To be best placed to help others, you have to help yourself first.

So I'm still off sick, coming to terms with my "disease". And surprisingly I feel a little more up beat. At time of writing. In reality, I'm up and down like one of those round things on a string which go up and down. You know, kids play with 'em.

It's all mostly orientating around my medication issues. Bad times. Very bad times... But that's not what I'm writing about today...

I decided to go to Westminster yesterday for the NASS "sign up for change" campaign. I did it to meet more people in my boat, who feel what I feel. I dragged my wonderful Mother along with me. It was actually quite an eye opener.

I met two very lovely people with AS and they were very friendly and supportive, offering lots of advice and information. They had a couple of family members with them, and also a couple of very nice people who work for NASS came down and joined in.

We all talked a lot and shared some experiences. Well, actually I was a bit quieter than usual and found myself feeling quite withdrawn. I don't think I knew what to make of it once I was there. I found myself again thinking about my Nan a lot. I did open up about some of my feelings and anxieties, in fact I must of appeared to be a bit of a pessimistic moaner. Well, they are two of my main traits recently. They were all very upbeat and friendly and I feel bad for "moaning" about my life now as i think they showed more "physical" symptoms than me whereas I don't have any physical traits of ankylosing spondylitis (at this point in my life) but constantly feel the stiffness and pain.

The main purpose of the day was to raise awareness and try to get people to sign a petition to this end. I got two signatures. A testament to my enthusiasm. Well at least I had a go. It's not as easy at it looks; approaching people and trying to explain a disease I'm still learning about myself then asking them to sign a bit of paper to help raise awareness... Honestly though, I could have done better and wish I had tried.

I'm definitely glad I went. I gained new insight and met more people. I want to help. I want to help the National Ankylosing Spondylitis Society in anyway I can. My adult life has been all about helping others to improve their lives. And this is another cause for me to get involved with. This is something that affects me intimately, and I owe it to myself to do something..... I just don't know what yet. I still have to fight some serious issues in my personal life which are affecting my ability to function to the best of my ability. I need to sort myself out first.

To be best placed to help others, you have to help yourself first.

Thank you to all the new people I met yesterday. You were all so nice, so friendly and so supportive. I hope we shall meet again.

And thank you to my wonderful Mother who is quite simply, the bollox.

Thank you to my children, for giving me youth, and unconditional love.

And last but not least, thank you to amazing wife-to-be, who continues to put up with me being what can only be described as an arsehole.

Night folks.

The path am I on. Turning to stone. Pessimism. The future.

It's been a hard few days. I nearly broke. I have been struggling real bad for a few months but it got worse, to breaking point so I went to the Doctor & I asked for help.

What can the Doctor actually do to help people with incurable illnesses? Quite a bit, I guess. But for me, and the "Smarties tube" amount of pain killers I take daily, the GP offered me a final option- anti-depressants. Not the option I was after. I've been there and done that, I can't go back. I don't like to go into detail about this side of things, so I'll stop for now. Suffice to say I take a lot of damn medication.

I have visualisations of seeing myself turn to stone. Like daydreams. It's how I imagine Ankylosing Spondylitis- Slowly....turning....to....stone.... There are visualisations to combat and reduce the negative effects of all kinds of ill health, I like to believe that. And watching yourself turn to stone IS NOT one of them.

I watched a documentary once about this kind of therapy. A kid with a serious disease (I don't remember exactly what) was told to go to bed everynight and imagine x-wing fighters (from the star wars movies) going to battle with the evil empire space fighters (his disease). He did this every night for a long time, until one evening, he went to bed and there were no enemy fighters. When tested, his disease had disappeared. Now, whether this is true or not, I don't know. But it stuck with me. And (sad & geeky I'm sure) I have tried this many times myself, in different ways. I'm not saying it works, I just love the idea of positive energy and reinforcement. And hell, if you BELIEVE it works, then why not. WHY NOT.

I live with many other fears too. I'm a natural pessimist. God I hate pessimism. How can we move forward as people if we live in a world of pessimism? Pessimists are dicks.

If my kids or grandkids get AS, how will they deal with it? How bad will it be for them? What will treatment be like in 10, 20, 30, 40 years? It can only get better, surely. My Nanny didn't have as many treatment options as i have. Anti-TNF treatment is relatively new, it will be well developed by the time my kids have grown up and have children of their own. There could be cures in 40 years for all sorts of today's incurables, including AS. I hope so.

Back to today and things are not good for me. Signed off of work for 2 weeks. That is serious shit. I need to use this time to evaluate my life, and attitude. I need to turn things around. No easy task. December, when I'm due to start the Anti-TNF, is still a long way off. I'm ill. In more ways than one. I acknowledge that now. I need to work out what to do and how to do it.

That is the first step. Acknowledgment. And my foot is in the air.

Let's hope it doesn't land in a pile of shit.

Today, the woes of back pain, sulking and guilt.

OK this is my second attempt. I just spent an hour writing this post- my longest ever- only to wipe the bloody thing by mistake. It will now be know as "the lost post" or "the forgotten masterpiece".

What do you do when you wipe such a massive body of writing? Try to re-write it and be as true to the original as possible? Just leave it and start again tomorrow with something different? Write a short paragraph without mentioning tthe wiped post? I'm going to take the "over-exaggerate the length, splendour, and importance of the wiped post, talk about how great it was, then write a brief overview of the main points" approach.

The title and the labels stayed intact, it was the main body that disappeared. So I'll start again and see how we get on. Now-

Major agony this morning. It took me 5 minutes to get my socks on. 5 minutes is a long time when it's spent putting a sock on a foot and then another sock on another foot. It made me feel quite, quite useless. I then went downstairs and tried to put two shoes on. George, my 11yr old son, saw that I could barely reach my foot and to my embarrassment and dismay, came over to me, put them both on my feet and tied my laces. I nearly cried. Bless that boy. He shouldn't be helping his father get dressed at 11 years old. And I'm not an elderly person, this shouldn't be happening! Contrary to the beliefs of younger people, 31 ISN'T OLD.

It makes me feel so horrible and useless and embarrassed with myself. And it is seriously getting worse. The missis is getting frustrated that I can't help with the baby in the mornings. That makes me depressed and angry. Poor me, so misunderstood. (Sarcasm). Tensions are high. The constant pain and/or stiffness makes me behave like an arsehole. My partner is nowhere near perfect, but niether am I, and I'm oversensitive and uncooperative when I'm in pain. I'm best left alone. But that can't really happen from early to mid/late morning every single day.

The missis went out at 9am, and fortunately the massive amount of pain killers began to do their job soon after, and by 1030ish I was ready to take the kids out. Up just before 8am after the usual stiff painful night, then pretty much 3 whole hours later I'm ready for the day. Pathetic. When we got to the beach we had a lovely afternoon. Harry (my 16 month old) is just an angel. We walked for miles (well a long way) and smiled a lot. We found crabs, chatted to people, watched dogs running about, ran in the mud and splashed in the sea.

There was one moment though, wear I actually pretty much started crying. It's shameful. I think that the stiffness, the lack of sleep and the "causes drowsiness" medication I'm on make me easily frustrated and quick to anger. Especially when in a situation, for instance, where I'm bending over, seriously straining my back, with a screaming baby in one ear and a grumpy 11yr old moaning in the other. I just snap. I screamed at George and just started to sob and mumble, trying to make Harry comfortable and happy. After about 10 minutes all was back to normal but it was so horrid, I feel so guilty, full of "bad parent" feelings and all sorts of other conflicting emotions.

Before and after this moment the day was fantastic and we all had such a wonderful time, it was really special. It is so amazing watching my children bond with each other, and I'm so proud of them both. I don't want to be a burden on them, or anyone.

I really shouldn't behave like this about it all. There are millions of people all over the world who are worse off than me, and half of them don't complain like I do. This blog must make me look pretty selfish, uncooperative, depressed, pessimistic and possibly a bit neurotic. I am. I always get my own way, and when i don't, I sulk like a child and behave like a fricking arsehole.

So with that in mind, you go get me some chocolate to put in my fat belly or I swear I'll throw a full blown tantrum.

I've been able to sit up and re-write this post because the stiffness starts early evening now and pushes through the night, ensuring I won't sleep like a regular human person. Hence the constant exhaustion and grumpiness. In fact, If i hadn't already mention my age, it wouldn't be difficult to put me with the likes of Victor Meldew, or although not quite an old man, Doc Martin.

A poor and much shorter re-write I'm afraid. Missing some key points from the original. But adequate enough to tell a story in one way or another, for better or worse. I hope someone out their is able to relate to my tales. And if so, it's worth wearing my heart on my sleeve.

Let's see what tomorrow brings.