3 minute read
It’s RAS
As a toddler whilst having my bedtime bath, with my favourite toy, a walrus named Wolfgang, I sat down directly on top of Wolfgang, and this sudden shock of pain caused my fi rst attack. Time went on and I had more attacks. The one I remember most being when I fell over at playgroup. While receiving medical attention I had another attack. My parents were literally going spare, until my mum noticed an article about another child with the same problems. Eventually, I was diagnosed with RAS. This was no huge surprise as my grandfather suffers from a similar thing. It’s been life changing for me. I had to wear a medic alert bracelet, in case I had an attack away from people who knew about my condition. As I’ve got older I have learnt to live with RAS, but when I was younger it seemed like such a burden. I wasn’t allowed to go to the park by myself, and I hated all the questions about why I had to wear ‘that bracelet’. When I was about 7 or 8 I appeared on the local news, in a story about my condition. As the camera man set up in my room, and fi lmed me reading a story book my annoyance at my condition blew out the window because I was so excited about being on television. My mum did all the important stuff, like being interviewed about dealing with the whole thing etc, until it was my turn. I talked to the reporter about how I wasn’t allowed to go to the park on my own, and she asked me about my hobbies. When it was shown on the television we taped it and took it to school, where my whole class watched it. This sparked
more questions, but I suppose as a child I was glad of the attention. Aren’t we all?
When I was about 10, the family moved to England, where I started a new school. Of course I got more questions about my condition, but didn’t mind so much as I was a bit older and knew how to handle them better. I just told people I had a ‘heart problem’, which seemed to work. It seems silly now, but to me the biggest problem I faced was the worry of having an attack in front of people, the sheer embarrassment of passing out and maybe fi tting in front of my friends horrifi ed me. Secondary school was daunting, as PE brought up a problem I wasn’t expecting. No jewellery is allowed during sports, but I couldn’t take mine off. I had to wear a sweat band over it. More questions. Later on, my head teacher asked me to write an article about living with my condition for the school newsletter. I accepted the offer, but worried what everyone would say. It turned out I was in the clear as none of my peers ever read the newsletters, but then my head teacher asked me to read out my article at a school assembly. No way! I have enough trouble reading aloud to a crowd, without it being about my personal life! Then, my next dilemma. One of my friends was having a birthday party at laser zone, and of course I wasn’t allowed to go in case the strobe lights caused me to have an attack. I have now found out, that strobe lighting has no effect on me. Since growing older, my attacks have become less frequent, the last one was mid 2001, when my GP stuck a needle into my septic toe. To my amazement, I didn’t pass out with the shock or pain. In reception making a follow up appointment, I felt dizzy, and the next thing I knew I was waking up on the surgery fl oor. I was sick. having fallen from standing and had hit my head quite hard. At home, I thought I was fi ne, but I wasn’t. I had repeated dizzy spells and blackouts, so my mum called an ambulance. The doctor
