I’ve been struggling. Not really with low mood, but with sheer exhaustion and nausea. I went back to the doctor about 4 weeks ago to say that I wasn’t coping – that I was having more bad days than good days and that I could sleep round the clock. My GP stomped about her surgery in a huffy puff and told me that we all have bad days; we just have to learn to live with them. She also told me that I’d have to start coming off the pills I was prescribed twelve months ago.
None of this was making any sense. Not only have I to continue feeling dreadful, but I have to stop taking the one piece of medication that has made me feel better…? Did I challenge any of this at the time? No. I skulked out of the room feeling like a fraud and a time-waster.
Enter my sister-in-law who is also a GP, albeit on the other side of the world. One phone call and several questions later, I promised to go back to another doctor in the practice and ask for my blood to be tested.
It turns out that I have a low iron count (6.1 if that means anything to you). Now I’m on lots of iron tablets and orange juice for the next three months. I’ll keep you posted.
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