Amsterdam – Coldplay

For this blog I’m going back to an old format of titling it after a song that represents how I am feeling as I think it’s probably the best way to explain the last few months. I’ve been quiet on social media over the last few months as I’ve been trying to come to terms with my physical and mental health. It has been the most testing time of my life, and for some of it I didn’t know if my story was going to continue. So, before I go on, I want to thank those that have been there to support me as I come to terms with what is my new ‘norm’. Firstly, my wife and sons. Without whom I know I would not be here without. You are my everything and I will do my upmost to make sure that you understand that every day. Secondly the welfare support team at RAF Lossiemouth. I have worked with you since moving up here and took for granted what you, we, do before I needed it. Thirdly to the select few friends I have been able to confide in. You have been able to make me laugh when I didn’t think I could. Lastly, my counsellor who has been able to crack me open and made me realise my worth. Thank you all. Now time to explain what has been going on.

When people talk about loss its generally because of the loss of loved one. Family member, friend, pet, etc. Not many people talk about losing themselves. Their identity. Who they are. Looking back, as I have been doing, I had lost who I was. Over the years since I injure my back I have always been trying to get back to where I was. Spending time with family and friends, playing golf, watching football. Enjoying all aspects of life. I never thought that I wouldn’t get back to that place. That was until I had a specialist appointment regarding psoriatic arthritis of my wrist. Ever since it was diagnosed, I had been told that I would be put on some medication, and it will likely stop the pain that I have, and I can continue doing the things I enjoy. Seems like a good prognosis. Didn’t cross my mind that there could be added complications. So, as I turned up to this appointment, I thought it was a basic check over and straight on to the medication. However, what I didn’t know that the blood test I had been having were not of the level required. As my body is failing in many ways a combination of them and the medication, I was on were causing issues. I still wasn’t thinking this would be a major problem until the doctor said this line,

“If your liver function levels do not drop then you cannot start the medication and there is no plan B.”

 Going through my head was, No plan B? What do you mean no plan B? There is always a plan B? I was in shock. No words came out. I just sat there and shook my head. How can there be no plan B? I walked out of the room and started walking back to my room to pick up my stuff as I needed to get to the airport to get back home. But before I got there I broke down in tears. Unconsolably sobbing in the courtyard. Why is there no plan B? I phoned my wife and line managers trying to explain what had gone on. I don’t exactly know what I was saying. I just know I was in floods of tears and nothing that anyone was saying could stop it. I noticed the people in the vicinity to me, but they just carried on with their day. Not wanting to stop and see what was wrong. If anything, I was making them uncomfortable and so I went walking off to find someone who would listen. I eventually stumbled across the Padre’s office who sat me down for a chat and a cuppa. They didn’t say much in terms of offering advice, but they at least listened. After a while the tears stopped, and I was able to start making my way home.

The journey back was tortuous. I just wanted to lash out at anything and everything. I wanted the whole world to burn down as I felt abandoned. I was constantly going over in my head what I would do to the doctor if I saw them. I’ll show them no plan B. Every little irritating noise, movement, just everything was making me angrier and angrier. Which as most of you that have been to an airport will now is literally everything. The plane back up was tiny so that made me angry. The seat I was in wouldn’t recline which made me angry. My headphones had run out of battery which made me angry. The coffee was terrible which made me angry. I opened a bag of sweets which exploded, which made me angry. It’s a good job I’m not the Hulk as there would have been a trail of destruction all the way back home. I have no idea how I behaved when I got home but I doubt it was pleasant.

It wasn’t until I managed to speak to my own GP the next day that I was able to calm down. Then I started to feel guilty. It is always easier to lash out and blame others when things don’t go the way you want. I had been told that I needed to have more bloods and, in the meantime, try my best to eat healthily and change a couple of other things and my tests should come back towards where they should be. There might not be a plan B as such, just a delay to plan A. But I had been such a rampage in my head and focussing on the one little detail that I ignored what I needed to do. I was embarrassed. I was ashamed. I had been hurtful to those trying to help. Guilt is such a horrible feeling. It can bring back all the memories of other times you had not been able to live up to your promises. Like all the times I’ve said I would play with the kids. Or spending quality time with the wife. Going out with friends. Seeing family. Being completely focussed on tasks at work. The list goes on. All due to pain. All due to my failing body. Beating myself self-up every time there is a flare up or a setback in treatment. Hurting myself and those around me because I feel guilty for not being the person I once was. To who I think I should be.

I’m not a religious man. My and the one upstairs fell out a few years back and not been on speaking terms since. So, when it comes to bargaining I only have myself to barter with. I started saying I would completely change my diet to be healthier. Cutting out dairy, some carbs, have smoothies instead of sandwiches. Drop all the medication I was on as I read they could affect liver function. Like you always do when you decide to go on a diet and become ‘healthy’. Some have stuck which is good. But not all. The problem with bargaining with yourself is you look at your past actions and promise that you would something different knowing full well you wouldn’t. When you’re lying to yourself then the world starts to get a little darker. A little lonelier. Which is not a good place to be.

In our first session my counsellor asked me to watch a YouTube video called ‘I had a black dog; his name was depression’. I found this a little strange as I was, well what I believed I was, suffering from anxiety. Leaving the house had become a struggle. I didn’t want to talk to anyone other than the wife and kids. Work and medical environments were a big no no for me. In fact, anywhere with people made me extremely anxious and wanting to escape. That’s what I was exhibiting. What was actually going in my head was ‘I wonder how long it would take me to swim to Norway?’. Knowing full well I swim like a brick. But that was the point. If I attempted it then I would fail and drift away into the sea and become fish food. I would no longer be a burden to my family, friends, work, medical staff, etc. I would be nothing. There would be no more hurting. No more pain. I have completed training to try and spot these signs in people. I have had people vocalise these thoughts to me. But to have them going on in my head constantly, and not just a fleeting thought. This was new. This was not me. But it was the first thing I would think about in the morning and the last thing at night. It would come up through the day. And there only thing that was stopping it. The ONLY thing was my wife and kids. I cannot let them go through the pain and suffering of losing me. It doesn’t matter how much I hate myself right now. I know that they love me despite this, and I need to be there to show them how much I love them. I need to see my boys grow up in the amazing human beings they are going to be. I want to grow old and grey(er) with my wife and be able to enjoy the many more adventures we are going to have. I need to fight this black dog and find myself again.

In more recent weeks I have become more accepting of the situation. Things have started to slot in to place. I’ve started my medication. It doesn’t work instantly. I know this. But it’s a start. I have recently had a medical board. The outcome of which is I am medically unfit to continue serving in the RAF and that I am to be medically discharged (pending paperwork as always). At first, I was thought this would set me back. However, if anything it has lifted some of the stress. I am coming to terms with my limitations and working towards a new career where I have control. Where I can work more when times are good, and less when I am struggling. I am not my injuries. I am a father. I am a husband. I am a son. I am a brother. I am friend who is there for others. I am Christopher Edward Platts and I will find my place in this world again.

I’ve been listening to a lot of music recently as it has helped me to keep focussed when my head has been all over the place. This blog was almost called Jonny Cash – Hurt. In fact, if I had written this immediately in the weeks after the initial incident then it would have. However, I have moved on from that point. Coldplay’s Amsterdam is much more fitting to where I am currently. My star is fading. I’m coming terms with that. However, it has not gone. I still shine a light into other people’s lives. I still have something to offer. If it wasn’t for those who have supported me and cut me loose from my depression, then I would have faded away. Today is my 38^th birthday. I survived my 37^th year. I am going to thrive in my 38^th and beyond.