From the National Magazine

Help, He's Got Squatters' Rights!

Carole Pyke, South London Newsletter Editor writes:

I am a 40 something 'independent' (I'm sure this means more than I am on my own), single woman who has never lived with anyone except for mum and dad and a few lodgers to make ends meet. I am simply waiting for the right proposition and a wedding band before I commit myself to anything so long-term. At church recently I learnt all about the true meaning of being single. It's not that sad stereotype of being unhappy, lonely and on the shelf. It is so much more. Single means whole, unique, distinctive and powerful but just when I thought I could actually get to like that kind of definition for myself it happened. No Mr Right did not appear out of the blue and sweep me off my feet. Far from it. I started to notice little things, a bit like a boyfriend who first leaves some socks, records or should I say CDs (I'm showing my age) tracksuit bottoms and then he comes to visit and doesn't go home. It all happens very suddenly throwing you off guard and then there he is and you don't know how to get rid of him. Well that is how it started with mr lupus. I'm still not sure how he managed to steal my hair. There was no sign of forced entry or even a struggle. He came like a thief in the night and the only sign of his having been there at all was the clean scene he left behind. At this point I must emphasis that mr lupus is deliberately spelt with a small m and a small l. I really don't want to give him any more status than absolutely necessary; he is doing enough damage as it is, he doesn't need my help.

Why mr lupus?
He had to be male, his very mannerisms and actions dictate that but more importantly I believe that if you are under attack it is always easier to fight the battle when you can identify the enemy.

Who is mr lupus?
The best way I can think of describing him is as a two faced irritant. Sometimes he can be as nice as pie and you hardly know he's there. At other times he's like the madman from hell reaping havoc and mayhem everywhere he goes. He has deadly fingers which he likes to run through my hair and across my skin taunting me by leaving traces of his presence. Often catching me unawares he administers unwanted and unsolicited body massages leaving me with both internal and external damage. He's a bit like a drug dealing alcoholic who has not only got me hooked on a cocktail of drugs, his effect is often so intoxicating that I am unable to stand unassisted and need help to walk. Sometimes he is excitable and out of control, and doesn't like to be ignored, just like a child who has had one too many red smarties. This is when he does the most damage. I have to be on my guard. If I give him an inch believe me he will take more than the proverbial yard.

I had always had headaches, migrainely painful but not migraine, my feet were often tender (inflamed as I now know the terminology) at times I would feel tired and fatigued and sometimes I would feel low for no apparent reason. But I thought it was all normal (well my normality anyway). At first it was okay there was not too much disruption to my world, in fact I hardly noticed his presence and so I chose to ignore him. There was no need to keep taking those orange, red or white things (tablets to the uninitiated) after all there wasn't a whole heap wrong. After I had dealt with the hair issue everything was fine!

It's funny how if you have pain or discomfort long enough you begin to absorb it and start to believe that it's normal. I can only think that mr lupus did not like to feel relegated, ignored and unappreciated so he moved in lock stock and barrel, records, gym kit et al and set about making his presence felt. He claimed squatter's rights.

I had a look at the legal situation and it appears that as a squatter mr lupus has a lot of rights, in some ways I think more rights than me.

To begin with he had full run of the house and he took full advantage of the situation making himself comfortable, putting his feet up on the coffee table of my life and drinking the champagne of my spirit. I felt powerless to stop him but he doesn't pay any bills, doesn't have his name on the deeds and doesn't even put out the trash. I could find no benefits to his presence in my house. The more I thought about the situation the more depressed I felt, there had to be something that I could do but where to start. Being a woman used to being in control it really is hard to have to deal with someone else's temper tantrums.

I went to the library, looked through different books and journals and searched the wisdom of the World Wide Web. I met individuals in a similar situation to myself. They too had squatters, some called lupus, cancer, diabetes; in fact a host of other names all preying on their vulnerability. I came across people for whom the squatter had done major damage that they were still coming to terms with. The more I looked at other people's situations and the information I read, the more I realised that I was truly blessed, things were not so bad for me, but trust me it didn't feel that way. I felt like Monty the gold fish trapped and going around in circles.

Things had to change. mr lupus might be a squatter with a barrel load of rights, but this was my home and whilst he was under my roof there had to be some ground rules set and I was the one who needed to set them. I had been living by his rules for too long, the tables had to be turned even if it meant that I had to eat well, take tablets, get plenty of sleep and do some exercise. He was going to do things my way and if he didn't like it then he knew what he could do about it. Yes he could leave. If he wanted a fight then he had come to the right place. I was ready to give him one; after all I could be feisty when I wasn't fatigued.

But where to start?
Those orange, red and white things started to look appealing, okay well appealing is probably not the right word, more like necessary. I was going to relegate mr lupus to the basement the top floor was all mine. So it was here that my battle with mr lupus began.

After much pain, suffering and frustration I've come to realise that my medical team extends beyond the confines of the hospital walls. Doctors only know me when I'm sick, only I know me when I am well so I have created my own team to help me fight this battle and prescribe mr lupus' eviction notice. Affectionately known as the 'Healing Squad' my team consists of Rheumatologists, my GP, faith, God, Prayer, Humour, paper and pen, a positive outlook even on dark and cloudy days, supportive family and friends and plenty of hugs. Whilst I haven't found a cure the dark days look a lot brighter as a result.

So who's in your 'Healing Squad'?
Sometimes I feel like a courageous warrior valiantly manoeuvring my way from one battle to the next through the meandering corridors of life from the sexy blond look to mr lupus keeping me in bed for days on end.

At other times I feel more like something the cat dragged in and has left lying around for a few days. But this is an adventure, yes an adventure! Life is all about perspective and thinking of it as an adventure means that mr lupus and his antics are easier to deal with and deal with them is exactly what I am going to do, so watch this space.

mr lupus don't get too comfortable, your days are numbered!

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