
Those who know me will be aware that for many years I've been in huge amounts of pain and unable to walk. Now I've received a diagnosis and with it a vindication of my continued inability to function normally.
It seems I have
Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (I'll let you check it out if you're interested - there's nothing worse than someone bleating on about their ill health), a diagnosis I'd anticipated since
reading about it online some months ago.
I'd never previously heard of the condition and yet it apparently effects 1 in 1,000 people. In the end I had to see a consultant in Birmingham in order for it to be confirmed.
The problem stems from oversensitivity of the nervous system and the effects can be horrendous. My legs hurt so much that the weight of a sheet would make me scream in agony.
And if the syndrome had been spotted early I need not have had the surgical operations that it now transpires were completely unnecessary;
"A delay in diagnosis and/or treatment for this syndrome can result in severe physical and psychological problems. Early recognition and prompt treatment provide the greatest opportunity for recovery."
"If treatment is delayed... the limb, or limbs, can experience muscle atrophy, loss of use and functionally useless parameters that require amputation."
I spent three years unable to walk without a bucket load of analgesia, horribly depressed, barely able to think, eventually house-bound.
That was some six years ago. I overcame the pain and the agoraphobia because of my dogs. They became my reason and without them I would not be here today.
I'd force myself off my bed and made myself walk a little further each day.
Eventually I drove to a local airfield and walked along the perimeter, every day a little further then the day before.

If the dogs hadn't needed exercise I wouldn't have had the motivation to get moving - I'd have avoided the pain of mobilising and most likely have ended my life.
So you'll understand when within a week of receiving my own diagnosis the second of my dogs was found to be terminally ill, I was devastated.
The first dog had been put to sleep two years ago, and that was bad enough. The second had diabetes and went blind, developed Cushing's Disease and then the cancer.
And I miss him terribly.
Sometimes people pull you through and sometimes it's other things; when I had no option but to give up
my events business I was persuaded to begin
broadcasting on local radio. That gave me a weekly focus. The dog came with me to the studio, of course.
Over time the
music became a passion and with that passion I discovered I was truly living again.
I shall be ever grateful to my dogs for giving me reason to continue my life - all the times the doctors told me I was faking it, putting it on, being dramatic, imagining the pain - all those times I went back to my wonderful dogs and they sustained me. Without them I wouldn't be here.
And since I'm now having the time of my life, irrespective of my limited physical ability and the pain I experience on a daily basis, I thank God for my boys.
I rescued them and they rescued me right back.