Using Self-Help to Recover from CFIDS
When I received the diagnosis of CFIDS in November, 1997, I had been sick for four months with a flu-like illness. During that period I gradually reduced my time at work to 15 hours a week, then stopped working entirely. Neither strategy reduced my symptoms. I functioned at about 25% of my pre-illness level. Today, four years later, I have returned to a nearly normal life. My improvement has been very gradual but steady, about one or two percent a month. I now rate myself at about 90% of my pre-CFIDS level and I am still improving. Before CFIDS, I had learned to ask myself two questions when facing a health problem:
After getting my diagnosis, I read everything I could find about CFIDS. I learned that the medical resources were quite limited; there was no medical cure for CFIDS and no standard treatment. It seemed that the best a medical approach had to offer was modest symptom improvement, probably requiring a long period of experimentation. On the other hand, it appeared that some people had success with a self-management approach. I was attracted to this option in part because of my professional experience before becoming ill. Based on my research and my prior experience, I decided to forego experimenting with medical treatments and instead utilize exclusively a self-help approach. I felt confident that I could find many things that would help me improve. I have not had a medical appointment for CFIDS since. I believe that all patients have resources that can help them cope with their illness. The resources vary from person to person. Looking back, I can see several assets I possessed. First, I was fortunate to have a moderate case of CFIDS. Though significantly limited by the illness, I believe I was somewhat better off than the average patient in the severity of my symptoms. Second, my life circumstances were favorable. As a person in his early 50's, I was old enough to have created a financial cushion for myself, so that I was not stressed by the financial pressures that many CFIDS patients face. Also, I received understanding and support from my family and closest friends. Third, my personality and disposition lent themselves to a self-help approach. I enjoy solitude, and have often used discipline and patience to achieve my goals. Lastly, I had a cancer in the 1970's that was treated successfully, so my life already included an experience of recovery from serious illness. For the first year or more that I was sick with CFIDS, I wondered whether I should make recovery my goal. Sometimes I thought I should, but that standard was hard to live with. The dilemma helped me to understand the distinction between those things I could control and those I couldn't. I finally concluded that whether I recovered was out of my hands, but that there were many things I could do to improve my quality of life. By suspending expectations about recovery, I could focus on what I could do to make my life better. I found inspiration in Dean Anderson's description of how he combined acceptance of being ill with hope for a better life. He described acceptance not as resignation, but rather "an acceptance of the reality of the illness and of the need to lead a different kind of life, perhaps for the rest of my life." I adopted his formulation as my own approach to CFIDS. Chronic illness is comprehensive in its effects, touching many aspects of our lives: how much we can do, our ability to work, our moods, our relationships, our finances, our hopes and dreams, our sense of who we are. In response, I used a variety of self-management strategies. Seven were particularly helpful. I was confident that making notes about my life would enable me to see patterns, to identify links between my actions and my symptoms. I experimented with a variety of logs, most requiring only a few minutes a day to fill out. I was greatly rewarded by the effort. Logging was also a good motivating tool. After noticing that some days were better than others, I focused on trying to find what I was doing that created good days so I could expand them. I also used my records to chart my progress over time. Perhaps the most dramatic use of logging was the two hours I spent at the end of 1998 trying to understand the relapses I had experienced that year. Reviewing my daily logs, I found eight instances in which my symptoms had been so intense that I had spent at least one day in bed. To give my body a chance to recover, I had to accept living within the limits imposed by the illness. I was helped by the concept of the Energy Envelope. This is the idea that people with CFIDS have less energy than when healthy and that they can improve their quality of life by staying within the limits of their available energy. For some time, I used this idea in a very general way. I would ask myself whether doing something would take me "outside the envelope" or whether I was living "inside the envelope." By reminding me of my limits, the concept of the Envelope helped me gain some control over symptoms. Then I asked myself what were my limits in different areas of my life. I wondered how much sleep I needed at night, how much daytime rest, how much time I could safely spend on the computer, how long could I stand at one time before triggering symptoms, how far could I walk. In my first several months with CFIDS, I was on a roller coaster. I rested when my symptoms were intense, then was overactive when the symptoms declined. Doing too much led to high symptoms again and the demoralizing cycle started over. The key was to live a life that was planned, with a similar amount of activity and rest every day. Having a consistent level of activity made sense, but I resisted the idea of scheduling rest every day. It was hard to accept the idea that I would lie down voluntarily regardless of how I felt. I decided to try it by having a fifteen minute rest every afternoon. I found that taking these "pre-emptive rests," as a friend called them, enabled me to reduce the time I spent in "recuperative rest" or resting to recover from overdoing. The result was that my total rest time was reduced. Looking back, I think the two daily rests were the most important technique I used to aid my recovery. I adopted the attitude that CFIDS had imposed severe and largely inflexible limits on me. To improve my quality of life, I had to find and adhere to those limits. I learned a lot through my experiments, especially my attempts to exercise. Early on I was able to do only a fraction of what I could before becoming ill, walking fifteen minutes to half an hour most days. I was finally able to expand my exercise in a significant way when I incorporated pre-emptive rests into my walks. I would walk for 20 minutes, then sit down for a similar time, then walk some more. Planned rests also enabled me to begin walking again in areas with uphill stretches. My progress was very slow. Often I extended the length of my walks by only one or two minutes every several weeks. Also, I backed off and I returned to my previous length if I experienced increased symptoms. But the discipline and patience paid off over time. Within weeks of receiving my diagnosis, I joined two local support groups. The experience was especially useful for the friends I made. Because I stopped working and dropped out of my volunteer commitments shortly after becoming ill, fellow patients became perhaps my most important community. I think that served me well. A few months after receiving my diagnosis, I started a self-help class for myself and other patients I had met. (Over time it has become the ME/CFS & Fibromyalgia Self-Help program.) I was surprised at how easily I was upset by stress. Even modest amounts of stress greatly intensified my symptoms, creating a feedback loop in which my symptoms and my response to them intensified one another. My first reaction was to try various strategies for stress reduction. The most helpful proved to be a regular relaxation/meditation practice, which I included in my daily rests. Relaxing my mind while relaxing my body had a dramatic effect on my anxiety level, thus reducing my tendency to over-produce adrenalin. Stress avoidance proved to be even more helpful. I learned that I could prevent stress by avoiding those things that caused it. The most useful strategy in that regard was routine: living my life as much as I could according to a plan. I also learned to identify stress triggers, those situations and even specific people that set off symptoms. I learned, for example, that I was vulnerable to sensory overload after observing how noisy situations quickly led to intense symptoms. I knew from my work at Stanford that strong emotions are normal reactions to having a chronic illness. Serious illness turns people's lives upside down, upsetting their hopes and goals, and creating frustration and uncertainty. I developed a number of strategies in response, all based on recognition that I was much more emotionally vulnerable than usual. Second, I observed that I had an exaggerated initial reaction to relapses, often seeing them as evidence I would never improve. So I learned to talk in reassuring tones to myself. I consoled myself by saying things like "you've always bounced back from other setbacks" or "remember how life looks better after you've rested." Third, I trained myself to mute my emotions after observing the toll that strong emotions took on me, whether positive or negative. It seemed that experiences that triggered the release of adrenalin led to an increase in symptoms. As a way to avoid symptoms, I tried to cultivate a Zen-like calmness and to construct a life that emphasized routine. My approach to CFIDS was very similar to Dean Anderson's. I began with an acceptance that my life had changed, perhaps forever and certainly for an extended period of time. My approach of using self-help exclusively was different from that taken by most patients. Under different circumstances, I might have combined a self-management approach with a medical one. |
||||||