Unforgotten at last

Living in the land of the forgotten, brings a huge number of problems, that most wouldn’t even ever think about. The problems really start with the fact the most don’t even think about the possibility of being housebound, far less the issues that it might cause in everyday life. Two of those problems once again came to mind the other day and I decided to once more try to find solutions for both.

The average person visits their dentist at least once every six months, but when there is no way of getting to your dentist what do you do. I have been asking that question now for 10 years. About two years ago, I found myself at the dentil hospital thanks to an appointment made for me by my doctor due to a canker that refused to heal. Adam and I were sat there once more waiting for an ambulance to take us home and found ourselves discussing this very issue with a dental surgeon. He too had never given it any thought, but knew as well as I did, that there was no way of my seeing a dentist just for a check up, or to do any sort of work like dealing with a broken tooth. The NHS only supply ambulances if you are attending a hospital appointment. Everyday dental care, doesn’t require a hospital attendance and the dental hospital isn’t there for that type of care. Those of us who are housebound, have been totally forgotten about, there is no dental care for us at all.

I have now for about last 4 or 5 years been living with three broken teeth, one of which, caught the side of my tongue and reminded me it was still there, sharp and annoying. It wasn’t too bad, but it made me think once again about the position that I was in and I decided to have a chat with the district nurse, to find out just what would happen, if I were to have a raging toothache that needed attention. To my total surprise and delight, there now is a dental service for the housebound, in fact, several surgeries have begun democidal appointments in the last year or so. Off hand, she couldn’t give me a number to call, but she phoned me later that afternoon with the phone number for two such services. I am delighted to say that on Thursday afternoon, I have a dentist coming to my house to start taking care of my teeth for free and supplying me, with the same service as anyone else would get, who isn’t housebound. I don’t know exactly what or how this will all happen but I am so glad that there is now someone out there who has remembered that we the housebound exist. Why it has taken so long, I quite honestly don’t know. Other than the fact that the equipment required being adapted for home use may have taken them a little thought, something that is all too often the biggest issue with most things in life. People don’t like having to think, it’s just too much like hard work.

Once I had made the appointment, I started to think about how I have gone so long without any pain from my teeth. Other than the occasional spot of sensitivity, and the odd piece falling off a tooth here and there, I can’t remember any of them being a real problem of any sort. I am sure that the reason I haven’t felt any pain has been due to the huge amount of painkillers that I now live on. Morphine doesn’t just go to where my MS is doing its worst, it must be covering up other pain all the time. I quite honestly don’t see any other reason why I have got through an entire decade without a real toothache. I am sure that I will be seeing quite a lot of this dentist over the next few weeks as I am sure that he will find more work to do other than the three I know about. I will bring you up to date with the details when I next write.

The other issue is something that Adam has been going on about to me now for a couple of years, he keeps telling me that I am going deaf. It’s not just that I keep asking him to repeat things, but the volume of the TV frequently drives him nuts, he sighs every time I turn it up, so he sighs a lot. I too am aware that I have taken over hogging the remote, not so that I can choose the programs, but it’s the only way that I can be sure that I will actually hear what is going on. I know that there are loads of companies out there who will come to your home and test your hearing, but they also come ready with the hard sell for their overpriced devices. I don’t mind paying for what I need, but I first need to be sure it is really what I need and not just giving someone an inflated commission. I am quite sure that if I asked my doctor to send me for a hearing test courtesy of the NHS, he would do it, but that means another trip to the hospital and I really want to avoid that if at all possible. The district nurse didn’t have an answer on hand, but when she left, I decided to do some more research online. I was delighted to come across a link to a charity called “Action on Hearing Loss”, they supply a quick and simple test over the phone. For those in the UK all you have to do is dial 0844 800 3838, which is charged at the same rate as a local call and take the test.

The test takes about 3 minutes, you have to listen to them saying various lists of three numbers, with a lot of white noise over it. Then you type in the numbers in that you think you hear on your keypad. Apparently, they agree with Adam, I do have a hearing issue, because of which, they are sending me out a written breakdown of my results for me to pass on to my doctor. To get a free aid I will have to through the NHS and if that means a hospital appointment, well so be it, I at least will know it won’t be a waste of our time going there for nothing.

 

Please read my blog from 2 years ago today – 12/01/2015 – Bracing against action

Those of you in the UK may have like me watched the Voice on Saturday evening, at one point I found myself paying rather close attention to Tom Jones as there was something about him that stood out to me like a sore…..

NHS cruelty

I discovered the other day the ultimate lie, the NHS doesn’t care for the sick, they care for themselves. We are all told from childhood on, that no matter what is wrong with you, the NHS will care for us. If we are really ill, they cure us, if we’re disabled, they will supply us with the equipment that we need to make our lives possible. It may not always be pleasant to the eye, but they do supply it, no matter what. Well, it might not be all a lie, but trust me, a large part of it is. I’ve know for years that they can’t always cure us, bu the next step, surely they can’t get that one wrong.

Last Thursday, Adam took the day off work to accompany me to the hospital, my long awaited appointment to go to Westmark to get an electric wheelchair, had arrived. This isn’t the first time that I have asked for an electric chair, I have, in fact, asked before and at that time, I was turned down. The first time, was years ago, I was still working and I was finding the fatigue from using my manual chair in the office, was just too much for me. I was the Operations Manager for a company who sold distance learning to the public. In the world of that time, that meant a call center, and trust me if you have never been in one, they are always huge and always not designed for those who can’t walk. I was turned down on the basis that because there was more than just one step, from street level to our flat, we couldn’t get into our home to charge it. I explained that the chair would be kept at my work, where there was a lift, and as I had 24/7 access, I could pick it up whenever needed outside. In reality, I actually spent more time in a week at the office, than I spent anywhere else, but they didn’t see it as my home, so it was a no.

My life now is clearly totally different. This is now my 10th year of being housebound and I have now been using my chair all the time in the house for nearly a year. Those who have been reading my blog for a while, will know that my chair has been causing me huge problems. My grip has slowly been diminishing and the pain in my arms has been off the scale. That along with the fatigue has meant that Adam, has been pushing me around whenever he has been at home. My chair was actually causing me almost as many problems, as it has cured. Despite the fact I had been turned down before, the District nurse agreed that I should apply again as there was no comparison between now and my first application. So we did, and we waited for the appointment.

When it arrived, Adam phoned them as they wanted me to go to Westmark, rather than them coming here. It made no sense to us as without seeing our home, how could they know what chair would be suitable. We live in a Victorian flat and there are so many tight twists I have to negotiate, that without being here, getting the right chair would be hard. He told them about my condition and how difficult it is for me to go anywhere and what the impact of going out, has on me. They said we still had to go to them, so they can see what sort of controls I would find easiest to use. It kind of made sense, so we gave in and booked an ambulance to take us to what used to be called the Southern General Hospital. I say used to, as they just built a huge new hospital on the grounds and renamed the whole place, the Queen Elizabeth.

When the ambulance arrived, the attendants asked why I was going to Westmark, when we told them, they instantly told us, that because we lived in a flat, we wouldn’t get an electric chair. No one ever did. We still wanted to try. I knew that the attendants had been there loads of times, with loads of different people, with different conditions, but we had to at least try. There was a kind of heavy silence all the way there and even when they fetched a chair for me and handed me over to Adam, they said nothing, not even “Good luck”.

After about a half hours wait, we were eventually called through. The woman who saw us was really nice but within minutes, we heard that word, “No”. Both Adam and I wanted a true answer to why and what was going on that the NHS was leaving me unable to get around my home, something that in time, would mean I would need a full-time carer, just to be able to live, feed myself, go to the loo, all the things we all do throughout a day. The ultimate truth is as follows. Because an electric wheelchair weighs 14 stone or more, it can’t be lifted up all the stairs to our flat by one person, in particular, the person who was sat there talking to us. It would break all the health and safety rules. Even when we offered to have a group of people here to carry the chair up to our flat the answer was still no. The rules are set in concrete, a member of NHS staff must on their own be able to deliver the chair to the patient’s home, so that they can go through how to use it and so on. If they can’t, then no one else can either. The patient’s needs and health are of no importance what so ever.

We then asked why we had had to come to the hospital to be told this. After all, it would only take the person sending out appointments, to look at the address to know that we might not live in suitable accommodation. In Scotland, we use a numbering system that makes it totally clear it’s a flat. Ours is 2/2, translating as “second floor right”. Glasgow if filled with Victorian Tenement blocks, so the odds are there won’t be a lift. Clearly, to those who don’t know the area, we might have, but a simple phone call would have answered that question. On top of that, when Adam spoke to them, he had told them about the stairs. Still no one managed to use their brains, and simply say at that point there was no point in us making the journey, as the answer would be “No”. Therefore, saving both our time and freeing up more time for those who are suitable. The whole system stinks, including the rather smug ambulance attendants who took us home again.

So the NHS has left me stranded, we had to come up with a solution on our own. As soon as we were back here, both of us launched onto the web, to see if we could find an answer. I already knew that electric wheelchairs are expensive, but we had to look. What we found initially confirmed that. They seem to start at about £1400, and rise from there up to £26000, which put all of them out of our range. The hospital had suggested that we turned to the MS Society for help, but that just didn’t sit well with me, surely we could find a suitable chair, at a price we could pay. Our searching brought up one of the huge chemist chains in the UK who sell both new and second-hand chairs at a reasonable price. We found a chair that fitted perfectly, it was second hand, but it had a years warranty, and once we took off the 40% VAT, something the disabled don’t have to pay on aids, it came in at just £606. It was a stretch, but the chair looked great and we could just afford it, I clicked the buy button and it was mine.

This, though, isn’t the end of the story. I will tell you the rest tomorrow.

 

Please read my blog from 2 years ago today – 26/11/2014 – Naive

One of the things that goes hand in hand with living with most chronic illnesses is they are totally unpredictable, one day or even hour can be totally different from the last. This one annoying fact I think is responsible for our lose of friends early on in our illness, before all the other reasons they disappear

Winter joy

It’s strange the things you find to fill your days, the things you find yourself not just doing, but thinking about. Despite the fact that they say that those with MS, have huge issues with heat, I personally, also have huge issues with the cold. For some reason, this winter seems to be hitting me badly, which with a limited budget, means I find myself sitting freezing and too worried about the bills, to do anything about it. It’s rare for it to be this cold so early in the winter, we actually had our first snow the other night, something we don’t normally see before the middle of January. I know for a fact that the sudden change will be without a doubt making me feel it more accurately, but I am laired up with clothes and huddled under my sleeping bag all day long, and still freezing. At the moment, I am wearing my underwear, two pairs of socks, my trousers, a top, three thin cardigans, as thin layers are supposed to be better than thick, the sleeping bag open (safer for standing then having it zipped up) but scrunched into folds around my legs and feet and I am still cold. I don’t know why, but despite sitting in a draft free area, it is my back and my legs that are always the coldest. I have found myself reluctantly turning on the fire in the living room but counting the minutes in fear of the bills, then turning it off again within the hour, still feeling almost as cold as I was before I lit it. I know there has to be an answer, so I set too, thinking about what was needed and how to go about it.

We don’t have central heating, at least not in the way most people think of it. Ours is slightly odd to most but until this year, has been more than ample. We have one storage heater that is in the hallway and if you leave all the doors open, for normal people, it is more than sufficient to heat the entire house. I don’t have a thermometer any longer, but I used to check it closely and we normally have a temperature of 62 degrees throughout, of course, that bit higher in the hall. Over the last few years, we have improved and improved the insulation levels where ever possible and plugged every possible draft, so it should actually be warmer now than it was back then, it’s just I don’t feel it that way. Without a doubt, the worse my mobility has become, the colder I am finding each winter, so now that I hardly move at all, well-being cold isn’t really a surprise. Unfortunately, knowledge doesn’t keep you warm, but I am hopeful that having an active brain, just might.

Clearly, the problem is the fact that we have just one heat sources and that that heat source isn’t mobile. The problem was clear, I had to find a way of moving that heat to where I am sat here behind my desk. I built my desk many years ago, well built, makes it sound as though I started from scratch I didn’t, what I did was far more an alteration of purpose. I had two tables that were the perfect height to work at, both had a shelf half way down, so I removed one and placed them together in an “L” shape. Then I made a new top from pine for them that joined to two together in a way that means they can’t come apart. I then also out of pine, boxed them in along the longest side and what would be the top of the “L”, created a small shelf at the top of the “L” on the inside and waxed the entire thing to make it match the pine throughout the house. My desk along with some bookshelves sits within an alcove at the back of our living room that is raised by about 8 inches, above the rest of the room, forming a workspace that is still part of the room, but separate in feeling. So there is my problem, how to heat this area and keep the heat here, despite the fact that ceiling is 15 feet above me, and there isn’t a wall to stop the heat leaving.

The answer is actually very simple and almost free. So far I have spent only £11 and I’m hopeful I will be wonderfully warm in the very near future. I have bought one of those space blankets, not to wear, but to line the inside of the box-shaped by my desk and the wall and within which I sit. This once stapled in place, will stop as much heat as possible from escaping, they claim to capture 70% of the heat, so hears hoping that is correct. Next, I have bought a large metal tin/box, which will hold a couple of bricks and some sand to fill any gaps. I already own one of those food warmers you might have seen in restaurants which have a couple of tea light candles placed within to keep the food warm. I intend to place the tin and it’s contents on top of the storage heater at night so that it pick up and stores any escaping heat. During the day, I am going to light the tea lights and place them, with the tin on top, on the shelf under the base leg of “L” shaped desk, the candles will help to add more heat, while it radiates its stored heat, into my isolated area. Voila, free heat for the rest of the winter.

I haven’t stopped there, as once I thought of that one, I also came up with a way of getting hot food on the two days that I don’t have help to cook my lunch. I know we don’t think of storage heater as giving out enough food to cook, but they do give out enough to warm. Yesterday, I warmed up to eating temperature a sachet of lentils and salmon and a tin of soup, both safely and to a temperature that made me feel good inside. It doesn’t take much work, just putting a dish with the closed sachet inside, a mug and the tin all on top of the heater, with a hood of tin foil to trap even more heat. After an hour, I shook the tin to mix the heat through, and an hour later, carried it all still sealed and safely on my lap to my desk, where I served up and ate my lunch. As it gets nowhere near boiling there is no danger of the can bursting, but it’s hot enough to be both pleasant and warming. Both the cooker and the microwave are dangerous for me to use these days, not to mention the danger of carrying hot food around the house, and on top of all of that, this is free.

Yes, I am feeling somewhat smug about my ideas, as you get so used to feeling totally useless, that coming up with something that is easy to do and so practical, has been a personal boost. It also proves that despite being a physical wreck and outwardly a gibbering idiot, my brain is still active within its stupid shell. I’m still trying to work out what there is about all of it that Adam doesn’t like, as any time I have mentioned what I am doing, he is distinctly silent about it, in a way that says he doesn’t like it. When I ask him, he still says nothing but hasn’t shown approval towards any of it, in any way what so ever. I’m just hopeful that once I find some warmth again, I will stop hiding in my bed and will feel just that bit more able to do things again. Being this cold has the effect of making me want to stay silent, still and even preferably asleep.

 

Please read my blog from 2 years ago today – 12/11/2014 – Frustration

I know it is totally my own fault and climbing onto my stool and the the worktop, were clearly something I shouldn’t have done on Monday, but my body is really making me pay for it. I don’t know why I was so determined to fix those stupid curtains, it’s not like it hadn’t already waited several months to be fixed, but I was just seeing red and was determined that one from the list of small……

As our minds vanish

Today, my mind is the clearest it has been in days. Fighting brain fog doesn’t work, any more than trying to clear a path through its namesake in weather does. The biggest difference between the two is that your eyes see fog with clarity, but you don’t always notice fog slowly filling your brain, in fact, on many occasions, it hasn’t been until it starts to clear, that I have truthfully seen it for what it was. Brain fog is incidence. It creeps into each crevice and slowly it fills them, flowing quietly into every part, while you, well, you slowly get more and more confused. Life gradually becomes misplaced, while you’re fighting madly to make sense of it. Years ago, I would see it almost instantly, but as I have generally become confused, seeing fog creeping in on top of it, has been harder and harder to distinguish. How do you tell the difference between normal madness and the madness that fog brings?

On a normal day, I can have problems just stringing two words together. I stutter and stammer as I desperately grope for the word that seconds before was on the tip of my tongue, but now that I actually want to use it, it’s gone. On a good day, I eventually find it, on a foggy one, I don’t stand a chance. You grope your way around, trying to clear a path but you can’t, as the second you sweep away an inch, ten pile in behind, obscuring everything, often even your voice. Even things that are there right in front of you, can become nameless objects. Objects that you know, but can’t describe or name. They are just that thingymajig, the oojamaflip that you use to you know, do that thingy with. Yet still, you can do that thingy without thought or difficulty, unless you actually think about it. The connections are there, but they’re fuzzy and feel flawed. Slowly you trust nothing, not even yourself, to be where it once was.

Fog has become a resident feature of my life. The clarity that I feel at the moment, is fleeting and glorious when it arrives. It is like a bright light, it lets me make sense of everything, for a short time, before the fog slowly once more shrouds it all. Fog used to be an occasional visitor. The odd day here and there, annoyingly making life tough, before normality returns. Now the balance has changed. I still call that clarity normality, but it isn’t, it’s now the visitor, the friend that drops by from time to time, to remind me what life should be like. If I am lucky, it stays for a few days, but that hasn’t happened for a while. I keep hoping that it will stay, but it’s slowly eclipsed in hours, not days. Tiredness seems to be the trigger, the door that once open allows the fog to return, and I’m slowly swallowed, consumed and eventually, once more gone.

Things changed a few months ago, exactly when, I can’t say any more than I notice its arrival. There must have been a day when the balance changed, but I don’t remember when it was. I now spend more time drenched in the mist than I do out in the light. I know in the last few months I have spoken often of my memory laps, and how they are getting worse. When you’re encased in fog, you don’t only forget what you once knew, you can’t remember what’s new. You might be there in that moment, but you see it as being somewhere else, caught in a half world, like the one between wakefulness and sleep. In that state you can’t make yourself move, well, just like that, you can’t make yourself remember either. Memory can’t be forced, it either is, or it isn’t, no half world, no options, just as it is, wrapped in a fog that swirls and changes outside of your control. Some things get through, others are misplaced, some are just fractured, but all are still there, it’s just accessing them that is hard.

Living inside a cloud means that the outside world is muffled. A bit like wrapping a pillow around your head, but you can see, hear and interact. That cloud pulls you inwards until you live inside yourself, rather than out there. unless something yanks you out to where others are. More and more you live inside your head, talking silently to yourself, cut off from conversation, from the pictures and sounds that the TV makes, isolated but still for now, still part of it all. Your ability to do more than one thing at one time diminishes. You have to use all your abilities to stay in connection with one thing at a time. That conversation, the one that others are trying to have with you, only gets through if you let it. You can’t talk and follow the TV at the same time, nor can you think while someone talks, everything has to be done in turn, not all at once.

At times even awareness slides inside and all you hear is yourself. Unlike other symptoms, there are no crutches, no wheels, no tablet, nothing that can make a form of reality others would understand, or be able to relate with. Fog is isolating, but it’s also strangely comforting. The longer you live inside it, the more you accept that there is you home, the place where you should be. I fear that slowly my need to interact will vanish, that I will find less and less need to be anywhere else, other than inside my head. I often wonder if what I am going through, might be just like the beginning of dementia or Parkinson’s. I don’t think I have either, let me make that one clear, I just wonder if brain fog, hold a similarity to other conditions, that affect the brain. If somehow, we have the eyes into their worlds.

I know that slowly this fog will take over, even more, I’ve seen it and I’ve read about it from others. Just as my body is slowly failing, so is my mind and for now, just like my body, I can see it. What happens when we can’t?

 

Please read my blog from 2 years ago today – 10/10/2014 – Pushing the boundaries

Yesterday just sort of happened, right through until I went for my nap absolutely nothing of interest or note happened, it was just a day, as I said until I went for my nap. Lying down seems to trigger so many things, but I already had my diaphragm creating pressure all around my lower ribs, so I wasn’t that surprised that the strange sensation of having a ball shoved inside my ribcage, whilst…..

Now I feel

I realised a couple of months ago that I was no longer able to react logically to anything when it happened, for some reason, I have developed more than delayed reactions, it’s as though my reactions to anything and everything that really matters, is almost at a standstill. Two weeks ago, I wrote a post that was far more a case of writing about something that happened, than something that had feeling behind it. There was really no true feeling there towards something that most people would be scared of, but all I felt was nothing more than curiosity. Looking back, from the very first time I found things happening to me at night that I couldn’t explain, I should have been scared by what was happening to me, but I wasn’t. At the worst, I was a little unnerved, but now, at last, my true feelings have shown themselves, and they did so thanks to another bizarre episode, and my favorite district nurse arrived to give me my enema this morning.

For those who don’t have a clue what I am talking about, I will fill you in briefly. About four weeks ago, I found myself for the first time waking at night sitting on the edge of my bed, without knowing how I got there, and unable to wake up. My head drops forwards and the snap will wake me, just long enough to lift my head up and then I’m gone again. I can go through that up to five or six times until I can actually stay awake. Due to the fact, I started wetting the bed a couple of months ago, any time that I wake at night, I get up and go to the loo. This whole palaver can happen up to four times on any one night and at its worst, 4 or 5 times a week. Then two weeks ago, the oddity that made me write my post happened. I had gone for a cigarette after I had been to the loo, one second I was sitting between puffs, the next, it was three hours later. I was doubled up in my wheelchair and the pain in my back was unbearable, I also felt incredibly sick. It was odd, very odd but I put it down as just one of those nutty things that happen.

As I said, delayed reactions, as anyone with normal reactions would have started worrying just because they kept waking up sitting on the edge of their bed, unable to wake up. I didn’t react at all, in fact, it wasn’t until the third night of it happening that I even mentioned it to Adam, and I did so just in passing. When I feel asleep in the kitchen, well I told him the next day, but again, I wasn’t concerned, as I said, it was an oddity, all I wanted was an answer and there didn’t appear to be one. Several people left comments with suggestions on my post, but the person who was or had gone through the same wasn’t there.

In the early hours of Sunday, once again I was sat on the edge of my bed, and once again, I went to the loo, but I didn’t leave the bathroom under my own power. No, I didn’t fall asleep sat on the loo, that wouldn’t have made me worried, that would have been explainable, well sort of, what happened was far stranger. I can remember going to the loo, even taking care to ensure my incontinence pad was correctly placed and that my dressing gown was tightly around me before I sat back in my wheelchair. I had negotiated the awkward twist in the bathroom, and there was just one push to take before I would be able to open the door. That was where I went to sleep. In mid-action, I went to sleep. Adam had heard me going into the bathroom as he was still up watching TV, he came through to see if I was OK after 15 minutes. The first thing I remember was when him talking to me, and the warmth of his hand on my shoulder, the bathroom was freezing. I had to fight to bring myself to a level of being able to talk to him and even then, I know I was totally confused and not with it at all. Adam was the person to bring me out of the bathroom.

On Sunday, well, of course, Adam and I talked about it, but what could we say, and I still wasn’t reacting, I was still just confused about the whole thing. No fear, something that would have been completely logical, there was nothing. Somewhere though in the back of my mind, I think it was beginning, because there was this notion that maybe, just maybe, I should speak to my doctor. When the nurse arrived this morning, I was so pleased to see that it was the nurse who had been the first one to come out to see me. I blurted out the whole thing, and as I did, the fear appeared and the feeling of tears that I was determined not to let out, as if I did, well, I don’t think I could have stopped them. The reaction, the feelings that should have been there all along, suddenly appeared. I told her things that I didn’t think I had thought about. The fact that I am scared of what might happen if I fell asleep when standing, or transferring to and from my wheelchair. The possibility that I might lean too far forward when asleep and that I could fall out of my chair or off the edge of my bed. The chance that I might actually start falling asleep during the day, and the dangers that could put me in, as I’m alone. The probability that I could find myself actually needing the panic alarm we had fitted. I even blurted out a theory that I haven’t the slightest idea where it came from, that I might have a lesion growing near my sleep center. Between us, I decided to phone the doctor.

Talking to the doctor, had exactly the same effect. He didn’t have a clue what was happening, but he did talk me into going to see my neuro, someone I gave up seeing seven years ago. I’d had enough of being smiled at and told to come back in a year. I’m scared. Not just by what is happening, but by what might happen, and the implications it could have on my life. My mind has been racing since I broke through to my feelings and my overactive brain that has been searching for answers and possibilities. I’m even wondering if this could be the answer to why my memory has suddenly become so bad, could I be blanking out, and therefore not remembering what has been said, or what I have or haven’t been doing. Is that possible? Or am I thinking too much and just suddenly desperate for answers. Well, I could have weeks to wait until I get to see the neuro’s. I guess I have a lot of time to theorise, think and now actually feel.

 

Please read my blog from 2 years ago today – 04/10/2014 – Posture failure

Throughout yesterday I spent some time, in between everything else to do a little research on Google, I honestly wish I had a medical degree and didn’t find medical reports so boring, but they are always the best place to find out the truth. I generally give all the patient sites a body swerve as they are all sugar coated and written in a fashion supposed not to worry people, in other words….