14/05/2026
It’s hard to know for certain just how long I was unwell before I got the news that a gnarly bone spur in my spine was decompressing my spinal nerves and unfortunately, my spinal cords. Maybe 18 months? Maybe more. In that time I had been diagnosed with long covid, been assessed for sleep apnea and been prescribed countless pain medication that have (mostly) helped me to get through the day.
The thing is I was still trying to turn up, still trying to feel better and well when you’re a Mum with responsibilities, I didn’t have much choice but to keep going.
The keeping going part was the hardest, it was intertwined with grief at losing my Mum, post natal depression, loneliness and a real loss of self.
Photography became an enemy, I’d berate myself for not being able to do what I used to do and in the process gaslighted myself that I was fine. That I just needed to eat better, move more and start meditating again.
The truth was I was very nearly completely paralysed. I had said to my sister the week before my surgery that I felt disabled and that I was certain it was only going to get worse. Little did I know just how true that was.
Since the 8 March, when the gnarly bone spur was removed and I had a fusion fitted, I am further away from all of those feelings. Somehow the surgery and diagnosis legitimised how I was feeling. It’s crazy to think just how poorly I had gotten before I stuck to my guns, dug deep and advocated for myself.
This photo for me represents that. I am owning my illness, the medical help I need just now, my mobility challenges and pushing that little bit further every day, where I can.
It’s still a challenge, but a different challenge. I know to rest. To understand my limits and to believe, rather than blame, myself.
Recovery from surgery is gradually becoming finding my new norm managing pain and trying to figure out who this new iteration of myself is.
To all my chronic illness and chronic pain warriors, you’re my heroes.