This year has been difficult for many people, and personally, it’s been marred by a set of health problems, which truth-be-told I am still not at the bottom of.
It’s all a bit of a blur, really.
It all started on Christmas Eve 2023 when my father fell ill, and was hospitalised for a few months.
I had long working days, followed by hours-long visits to see him in the freezing evenings. I’m not brilliant with hospitals at the best of time, so seeing him in this state didn’t massively help.
This took its toll on me, with exhaustion and stress building up, but perhaps in a subtle way. I didn’t hit a brick wall and crash during the winter. But the tank was certainly running low.
It wasn’t until April and May, that at my desk, I started to feel something.
My vision was blurred.
I was struggling to concentrate for extended periods of time.
I had no idea what was happening, but at that point, I assumed I was just not getting enough sleep or not eating properly.
It would clear itself up.
In mid-June I went to a wedding. It was lovely, but I had a fair bit to drink; as one does.
I woke up with a splitting headache the next day, and no amount of water and paracetamol would make it go away.
I barely slept that evening because of the headache, and had to wake up early for work. I spent hours lying in bed worrying about having to sit at my desk in such a dysfunctional state, which ironically made it harder to sleep.
I somehow got to my office, and somehow worked through the day, despite barely being able to see in front of me, with a massive headache still, and tiredness hanging over me.
At about 4pm, I tried to go home, but the second I got into the underground station, I felt ill.
My heart started racing, my legs were shaking, I couldn’t stop fidgeting, and felt not only boiling hot, but nauseous and trapped.
I was in central London in rush hour; how on earth was I going to get home if I couldn’t even get on the tube?
I walked from Monument to London Bridge, then to Canon Street, tapping in and out a few times, as I tried to prepare myself to get on a train, unwell. I must have called and canceled about five Ubers also.
Eventually I got myself on the Tube, but had to get off at every stop and sit down; the commuters didn’t realise I was in such a state obviously.
Three hours after setting off, I eventually got home, and that night was even worse than the previous.
I don’t think I slept at all, with my heart going a million miles an hour, and my whole body shaking constantly.
I was too hot, and too cold. Starving but also unable to eat or drink. I had no idea what was happening to me, and this made it even harder to relax and settle myself.
It was mid-June, so it was hot in the evening, and during the day. I must have drifted off somehow, because I woke up in a daze. I got on the phone to the GP surgery, and must have rung about 10 times, without being able to get through.
I eventually managed to book a blood test, after talking myself round, as I have a long-standing fear of needles.
I forced myself to have this test, before returning to another night without sleep.
I got the results the following day and was told I had a bunch of vitamin deficiencies, probably caused in part by vegetarianism.
I took a few prescriptions and bought some supplements and then had six further injections.
Things gradually improved, but I certainly had the odd day when I felt bad in the months that followed.
I still felt a fuzziness, a dizziness almost constantly. At the end of June I had a similar episode, mixed with Covid, which meant I missed my cricket club’s 50th anniversary game also.
In September I had another wedding (I actually had two weddings in two days, which piled on a huge amount of stress for me) and had a similar experience to the first. I felt awful on my way home, and booked another trip to the GP.
I had to miss some time at work, as I simply couldn’t function. At my desk I would just feel like I am going to faint or collapse.
I booked myself another blood test, and this time they saw something unusual, asking me if I had ever been diagnosed with coeliac disease.
He explained that if I was coeliac, it might be preventing the absorption of vitamins from food, which can impact energy levels. It kind of made sense.
He also told me the issue could simply be stress, and referred me for Cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT).
I continued, taking a number of days off sick, because I was simply dysfunctional.
I didn’t try going gluten free yet, as I wasn’t sure if that was the issue.
But I was completely zonked by this concoction of tiredness and low energy.
It wasn't sleepy tiredness. It felt like I was running on fumes, that I’d been drained.
Basic tasks like getting up, or walking up the stairs, became chores.
I visited the GP one more time later in September, and he brought up the coeliac issue again, recommending I went on a gluten-free diet, to see if it made a difference.
(Wembley Park Medical Centre have been amazing throughout this by the way, including helping me get over my fear of needles)
Within a matter of weeks, I had improved massively.
I was no longer completely exhausted and tired, even though it was lingering somewhat.
I did this until I went on holiday to Marrakech in November. I tried some gluten for the first time in months, because I was away, and at first I felt fine.
I don’t know if it was the bread I ate, the weather, or anything else I ate, but I felt diabolical in the days to come.
I had the dizziness and fatigue once more, this time compounded by being in a foreign country.
I felt like everything was spinning, my head almost felt like it was underwater or something.
And every time I wanted to go and have something to eat, I was frozen by the possibility of eaten gluten, in case it was the ‘thing’ causing this debilitating physical symptoms.
I somehow made my way back home still feeling its effect, and in mid November, I was told I have a biopsy scheduled at the hospital, where they’d put a tube with a camera down my throat, to test me for coeliac.
The catch was, in order to get an accurate reading, one has to eat gluten.
At this stage I didn't know if I was coeliac or not, but the prospect of eating gluten - if I was coeliac - was worrying.
It meant being ill, deliberately eating something that made me dysfunctional, damaging my body.
It triggered the kind of stress that I’d been wrapped with earlier in the year, and recently on holiday too.
I have never felt my gut and my brain being so linked up, it was horrible.
A few weeks in to the so-called ‘gluten challenge’, as if it’s some kind of Tiktok trend, and I felt relatively OK.
But with about two weeks to go before the biopsy, I went to another wedding. I ate some gluten, as I had been in recent weeks. And took a turn.
I barely had anything to drink at this small wedding with just eight people, but couldn’t sleep.
After just a handful of hours of shuteye I had a formal lunch and a five-hour drive to contend with, while feeling dizzy and disorientated, nauseous and stressed.
Even after catching up on sleep, the dizziness continued for days after; and I was routinely working in a state which at another point in the year, I frankly would not have been able to.
Thankfully it’s quieter in the run-up to Christmas.
Six months after that first panic attack, I am still not entirely sure what is wrong with me.
I think I might be coeliac or gluten intolerant, but I can’t prove it until January when I get test results from this biopsy. I also think, I mean I know, I have problems regarding stress and anxiety.
But there isn’t much I can do about that, other than continue with CBT and try to follow the advice I am being given.
Hopefully 2025 gives some clarity, and I can find out what’s wrong with me, and how to manage it.
The only real reason I have written this is for personal and therapeutic reasons. It is good to get it off my chest.
I am certainly not looking for sympathy or advice, I am getting plenty of help, and have sought more.
If you've got this far though, thank you for reading.
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