If you’d told me a year ago, while I was standing in my kitchen having a full-scale emotional breakdown over a tiny injection pen, that twelve months later I’d be writing an anniversary post about losing nearly 36 pounds while also learning how to live with Long Covid, PoTS and Orthostatic Hypotension, I’d have laughed. Then I’d have asked if you were absolutely sure you had the right person. Because my plan for this year was beautifully simple. Lose some weight. Feel healthi

If Part 1 was about getting my life back… Part 2 is about the moment life looked at me and said, “Cute. Now watch this.” Because this was supposed to be the bit where I carried on losing weight. Another few pounds. A few smaller clothes. A couple more ridiculous weigh-ins involving comparisons to farm animals and kitchen appliances. Instead… my body decided to release what I can only describe as the Director’s Cut. It actually makes me laugh now because if you’d asked me at t

There are moments in life when you know something significant is happening. Getting married. Buying a house. Accidentally replying all to an email. And then… Standing in your kitchen, holding what can only be described as the world’s most expensive tiny pen, wondering whether you’re about to become a healthier version of yourself or accidentally inject your spleen. That was me. One year ago. One tiny jab. One enormous amount of unnecessary drama. Because if you’ve been here f

So, after Thursday’s unexpected episode of “The Street That Never Sleeps,” complete with police cars, heart palpitations, an optical migraine and my Visible Band having what can only be described as an existential crisis, I was hoping Friday might decide to be a little kinder. It didn’t exactly roll out the red carpet, but it did at least stop throwing quite so many surprises at me. Friday - Running on Empty (and Electrolytes) Friday was another work from home day because I w

If anyone had asked me how this week was going to go, I’d probably have confidently replied, “Oh, fairly quiet I think.” Which, as we all know by now, is basically the equivalent of standing in the middle of a field during a thunderstorm waving a metal umbrella around shouting, “What’s the worst that could happen?” Because this week had absolutely everything. A headache that deserved its own NHS referral, meetings about meetings, oversized red blood cells, another Mounjaro ja

Weekly Weigh-In: Week 53 - The Incredible Shrinking JABatha Strikes Again Weekly loss: 2 lbs Total loss: 35.5 lbs (16.1 kg) Well… Would you look at that. Another two pounds have packed their bags, left without paying rent, and disappeared into the witness protection programme. At this point I’m convinced my fat is secretly emigrating. When I got ill with Long Covid, PoTS and OH, life threw me a plot twist that absolutely nobody ordered. One minute I was happily jabbing away o

You know those weekends where you think: “This is it. This is the comeback weekend.” Yeah… Mine submitted a complaint to management. Saturday (Day 360) I remember waking up during the night with my heart absolutely galloping. Not because my body had decided to malfunction for absolutely no reason (although that’s always a possibility these days). No. I’d had the most ridiculous dream imaginable. There was apparently a burglar hiding in my wardrobe. Not stealing anything. Just

Weekly Weigh-In: Week 52 - My Scales Have Finally Decided To Apologise Can we all just take a moment to appreciate how unbelievably dramatic the human body can be? Honestly. If my body had a Facebook status, it would permanently read: “It’s complicated.” Last week, I stepped on the scales and was greeted by a number I definitely hadn’t invited. +6.6 lbs. Six point six. Not six ounces. Not “maybe I’ve had a big dinner.” A proper, full-on, “have I accidentally swallowed a small

Wow… what an evening and what a night... The pain. Bloody hell. I honestly don’t know whether yesterday’s steroid injection actually went into my shoulder or somehow took a scenic detour and ended up in my brain stem. At this point I’m willing to consider all possibilities because it would certainly explain why my neck has all the flexibility of a Victorian grandfather clock. Need to look left? Not happening. Need to look right? Also not happening. Need to look behind me? Wel

Honestly… The last couple of weeks particularly but I would stretch as far as few months (- the temp), have felt like I’ve accidentally been selected for some new reality TV show called “Survive If You Can.” Temperature? Approximately 100 billion degrees. Sleep? Cancelled. PoTS? Thriving. Shoulder pain? Operating on a level previously only achieved by medieval torture devices. I genuinely think these have been the worst three weeks I’ve had in a long time. You know it’s bad w

You know when people say, “Things come in threes”? Cute. My body clearly misunderstood the assignment and went for the unlimited subscription. At this point I don’t wake up in the morning… I log in. Every day starts with me wondering which part of my body has submitted a complaint overnight. Heart? Blood pressure? Brain? Shoulder? Eyes? Energy? Let’s spin the Wheel of Medical Misfortune and find out! Honestly, if my autonomic nervous system worked in an office, HR would’ve ma

Well… If you’ve made it this far… Firstly… Congratulations. This is the fial part of a missing JABatha story. Secondly… I think you probably deserve a Hydrava. Or a gin. Possibly both. If somebody had told me back on Day 195 that this would be my life 156 days later… I’d have laughed. Then probably thrown something at them. Because none of this was part of the plan. The plan was simple. Lose the weight. Come off Mounjaro. Enjoy my new wardrobe. Go on holiday. Dance behind the

Something changed in me over the last few months. Not physically. Mentally. And I don’t think I admitted it to myself until very recently. I’ve always been the person who gets on with things. Problem? Fix it. Feeling rubbish? Push through. Someone tells me I can’t do something? Watch me. I’ve always been stubborn. Probably too stubborn. It’s one of my best qualities. It’s also one of my worst. Because you can’t out-stubborn your own nervous system. Believe me… I’ve tried. For

Let’s just change the subject for a minute. Because as if PoTS, Orthostatic Hypotension, Long Covid, hospital appointments, blue feet, compression socks and my body’s complete refusal to cooperate weren’t enough… There’s also the tiny little matter of… Mounjaro. Remember that? The injection that this entire blog started with. The injection that changed my life. The injection I swore I was coming off. Yeah… About that. If you’ve followed this blog from Day One, you’ll know I’d

One thing nobody warns you about when you’re diagnosed with a chronic condition is that you don’t just lose your health for a while. You lose little pieces of yourself. Not all at once. Not dramatically. They just quietly disappear. One by one. And before you know it, you wake up one morning and realise you’ve become someone you don’t quite recognise. That bit… That bit has been harder than I ever imagined. I miss being spontaneous. I miss saying, “Fancy going out?” without f

Ok let's talk about it. So I officially have PoTS. Excellent. Now what? This is the bit nobody tells you. Getting a diagnosis feels like crossing a finish line. You spend months trying to work out what’s wrong with you, finally get an answer and think… “Right… brilliant. Now fix me.” Except… There isn’t really a fix. There’s management. There’s learning. There’s trial and error. There’s discovering your body has become more high maintenance than a Range Rover. Nobody actually

So… Apparently I have PoTS. And Orthostatic Hypotension. Brilliant. Tiny problem… I hadn’t got the faintest idea what either of those actually really meant and how those conditions are going to affect my life going forward. When the cardiologist first said “PoTS”, I genuinely thought he’d said pots. As in… Flower pots. Plant pots. The sort of thing you buy from B&Q because you’ve convinced yourself this is definitely the year you’re going to become a gardener. Spoiler alert…

There are certain moments in life that stay with you forever. Your first kiss. Passing your driving test. Buying your first house. And then… The day your feet decide they’re auditioning for Avatar. But I’m getting ahead of myself... By the beginning of April, I’d completely hit the wall. Not a gentle little bump. A full-speed, face-first collision. After months of telling myself I was “just tired”, my body finally staged a full-scale rebellion. I was signed off work for three