From Salsa and Zumba to Swine Flu
- Yew and Me
- Aug 27
- 7 min read
PLEASE NOTE: This post is heavier than my usual ones, but the story needs to be told…
Looking back, the first clear trigger for my becoming chronically ill came towards the end of 2009.
Life Before Illness – Busy, Joyful, and Full of Energy
I was a single Mum to an 11-year-old child with an inherited, chronic disease. While he was well enough to be in school, I volunteered at the local office of a national charity. I enjoyed going to Salsa, Pilates, and Zumba classes. I would regularly swim a mile at our local pool first thing in the morning before starting my day. On Mondays, I would enjoy a mooch around the charity shops in town. On weekends when my son was at his Dad’s, I would go out with friends, drinking and dancing the night away (reliving my youth - haha!).
Volunteering was my route back into work. My son’s health was stabilising, and he was approaching the point where he didn’t need me at home during school absences. I wanted to get skilled up and gain experience for future employment.
In my “spare” time, I was always organising big charity salsa parties, raising money for various causes, and connecting Salsa dancers and teachers from across the country. This was such a stark contrast to my years as a stay-at-home Mum, with no friends and an unhappy marriage. My life was now full, busy, and joyous.
In November 2009, I attended a Salsa party to promote my next charity event. I felt really tired that night, so I didn’t dance as much as usual and left early. It had been a hectic week, including a few days of travelling into Birmingham for formal training connected to my volunteer role. I was burning the candle at both ends, always busy, always on the go, or beavering away on my laptop. I told myself I just needed some sleep and I’d be fine. With hindsight, I can see I was ignoring all the warning signs, convinced nothing could slow me down.
People around me constantly warned me to slow down. You’ll make yourself ill, they said. My thoughts were that if that happened, I’d stop, rest, recover, and carry on.
The Flu That Changed Everything – Swine Flu Hits
The next morning, it was clear I was ill—flu-like symptoms hit me hard. My son was extremely vulnerable to viruses, and I had a suspicion about what I had, which my doctor confirmed via a telephone call. I had Swine Flu, later verified by an antibody blood test. It was terrifying to feel so helpless, especially knowing my son could be at risk.
I was quarantined at home, with a course of antiviral medication sent to both of us as a precaution. Thankfully, he didn’t catch it from me. I felt like I was dying—I’d never been so ill, not even when I caught Norovirus the year before. But this dragged on for far longer.
The weeks at home were frustrating. Sleep and TV filled most of my days because I could do very little else while keeping us both fed and watered. Living so far from family made it even harder, and I had no idea these would be some of the first of many difficult periods to come.
Struggling to Recover – Fatigue, Vertigo, and Setbacks
Once my quarantine ended and the UTI from the Swine Flu cleared up, I tried to return to my usual activities. But I struggled. Energy was scarce, everything felt harder. I thought I’d lost fitness from weeks of rest, so I pushed harder with exercise classes and swimming. But I couldn’t keep it up. I remember wondering, what is wrong with me? Was I just lazy? Or was something more serious happening?
There were a few weeks of near-normality, then the fatigue and achiness struck again, accompanied by vertigo and queasiness. I felt like a failure for not being able to do everything I loved and used to. Gradually, I dropped some activities, focusing on what remained—my son and the volunteer work I loved. Looking back, I was going round in circles, trying the same things over and over, wondering why they weren’t working. We rarely stop and take stock when we’re in the thick of life, do we?
After about 10 months, I felt I had almost recovered. Ten months recovery just from having the flu? I didn’t yet understand that my body had changed in ways I couldn’t see. I kept pushing, failing to keep up with everything, picking up every virus going, battling bouts of labyrinthitis and vertigo. Sick days followed by rushed returns to work. Rinse and repeat.
My participation in the Salsa world came to an end. Fitness classes were dropped one by one, swimming was put on hold, and seeing friends became too much. I told myself it was to make time for my new romantic relationship—but the truth was, I didn’t have the energy for it all.
I did, however, finish my training in Birmingham.
I loved my voluntary job, and my responsibilities grew. I took on their social media account, launched a national awareness campaign for the charity, gave a seminar, and received an award at their national conference. There was even talk of funding my role as a paid position. This felt like a dream come true!
The Turning Point at Exeter Conference
It was during this conference, in September 2012, that I first realised something was seriously wrong. The conference was held at Exeter University, and if you’ve ever been there you will know that it is situated on a hillside, so the campus is rather hilly! I struggled to keep up with a colleague who used a walking stick due to mobility issues. I kept muttering about needing to regain my fitness, while secretly worrying about what was happening to me. A sinking feeling took hold—if someone with mobility issues could manage better than me, what was happening to my body?
On the final day I gave my seminar (which I’d only had a couple of days to prepare for). I was very nervous, and it was better attended than had been anticipated. When the room fell silent, and it was time for me to start talking, I froze—I was so nervous and stressed that my vision had blurred and I couldn’t see my notes. Then I felt a zap in my brain—like an elastic band stretched too far and snapping. In that moment I knew that I was far too stressed, and far too exhausted for my body to cope with. But I took a deep breath, muttered something to the audience about my nerves, which immediately brought them on side, and somehow got through my presentation and the following Q&A session. Somehow, it was a great success! I was proud, of course I was—but inside, I was terrified. Something was seriously not right with me!
The final evening approached. I just wanted a chocolate bar from a vending machine and to crawl into bed. But I had been tipped off about the award, so I got dressed for the lengthy dinner and ceremony. It all went in a blur. Excitement swirled around me as I returned from the stage with my medal, yet all I wanted to do was curl up and sleep.
The next day, I went straight from the conference to meet my partner for a romantic weekend, celebrating our first anniversary. Instead, I spent more time in bed than anticipated—and not in a fun way! A horrific attack of vertigo and extremely low blood sugar hit me in a gift shop. The car was just outside, and my partner drove around looking for food. I couldn’t walk far and had to wait in the car. Was this just fatigue, or something serious? I felt helpless. Chocolate helped, a little, and I promised myself I would see a doctor as soon as we returned home. I was hopeful—but also filled with fear about what the doctor would discover.
Giving Up the Life I Loved – Work, Volunteering, and Loss
After that, I could no longer manage my voluntary job. The fatigue, pain and vertigo returned, and I had to give up the role I loved. My dream of earning my own income was snatched away. A deep sense of loss and frustration set in—like the life I had carefully built was slipping through my fingers, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
In the years leading up to this, life had been a continuous climb up a mountain—mental health struggles, a sick child, debt problems, moving house four times in two years, trying to study for a degree, my son’s diagnosis, and a stressful divorce all in quick succession. I finally felt I had reached the top, ready to enjoy the view—my son was thriving, I had a partner I adored, and there was a real possibility of returning to work doing something I loved for a cause I was passionate about. Then—BANG! Life as I knew it was over. I felt adrift at sea, with no control over where I was heading.
Maybe this is a feeling you’ve experienced too—has chronic illness, or something else, suddenly altered your path? Have you ever felt the rug ripped from beneath your feet? Share your experiences in the comments below 👇🏻—I’d love to hear from you.
If you’re at the start of a similar journey, please know you’re not alone.
This was just the beginning of a very different chapter in my life. Part 2 will cover what happened next—my diagnosis and how I began navigating life with chronic illness. Don’t forget to subscribe so you don’t miss it!
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