed tremors - in my hands, legs and shoulders.

The medication is prescribed for chronic neuropathic pain and can affect the central nervous system, so I was half expecting a mild form of these side effects, but these have now become troublesome - to the point of losing a shift at work - so I've decided to wean myself off them and go back to see the quack.

The tablets have helped with the pain a little - in the sense that they've probably numbed my brain to it!! (Which, I suppose, is what all pain relief does!!)

I hate messing around with medications, but until the doctor gets it right I suppose I'm going to have to be a human guinea pig for a while longer.

I wonder what side effects others have had on this medication?

How do you cope with the pain?

Yesterday was a good day. I made my 05.45am start at work and managed to complete all of the heavy lifting and carrying involved in my role. I finished work at 11.45am and drove home.

In the time it took for me to finish work and drive the one and a half miles home it seemed that every fibre in my body had dried out. I could barely find the energy to open the car door! The pain in my lower back had intensified to a hot burning poker and not one but both elbows screamed in agony when I tried to bend them.

My daughter Emily had a dentist appointment at 2pm so I had to ready myself for that. I made myself a sandwich and took some cocodamol, which didn't touch it, somehow got changed out of my uniform and dressed for the rest of the day, by which time we were due to leave.

Emily chatted happily in the car, though I could tell she was nervous about her appointment - she tends to chatter a lot when she's nervous - anyway, her talking took my mind off the pain for me a little, though every gear changed pulled at the base of my spine and increased the pain in my left elbow.

The dentists appointment went well - though Emily has overcrowding issues and needs to have some milk teeth removed at her next visit - and we drove straight home. I decided not to make Emily do her afternoon lesson (we homeschool) because she'd done well at the dentists (and probably because I was in too much pain!) So we spent the rest of the afternoon watching TV and chatting about this and that, and laughing a lot - we do a lot of laughing, Emily and me!

Lesley (my wife) came home at 5.30 and it was time for me to cook our evening meal (which, being from Yorkshire, we correctly call 'tea') I rustled up my speciality - fish fingers, mashed potato and peas which always goes down well in our house and then I washed the pots - "dream husband" is what my wife calls me!!

And in all of it the pain never left my body. It never subsided or abated, it stayed a steady 8 out of 10. Every movement hurt, talking hurt, eating hurt, swallowing hurt. In the evening we'd chatted about Pepper our cat who sadly died on Wednesday morning, and we'd got upset a little thinking about how frail she'd become from the bouncy young cat we first met in 1997 - even crying had hurt.

The whole day, since finishing work, had been one long tortuous torrent of moderate agony. So how did I function? How did I manage to do the things I did when I was in so much pain? What part of me allowed me to get on with the tasks that had to be done?

The simple answer is "I don't know." I hear it so much - the words "You just have to get on with it" I've heard myself uttering those words, but I have no idea how. I simply can't describe what it is that makes me move and function when all I really want to do is curl up and wait for the pain to stop. Perhaps it's knowing that the pain will never stop. Perhaps it's because I've grown used to it.

Can you describe your coping mechanism?