"Do you want to make another appointment Mr Ayres?"
"No, The Specialist doesn’t think it’s worth it."
Three months ago The Specialist in Edinburgh was convinced my problems were down to Depression and that if I just gave the anti-depressants long enough to kick in my tiredness would resolve itself (see When the wizard turns out to be just a bloke wearing ordinary shoes).
Well on the plus side, the anti-depressants have kicked in, especially since they were upped to 60mg about a month ago. I no longer get the sudden, out of the blue, overwhelming feelings of intense grief and sadness that were crippling me for most of the 2nd half of last year.
However, the tiredness remains.
This time The Specialist had no more suggestions. None of the blood tests indicate anything worth following up: my iron levels are fine; my thyroid is fine; my immune system is pretty laid back and not reacting like it's under any threat, and so forth.
There’s little point in traipsing up to Edinburgh to see him any more.
So, in summary:
I officially have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome
No one knows how long it will last
No one knows if it will improve or get worse
The doctors are happy to give me whatever pills I ask for to make my life easier
I need to balance my energy levels and avoid boom-and-bust activities
Other than that, I’m on my own.
I need a new Narrative.