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Tuesday 23rd July 2025

A cheerful cartoon sloth wearing sunglasses and a striped turquoise scarf, riding a pink and teal scooter against an ominous red background. The sloth appears relaxed and content, embodying the laid-back attitude that makes the text below wonderfully ironic: "Life Update: Surviving despite the horrors." The image playfully contrasts the sloth's carefree demeanour with the dramatic proclamation of merely surviving life's challenges.
@theaardvark

Can I now have letters after my name? Sha Taylor FND, FM, ME/CFS

Right then, I've finally earned some proper qualifications. Not the kind you get from university - the kind you get from your body staging a full-scale rebellion and medical professionals finally believing you're not making it up.

I've been absolutely shocking at keeping this blog updated. Paul's wrestling with his Long COVID like it's some sort of unwelcome dance partner, and between the two of us, we're moving through life like we're performing underwater ballet. Everything takes forever, but we're still moving.

Scene: The Neurologist's Office, Weekend Edition

Picture this: me, wheeled into yet another medical consultation room that smells of disinfectant and broken dreams. The usual routine begins - medical history bingo, trauma top trumps, symptom charades. I'm doing alright, keeping up with the questions, when suddenly my body decides to put on its own little performance.

Enter stage left: the shakes, the tremors, and my personal favourite party trick - words deciding to pack their bags and bugger off just when I need them most. Paul becomes my translator, my advocate, my human subtitle service. Without him, I'd just be a woman in a wheelchair making incomprehensible noises at a costly doctor.

The Official Decree

So, now, drum roll, please. I can officially add to my name: Sha Taylor FND, FM, ME/CFS. It's like collecting badges, but instead of scouts, it's chronic conditions. I'm qualified for a PhD in Being Poorly.

The whole collection now reads:

  • Functional Neurological Disorder (the rebellious nervous system)
  • Fibromyalgia (pain that moves around like it's house-hunting)
  • Myalgic Encephalomyelitis/Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (the energy vampire)
  • Migraines (including the special hemiplegic variety that steals my words)
  • Underactive thyroid (the sleepy butterfly gland)
  • Menopause

I'm like a walking medical textbook, except the walking bit's optional.

The Plot Twist

Here's the thing that's got me cautiously optimistic - having the ME/CFS diagnosis means there's actually a pathway forward. A proper medical team locally, working alongside my OT Mary (who's an absolute gem) and GP Dr W (who's seen me cry more than my own mother has).

You'd think another diagnosis would feel like another nail in the coffin, but it doesn't. It feels like someone's finally handed me a map when I've been wandering around lost in a medical maze for months.

The fatigue I live with - there aren't words adequate enough to describe it. It's not tired. It's not exhaustion. It's like someone's drained every battery in your body and then hidden the charger. But if there's even a chance we can wrestle some of it back, if I could dance again, walk without my wheels, do yoga without feeling like I'm made of broken glass...

Those are dreams worth having, even if they feel impossible right now.

Today's Truth

For now, these microscopic steps forward are enough. Paul and I, team chronic illness, are moving at the speed of determined snails but still moving nonetheless.

So there we have it - I'm officially overqualified in the art of being unwell, but underqualified in pretty much everything else.

Not quite the university experience I had planned, but the education's been thorough.

Sha x, Collector of Conditions, Wheeler of Dreams

#WheelyHappyDays #QualifiedInChronic #MECFSLife #TeamSlowMotion #StillMovingForward #WheelchairWisdom