I got the flu twelve years ago and didn't recover.

It was another hectic day. I had clients booked back-to-back all day, but I loved my job and enjoyed being busy. I was a therapist and manager of a support centre and found it extremely rewarding.

I had two teenagers, and there were never enough hours in the day, but I still managed to fit in the gym, crazy nights out with the girls and loved nothing more than unwinding at the weekend with a ten-mile hike.

I ate healthily, mainly a plant-based diet, I didn’t drink, and I meditated daily. I had always looked after myself. Life had its ups and downs as life does, but I was doing pretty well.

It was on a Tuesday when I first noticed a sniffle. I thought I’d picked up a cold or something and thought no more of it. The following week, I felt awful. I assumed it was the flu and rang in sick. I took to my bed for a few days, thinking it would pass with rest and fluids, as it had in the past. After two weeks and still feeling dreadful, I visited my G.P, who said it sounded like I had two flu viruses simultaneously and I just needed to rest and ride it out.

Another week passed, and thankfully, the cough, runny nose, and headaches started to dissipate. I still felt utterly exhausted and drained but decided to return to work. I remember getting up that morning, and the room was spinning. I still had a heavy feeling all over, almost like my body had turned into concrete. I felt sluggish, my brain foggy and disorganised, and my limbs tingled with pins and needles.

I struggled at work for almost a week, falling into bed as soon as I got home, praying that I would feel better tomorrow. But when tomorrow came, I still felt that crushing heaviness as I got ready for work. I had chest pains, couldn’t get my breath and I felt unsteady. I asked myself over and over again, Why am I not getting better?

I got to work early that morning, and I was talking to a colleague when I started to feel dizzy and lightheaded. My heart was racing, and I could hear a loud ringing in my ears. I felt an awful rush of nausea and then everything went black.

The next thing I knew, I was on the floor with a paramedic standing over me. Apparently, I had passed out because my blood pressure was extremely low. I was sent home and advised to make an appointment to see my G.P.  

I did nothing but sleep for the next few days, but no matter how much I slept, I still felt exhausted. Days passed, and I woke with that same heavy feeling, and I started to wonder if I was ever going to recover. I just couldn’t understand what was happening to me. I struggled to get out of bed; my legs felt shaky and weak. I gripped the furniture to guide myself to the bathroom. The room started to spin, and once again I collapsed.

I made another appointment to see the GP and explained what was happening, and she arranged for me to have blood work done. I had always had an iron deficiency, so I thought it may be that. I was later put on iron tablets and vitamins, but nothing improved.

By this time, work was asking when I was going back. Friends were asking why they hadn’t heard from me, and my partner was growing increasingly worried. This just wasn’t like me.

Another fortnight passed, and as I swam up from sleep, I was met with that same heavy feeling. My stomach churned with fear. I’m still sick.

The fatigue was crushing; my whole body was in pain. I had excruciating migraines, couldn’t eat, and when I did, I was in agony with stomach cramps. My heart would pound in my chest as I struggled to breathe. I was still dizzy, lightheaded, nauseous, oversensitive to lights, sounds, smells. My skin winced with the touch of even the softest fabric. My mental health dipped to an all-time low as I struggled with how to get through one more day like this.

Another appointment with the G.P and this time she diagnosed me with ME/CFS. My body just couldn’t recover from the virus. I had suffered a similar experience as a teenager. I had Glandular Fever and was out of school for weeks, but I eventually fully recovered. This time, my body couldn’t seem to fight it.

There wasn’t a cure, there wasn’t any medication, and there wasn’t any further help. I was on my own with this debilitating illness. I felt utter despair.

That was twelve years ago, and sadly, nothing has changed. I still haven’t recovered. I didn’t get back to my career, I didn’t go back to the gym, and I haven’t seen my friends for over ten years. I haven’t received any help from the NHS. And what makes it worse is how society treats people like me.

I keep hearing the same comments about people with ME/CFS. We’re lazy, pathetic, weak. We’re lucky to stay home all day. We’re drug-seeking or attention-seeking and nothing but benefit scroungers.

So, on top of everything, I feel all of those things too.

Apart from my partner, I haven’t felt an ounce of compassion. I feel lost and alone, scared and vulnerable. I grieve for the person I used to be.

The government has just announced that the Sequence ME project has received £4.75 million in research funding. However, it took a world pandemic and a further 17 million people to get sick with long COVID to realise the severity of ME/CFS. It’s great that it’s finally happening, but it’s a shame for all the people like me who were never believed.

I can only hope that, in time, there is more understanding, and more than anything, a cure. So many people have been lost from society with ME/CFS, and something must be done. – We are the millions missing.

I’m lucky that I have found happiness in my writing. I can only manage a couple of hours here and there, but I have to keep moving forward, no matter how slowly.

That’s why winning the Fresh Ink Commission by Middle Child Theatre means everything to me because I’m still here and I achieved that!Fresh Ink 2026