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OK so my leg isn’t really pregnant and yes I am fully aware of this.  But I went, at my therapist’s request, to see my doctor yesterday and he advised me that I needed an ultrasound.  And what is the first thing you think of when you hear the word “ultrasound”  – yep pregnancy.  Hence the weird thought pattern.  But hey, sometimes you just have to see the funny side of things. 🙂

PreglegIn essence the situation is that my leg needs therapy but the level of therapy that I can receive is dictated by my heart conditions.

So the position is that I have to get an ultrasound on my leg in order to dictate exactly what level of compression – which is all part of the treatment – I am safely allowed to have.  And as the Doc advised me yesterday the ultrasound will also confirm the diagnosis of lymphedema and that it isn’t more cardiac related.

In the mean time – whilst I wait for the the ultrasound appointment to come through – he (my doctor) will be contacting the therapist and I should be able to at least start some sort of therapy.

So there is good news and not so good news on the whole leg issue.  I have to be honest and admit that patience is not one of the things that I am abundantly gifted with, nor am I very good and sitting still and keeping the leg elevated as ordered. Although I am trying to be good in this respect.

It seriously cuts into the amount of time I can spend at the computer and this in turn really eats into the amount of time I can blog or write.  And whilst laptops are fine, I just can’t seem to perch the laptop in such a position where I can write comfortably and have already tripped over the power cable on two previous attempts.  So in the interest of health and safety I tend to avoid the whole laptop on the lap idea.

Of course when you experience poor mental health, and especially a schizophrenic condition, the voices and internal dialogues seem to latch onto such things and twist and magnify them in your mind – presenting a cocktail of all sorts of potential negative outcomes and accusatory jeers as to how you brought all this on yourself as a result of your weight.

Which of course there is some truth to.  But then that is part of their trickery is it not?  Using some basic truths (so that they have some credibility and are difficult to fully discount or refute) and then twisting and corrupting them beyond reason or rational thought.

It is often hard, for folk who do not have voices, to understand the full impact of them on the life of those who do.  And I understand this, so in my blogs I try to demonstrate some of how these can impact us.

Actually, I am convinced that we all have  internal dialogues and that for some of us, those internal dialogues can be such a negative thing.  So imagine what they would be like if they were both a) constant and b) had an audible voice.  Add to that the often grandiose almost delusional thoughts and frequently harmful thoughts an suggestions that they offer and perhaps you will get a better understanding of what it can be like.

Thankfully however,  I am blessed with both a strong faith and an extremely logical mind.  So I can at least (but no not always) reason things out to some extent.

But my heart goes out to those who suffer far worse than I do with such voices and thoughts.  And my heart also goes out to the families and friends of those who suffer with schizophrenic conditions.  I know from my own relationships just how frustrating our condition can be for those who love us.

But I am convinced that there is hope and that has to be there core message of my post this morning.

Whist it is, to some extent, true that our loved ones cannot directly penetrate those negative and harmful voices.  They can influence them and they can impact them with; real, tangible, sensitive and constructive love.

I recognize the harmful and detrimental impacts and influences of both my voices and my internal dialogues and I praise God that I have both my faith and my logic in my armory and defenses.

But even more than this I thank the Lord for the wonderful family and church family that He has placed in my life and for the fact that God’s love knows no bounds.  Not even my mental illness.

Raging River1