Story of a patient

It’s all too much for me. I am only 32 years old and my batteries are empty. I could fall asleep all the time. Often I feel depressed for no reason and my self-esteem is in the basement. Lately I even can’t stand the children anymore, there is a restlessness in the family because I don’t have any nerves anymore. I am so sorry, I wish it were different.

Meanwhile I can’t sleep well at night anymore, so I’m even more broken during the day and even can’t work for days. I hope there will be no dismissal because of this. My boss asks me what I have. What am I supposed to answer?

What has happened? Until a few months ago everything was completely different. In the morning I made breakfast, and after a refreshing shower I brought the children to school before my work. The job was fun for me, the 50% workload I managed without any problems. After lunch I took care of the apartment, then went jogging and felt fresh for family life in the evening. Now that is no longer the case. What could have happened to me? The marriage is good, I get on very well with my husband, the children are thriving and nobody worries. I like the work and the salary is good. Nothing could be better about my circle of friends either.

But now? The visit to my family doctor the other day was frustrating. After a detailed physical examination and blood collection, I was told that the result was actually very pleasing: I was healthy. No organ damage, no anaemia, no hypothyroidism or anything else. Beautiful. Nevertheless, I would have preferred it if something had been found. Something makes me sick! My self-doubts rise: I feel helpless.

How can that go on? Because my suffering is of a spiritual nature, the doctor prescribes antidepressants and I start to swallow them. With aversion. I am afraid and no longer understand the world. Have I become a “psycho”? And that within six months! My childhood was all right! So a disturbance caused in early childhood will hardly begin to manifest itself right now. Should I perhaps give up the job? While jogging I almost collapse after five minutes, so I give up sports. After a sleep cure and a one-week work break have not improved my condition, the worries of the family grow. My self-confidence has evaporated. And I don’t feel like having sex anymore, which my husband can only understand with difficulty. Has the doctor missed anything? Is something wrong in my head? Wouldn’t an x-ray be necessary slowly but surely? In the meantime I have visited a second doctor and received the same message from him: physically completely healthy! The head X-ray and the EEG would also have produced a completely normal picture. When I now ask him the reason for my suffering, I finally get a seemingly clear answer. I would find myself in a state of physical and mental exhaustion.

So that is the result of the investigation: I’ve put on too much! Raising children and working – it just doesn’t fit together and so on and so forth. I feel stupid. I already know this diagnosis very well myself; I get to it every day in the meantime. Of course: I am actually in a state of physical and mental exhaustion. But, my God, why only? Others also have children and work – and they are doing well!

So there is only one thing left for me – to pull through! From now on I have to force myself to live as if nothing were with me. My will will will persuade the lead-heavy body to get up in the morning, not to fall asleep when driving a car and not to appear grouchy at work. But after just a few weeks I notice that this doesn’t work out so well that I’m playing the wrong game. Now, in addition to the well-known complaints, I also suffer from neck and headaches. I often feel dizzy and have to hold on to the office desk in order not to go down. For God’s sake, now I am really sick! At last the doctor will have to make a correct diagnosis and perhaps help me.

With a spark of hope I go again to my family doctor. But to my horror he still can’t make a diagnosis except that my neck muscles are tense. At least that! I get a prescription for physiotherapy. Nine treatments pass without my pain improving. Slowly I am close to total despair and often have to cry. The care of my family is growing.

Then finally the turning point comes.

Today I know why I’ve suffered so much. I can hardly believe how quickly I recovered and how easy the treatment was. All I had to do was make the correct diagnosis and carry out the necessary therapy.

A third doctor, whom I finally went to, explained to me that I had far too little iron in my body. This was despite the fact that orthodox medicine still regards my blood value as normal. He gave me four infusions in just two weeks and I was fit again. A miracle?

Looking back, I would have had every reason to be angry with my former doctors. I did not feel taken seriously by them. I find it almost impudent to call myself a “psycho” and give me antidepressants instead of giving me the missing iron. I had resembled a plant that had almost turned yellow in dried out soil. I too could no longer thrive properly. I had lived past life suffering, almost a whole year. But I was, as I noticed, not the only one. In the waiting room of the Iron Centre I met not a few people who had been like me. For years they had been wrongly treated by their doctors. What fatal gap in knowledge must there be among doctors?