This quick catch-up post is written in response to the 2026 July Writing Prompts — come join our little online writing community for the chronically ill and disabled, too!
*Disclaimer: This article is meant for educational purposes, and is based on my personal experiences as a patient. I am not a doctor, and nothing in this article should be substituted for medical advice. Please consult your own doctor before changing or adding any new treatment protocols. This post may also contain affiliate links. It will cost you nothing to click on them. I will get a small referral fee from purchases you make, which helps with the maintenance of this blog. Read our Privacy Policy page for more information. Thank you!
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I suppose “updating” would be a good word to start with — kind of like a mini catch-up on what and how everyone is doing! A quick catch-up on my end:
Right, now onwards to what I will be doing this July 2026, and what I have planned on a longer-term scale!
I have had to take three semesters of leave from my studies, as I had that stupid oesophageal surgery, which opened the gates to a barrage of new health problems. Then, it was a run-on of more 'minor' issues and flare ups with my various chronic illnesses. You know how it goes — before you know it, you've turned 40, and also missed 1.5 years of your studies.
It's a little depressing, as I will need to befriend new Gen Z-ers when I go back to school. I only had one real friend when I was still studying there previously. I mean no offense if you are a Gen Z reader; it's just that my classmates are young enough to be my kids. So the conversation topics differ quite a bit, as do our priorities and focus in life.
I was undecided as to whether I should return to my studies for a spell, as I realised that what I had wanted to do with the degree — language documentation — was quite impossible for me; I would need to further pursue a phD, and the only viable option to do that as a 'real job' is to work as a professor at a university, with language documentation as a 'side gig'.
I'd say that pursuing my studies even further isn't the main issue, but there is no way I could work as a professor or teacher of any kind. It's not just not my thing, but facing a group of students and being responsible for them is physically impossible as someone who's chronically ill and disabled.
Regardless, I have two more years of my studies to go. So I am going to just recommit to the programme, and see it to the end. No more thinking and overthinking — just get it done with, pay off the loans, and I'm sure that there are always opportunities that overlap in my current line of work, and areas of knowledge.
Yes, I am bracing myself for the return to school, as there will be major changes to my routines and schedules. I am not a morning person by nature, and I also need to wait about two hours for my meds to kick in every day, before I'm somewhat functional. I wanted to take afternoon classes exclusively, but clinched two morning ones that each last for 4 hours at a stretch, during the bidding session for classes (horrible system, btw). That will be tough for me, but I will try to cushion them with 'white space days' in between.
Apart from school, I might also take on a job from a new client. I don't want to jinx it, so all I'll say for now is that I will need to be very disciplined in juggling between work and school, and not overcommit, as I tend to do.
Finally, the soonest thing I am bracing for is a 'minor' surgery to remove some pre-cancerous cells on the 10th of July. So if I'm offline during those couple of days — you know why!
I suffer from insomnia; the unpredictable vomiting episodes at night do not help, and I think I got the night-owl genes from my mum to boot — she is often up later than even I am. I also realise I need about 10 hours of sleep a day to be at my best — whatever 'best' means in relation to being chronically ill. (That is quite an awful lot 😔 What is yours, out of curiosity?)
Thus, my psychiatrist — who helps to manage my sleep and mood issues — has asked me to document my sleeping and waking times, and also how frequently I wake at night. So far, it's been random pepperings of 'normal' 10 hour sleep stretches, alternated with nights where I wake up every 30 minutes to vomit until dawn.
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In relation to a more interesting type of 'documentation' — I enjoy drawing a tarot spread for the week ahead. I pair this with a significator card, which I use to set my intentions or to ground me on a weekly basis. I don't use tarot for fortune-telling, but more as a mindfulness tool. Having said that, I need to pay more attention to my reflections, or they're pretty much just pretty thoughts scribbled down 😛
So far, I've gained many interesting snippets of insight every week, when I reflect on each card paired with my significator. Sometimes, a 'bad' card turns out to be surprisingly 'good', when viewed from another perspective; not a different perspective, but a more complete one, in the grand scheme of things.
Question — I want to expand this blog to add on a paid membership plan, simply to cover blogging fees, and hopefully earn a wee bit more. Do you think sharing these insights would be of any interest to people?
Tarot Decks I Own & Use:
Finally, I think I've been spending too much money on my furry little companion, Talisker (so now you know where my money goes to...). But I don't mind pampering him with quality time and treats. He is my world; I don't have any good friends left (maybe just one), as they have all started their own families, or are too busy with their careers — things that I also wish I could have in life, but am unable to.
I don't bear grudges toward them, because I understand that people drift apart at different stages in their lives. Yet, sometimes I wish they would just say 'hi' (and it's not that I haven't tried to keep in touch on my part, either). These are all good, kind-hearted, lovely people. But life has a way of keeping even these angels overwhelmed — perhaps even more so.
Modern Talking - You're My Heart, You're My Soul (Official Video)
I admittedly have also been pampering myself a little in terms of skincare products. Perhaps it's that I'm getting older, and finally realised that ageing is a thing 😆 I think they call it vanity 😉 Perhaps it's also because I have been single for a while, and whether I care to admit it or not — I fear being #AloneForever.
You might be surprised, but many potential partners shun you when they learn that you have a chronic illness — and worse — if you have a physical disability, too. Whilst I wouldn't want such people as partners anyway, that's the cold, hard reality that many people with disabilities face (though not all, for sure).
Having said that, I do believe that there are still good people out there. And I still choose to put myself out there, as I operate on a "don't try, don't know" mentality in all areas of my life.
Whilst gua sha can be used on the face for beauty reasons, I've been doing it more for relaxation purposes a couple times a week before bed. To my surprise, I fell asleep within 30 minutes the first few times I did it (usually I toss and turn for two hours or so).
I've discovered little dots of muscles in my face that ache each time I gua sha them, and each time the spots differ. Interestingly, even the lips and places on your face you wouldn't think could be achy, can be tense.
Here are the three books I've been referring too for a few simple strokes, should you be interested, too:
So what have you been up to, and will be up to this July 2026? Come share in the writing prompts below. I truly hope to see a few friendly faces and regulars, and can't wait to read and share your entries 😊 Have a good July!
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So, I haven't ran a linkup party in ages. I haven't written a new post on the blog for a while as well, as I wanted to focus on drafting my memoir. However, believe it or not, despite having an outline and the time to work on it for the past couple of months, I've barely gotten past chapter one.
I feel like I need to do some freeform writing, as I've been mainly working on medical research articles the past couple years, both for this website, and for clients. That, or formal copywriting for websites, and optimising them for SEO. I feel like my brain is 'stuck' with only formal instead of creative writing now, and I'd like to break that writer's block.
So will you help me out by joining me in kicking off the monthly linkups again? I consolidated all my previous entries on my “Diary Entries” page, but now, I'd like to re-open this to the chronic illness and disabled community again on a monthly basis (or as close to monthly as I can). Let's do this together!
*Disclaimer: This post/linkup is meant for educational purposes, and is based on my/our personal experiences as patient(s). I/We are not doctors, and nothing in this post or its associated links should be substituted for medical advice. Please consult your own doctor before changing or adding any new treatment protocols. This post/linkup may also contain affiliate links. It will cost you nothing to click on them. I will get a small referral fee from purchases you make, which helps with the maintenance of this blog. Read our Privacy Policy page for more information. Thank you!
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The writing prompts are a monthly get-together for anyone with a chronic illness, mental illness or disability. An opportunity to share, to listen, and to learn from one another through shared writing prompts.
I also think it’s a great way to provide insight into life with chronic pain and disabilities, from many different points of view. You can choose to write about your latest experiences with chronic illness and/or disability, or even turn it into an evergreen blog post.
All you have to do is write a post using at least three of the writing prompts listed below, and publish it on your blog, or to a free writing platform such as Medium or SubStack (don't forget to set the post for public viewing!). Then click on the blue ‘Add Link’ button in the widget below to add your blog post to this page. Voilà, you’re now part of the linkup party!
Here are a few health events happening this month, should you be at a loss for words, and needed something to stir those creative or advocacy juices! Also, Happy Canada Day to all my Canadian friends and readers 🙂
The following awareness campaigns span the entire month:
The July 2026 writing prompts would probably make for a great way for all of us to catch-up and update each other on what we've been up to in all areas of life. (And probably to b*tch about new chronic illness problems, heh.) Alternatively, you could be updating your doctor or loved one about an issue, updating a project or website, updating certain details or data — the list goes on!
Has the trail for a commitment of yours gone cold, yet you'd like to see it revived? What would you like to recommit yourself to this July, or for the long-term? It could be related to work, school, relationships (familial/platonic/romantic/etc), a self-care routine, a diet or exercise plan, or anything else that you might find meaningful or helpful.
Is there an event that you're bracing for this month, such as a surgery, medical test results, or a difficult chat that's way past due? Alternatively, you might be experiencing invigorating weather, or adding tangible support to something that you're physically building.
Do you document or track anything for chronic illness management, such as your diet, sleep or heart rate? I think many people with chronic illness are fantastic project managers of their lives. Apart from that, you could also be documenting in the form of a journal or film (short or long-form), or documenting languages, data, notes, and many other types of observances — either formally or informally.
Are you pampering anyone in particular this July? Perhaps a loved one's birthday is coming up, or perhaps it's time for a small holiday, staycation, or 'me-time'. You could also be spoiling yourself in many different ways (both healthy and unhealthy 😛), or pampering someone else (pets and plants included!).
Do you have thoughts to any of the writing prompts above? I truly hope to hear from you, and am eager to read what you have to say!
You can read past linkup entries here for inspiration or ideas on how or what to write about. Feel free to write in whatever style or form suits you, however. These writing prompts are meant to be a relaxing and cathartic community activity, after all. Happy writing and sharing!
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*Note from Sheryl of “A Chronic Voice”: I am happy to be able to share another male advocate’s story on the blog today (although obviously not happy that he is suffering from fibromyalgia). I truly believe that more male voices are needed when it comes to invisible illness, for the same reasons that Stephen White states within his own story below.
*Disclaimer: This article is meant for educational purposes, and is based on my personal experiences as a patient. I/We are not doctors, and nothing in this article should be substituted for medical advice. Please consult your own doctor before changing or adding any new treatment protocols. This post may also contain affiliate links. It will cost you nothing to click on them. I will get a small referral fee from purchases you make, which helps with the maintenance of this blog. Read our Privacy Policy page for more information. Thank you!
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According to Choy et al. (2010), the mean time taken for a patient to be diagnosed with fibromyalgia was approximately 6.5 years from the onset of symptoms. Within that study of 800 patients, only 16% were men. This makes it a double whammy for men with fibromyalgia, as there is a two-fold stigma attached to it. From a clinical perspective, a doctor might dismiss the pain, as “men do not ‘really’ get chronic illness or fibromyalgia”. Within a societal narrative, men are often expected to be “strong and stoic” — pain is thus, frequently suppressed voluntarily, yet reluctantly.
Personally, my own doctor has stated that I probably live with some 'baseline level of fibromyalgia', together with my autoimmune cocktail of Antiphospholipid Syndrome, Lupus, Sjögren's disease, and many other chronic illnesses and disabilities. Two things that have helped me through each of these diagnoses are medical research, and support from other patients (many who have become friends!). Meaning to say that knowledge paired with humanity becomes a powerful combination to help survive the relentlessness of chronic illnesses, and the pain they bring. If you are newly diagnosed with fibromyalgia, here are a few useful resources from official guidelines and websites:
For now, I shall shut up, and hand over the page to Stephen!
Though undiagnosed at the time, I’ve experienced fibromyalgia since the age of 21. It was January 2017 when my pain first started, just as I was returning to university after the Christmas holidays. I had six months left of my integrated master’s degree in Geology, and I felt extremely anxious to return. The end of my degree was in sight, and my mind was on my thesis constantly. Would I find a good job at the end of this?
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In the beginning, I felt a strong, aching pain in my chest, and my heart rate was very high. I kept a close eye on the pain over the next couple of days, but it didn’t settle down. Naturally, the preoccupation over my health fed into anxious thoughts. It may seem overblown, but I genuinely thought I could be having a heart attack, or that something was seriously wrong with me.
And so, I asked if my housemate could drive me to the hospital. When I arrived, I was quickly triaged at the A&E, before they conducted an ECG scan. I waited nervously for the results in a hospital bed. However, after only an hour or so, I was told by a kind doctor that they could find no abnormalities, and that I was otherwise healthy. I was discharged and sent home, whilst feeling very confused.
When I returned home from the hospital, I became more concerned about the chest pain over the next few days, as it hadn’t subsided. To my worry, fatigue began to accompany the pain, which then became chronic over weeks and months. This chronic fatigue was brutal. Within the span of a few weeks, I went from being a highly active 21-year-old, to barely being able to walk down the stairs. I was really scared, and had no idea what was happening to me.
I had to take a break from my degree to recover, and was unable to complete an environmental module that I had been really looking forward to. I remember having a meeting with my supervisor and the course organiser, to discuss how I could finish my studies for the year. I felt so dejected. I didn’t want the attention that this illness brought, and I really struggled to verbalise what I was experiencing.
I also felt a visceral sense of imposter syndrome. Up until the start of 2017, I had always been able to cope with whatever life threw at me. I was young, otherwise healthy, and wanted so desperately to just push through this period of ill health. This didn’t feel like the ‘normal’ me, and I didn’t want to take time out. I just wanted to complete my course the same way as the rest of my coursemates did.
However, it soon became apparent that I would need accommodations. With the extra time and flexibility they granted, I managed to complete my degree. Looking back, I’m not sure how I would have been able to complete my course without those adjustments.
My health improved during the summer of my graduation, and I was gradually feeling more like my previous healthy self; only a few lingering pains could be felt here and there. I started a career in exploration geology, which was my dream job. It meant spending time in rural Türkiye, collecting metallurgical samples and mapping the geology of the area. There was a lot of travelling involved, but I was hoping the leftover pain would eventually resolve on its own.
My optimism didn’t quite go to plan. Months later, I had my first major pain flare-up. To cut a long story short, I had to quit my job as it was too physical for me.
I needed support, so I moved back in with my family. They were big life changes, and it felt like all my independence had disappeared in an instant. The aftermath of the flare-up was messy, to put it lightly. I lost a lot of confidence in myself, and felt so angry, confused, and heartbroken.
It was so hard not to compare myself to my peers at the time, who had now either started their own careers or had taken time out to go travelling. For years, I had planned a career built for the outdoors, either in mineral exploration or environmental geology. These plans seemed impossible after my flare-up. Experiencing chronic pain completely flipped my life on its head, and I had no idea how I was going to navigate it.
As a young man, I struggled to communicate that I was having a really hard time with my health. I had always been told “the world is your oyster” at that age, but in truth, I felt more trapped by my circumstances than anything else.
My health became a real rollercoaster ride throughout my twenties, with hospital appointments, surgeries, and work-life balance to navigate. For the past nine years, I’ve had to deal with chronic fatigue and nerve pain, as well as the ups and downs in mental health.
With all the issues I had presented to the doctors over the years, they still couldn’t give me a complete diagnosis, as they didn’t know what was fully going on. There was always a baseline of chronic pain and anxiety, but I found it difficult to explain my symptoms, because they would come and go, and varied in intensity.
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It wasn’t until I turned 30 last year that I was finally diagnosed with fibromyalgia — a condition that affects around 2.5 million people in the UK (University of Aberdeen, n.d.). The National Health Service [NHS] (2022) defines the condition as chronic, characterised by pain throughout the body. From my personal experience thus far, most people become concerned for me when they hear about my diagnosis.
Many of them are also surprised to see a male with a fibromyalgia diagnosis. This is because fibromyalgia disproportionately affects women more than men (80 – 96% of cases are found in women) (Ruschak et al., 2023). As a person who lives with fibromyalgia, I will also add that there is still a real lack of understanding in the medical community about the condition in itself. In addition, research has typically concentrated on women, due to the low percentage of men with fibromyalgia (Ruschak et al., 2023).
I often wonder if the smaller proportion of men with fibromyalgia is solely due to genetics, or also to do with how men behave in general. For instance, men tend to be very silent when it comes to invisible disabilities, and also their mental health.
Societal norms typically dictate that men should be strong and be viewed as providers, usually in a familial context. It’s an expectation that I struggle to live up to; in fact, many of my male friends have told me that they feel the same way. ‘Masculine’ traits such as leadership, emotional detachment, and financial success have been drilled into us since we were little boys — by media, films, sports, culture — the list goes on.
With such an orchestrated backdrop, it’s no wonder that men struggle to open up when they face difficulties in life. When we do so, it feels like we’ve failed in some way, or that we have lost a part of our masculinity. For men with fibromyalgia, this sense of failure is compounded by everyday pain, which can lead to isolation, along with other mental health issues such as anxiety and depression (University of Aberdeen, n.d.).
One activity that I’ve always loved is exercise. Whether that’s walking, hiking, or going to the gym. Throughout my teenage years and early twenties, I ran cross-country events for my school and county, and played football with my university coursemates. I had even run a half-marathon eight months before the onset of my pain. Exercise had always featured heavily in my life.
Now, I need to be more mindful when I exercise. I need to be careful not to push myself to my limits, as doing so can have a knock-on effect on my pain levels the following day. Throw in work, general life duties such as cleaning and cooking, and it quickly becomes tricky to balance mentally. This is especially true when I’m experiencing chronic pain.
We live in a culture focused on fitness and achievement, and that’s hard to live up to for men with fibromyalgia. I need to skip the gym on the days when I’m feeling really fatigued or in pain, which slows down any progress I have been building up in my workouts.
This is frustrating because I have fitness goals, but I’ve also learned to be more flexible with them due to my condition. I now know that if I am experiencing a flare-up, it’s more important that I look after my health, rather than “push through” the pain. Doing otherwise would only exacerbate the pain and exhaustion. Regardless, I still feel frustrated that it has to be this way.
I miss playing football and long-distance running. It becomes easy to compare myself to others who might be training for a marathon or reaching their gym goals, whilst I’m crashed out on the sofa. However, empathy and kindness are two traits that I’ve been working on for a while now. I have also been practising radical acceptance. Just because I’ve had to take a week off from going to the gym, that doesn’t mean I’m any less capable. It’s helpful to remind myself of all my good qualities, too.
Speaking of “pushing through” pain, men with fibromyalgia can often feel that they’re not tough enough if they don’t force themselves to carry on, despite their struggles. Sometimes, I think to myself, “who am I trying to prove myself to”? I’ve found this mindset shift to be incredibly helpful for challenging conditioned thoughts and behaviours that I may have.
With all the challenges we face in our society today, I want to speak up on behalf of those with invisible disabilities, regardless of gender. However, I want to specifically reach out to men who feel stigmatised for speaking up about their struggles, and say that it’s okay to admit when you’re not feeling great. It’s healthy to express your emotions, and isn’t a sign of weakness.
When it comes to chronic pain, we wouldn’t expect someone with a broken leg to glide through the day or attend the office five days a week. The difference is that a broken leg is visible, whereas an invisible disability isn’t.
Speaking objectively, visibility brings a unique challenge of its own. Obviously, no one can read anyone else’s mind to know what they’re going through, but empathy and kindness can go a long way when we interact with our fellow humans. This is especially relevant when it comes to healthcare and the workplace.
In healthcare, we need to adopt a culture of trust when an individual presents long-term pain concerns. Just because the pain isn’t visible, it doesn’t mean it’s not real. I really do believe that western medicine needs to adapt to a changing world, and approach chronic pain with a holistic approach that is tailored to the individual. This means an approach that takes into consideration talking therapies, physical therapies and medications. A combination of all three is ideal, but should always be tailored to the individual.
This will take time and change is never easy, just like any facet within society. General practitioners and health professionals tend to only have 10 minutes per appointment; they are also seriously overworked in a pressurised system.
Speaking from my own experience as a man with fibromyalgia who has been through the medical system in the UK — a holistic approach has worked for me, and has helped me to live a much better life with an invisible disability. Unfortunately, I had to discover this approach by myself in my twenties. It took many years of self-study, reading, and pushing for referrals to relevant consultants. I don’t want others to go through what I did.
With the right foundations, I believe that it’s possible to change our outlook on chronic pain collectively as a society. Ideally, this should be guided by a top-down healthcare approach.
Public and workplace environments also need more education in regards to accommodations, and how to adapt to individuals accordingly. It takes brave individuals to speak up, and to educate others about the invisible conditions we live with. We can be a more inclusive society if we help those with invisible disabilities to feel more comfortable in our shared environments.
If you have any questions about chronic pain, fibromyalgia or are interested in learning more about my background, my DMs are always open.
All the best,
Stephen
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I’m 30 years old and live in London, UK. I love nature and try to get out of the city often! I play guitar and sing, previously in a band but I mostly play solo now. I love all things water sports — surfing, paddleboarding and swimming — so I tend to choose breaks by the sea. My background is in Geological Science, however, I’ve worked within the Climate Technology and Insurance industries since I graduated — either in carbon analysis or as a Natural Disaster Analyst. I’m passionate about learning more from climate change, but I also have a keen interest in genealogy and psychology — which both developed during my twenties. Researching family history has led to uncovering my Irish and Scottish roots, and I’m currently taking an Introduction to Counselling course to explore more about the potential routes to becoming a therapist. Here is my blog and Instagram account.
*Note from Sheryl of A Chronic Voice: What is "art", really? A quick search yields a few similar dictionary definitions:
"The making of objects, images, music, etc. that are beautiful or that express feelings". (Cambridge)
"Skill acquired by experience, study, or observation". (Merriam Webster)
Many people tend to associate 'art' with Picasso, Rembrandt or some other museum-worthy painting. Either that or a starving artist with 'no real job'. Yet we often miss the other dimensions of art, even within dictionary definitions — such as being a medium for expression, as well as mastery of a skill. In that sense, anything within any field can be honed into an artform.
In this post, Martin Block shares more about art forms, and how they can benefit children with various developmental differences. Shall we dive in? 🙂
*Disclaimer: This article is meant for educational purposes, and is based on my personal experiences as a patient. I am not a doctor, and nothing in this article should be substituted for medical advice. Please consult your own doctor before changing or adding any new treatment protocols. This post may also contain affiliate links. It will cost you nothing to click on them. I will get a small referral fee from purchases you make, which helps with the maintenance of this blog. Read our Privacy Policy page for more information. Thank you!
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Sometimes a child hums before they speak. Sometimes they tap, fold, line things up. And it's not random. It's not empty behavior. It's not something to redirect. It's a sign — something’s working. Something’s flowing.
The arts don’t always arrive in brushes or songs. They arrive in patterns, gestures, sounds. Wherever that shows up, it’s worth following. Especially when language is slow to come. Especially when attention is scattered. That’s where the connection begins.
Kids who don’t speak much — or who echo — still feel everything. Strongly. Loudly. Sometimes all at once. And if there’s nowhere to put it? That’s when things explode. Or shut down. But give them shape. Give them color. A surface. A place to push. And it changes.
Programs that layer creative expression into emotional development are proving that regulation doesn’t have to start with words (Birrell et al., 2025). It can start with hands. With movement. With space. The point isn’t to create something good. It’s to let the noise settle.
A lot of families start with a corner of a table. Then maybe a shelf. Then maybe a kitchen cupboard full of projects no one can throw out. Sometimes it’s not even about the child. Sometimes a parent’s the one who draws first. Sometimes it turns into something more.
There are now families building small businesses around their shared creativity — not for money, but for rhythm. If you’ve ever thought about shaping your own passion for art into something that supports connection and identity, this is the lane. It doesn’t have to scale. It just has to mean something.
Not every child who needs to speak can do it through the mouth — not right away, at least. But give them texture. Tools. A beat. A pattern to repeat. And suddenly, there’s language — just not the kind people expect.
It comes out in spirals. In rows. In tracing. In stopping halfway through and doing it all again. Arts programs focused on children with speech or communication blocks show that meaning doesn’t need a sentence to be real (Léger-Goodes et al., 2024). It just needs a form.
Paint is messy. Clay is unpredictable. Collage sticks to everything. That’s the point. Because to do those things, the hands have to work together. The arms have to reach. The eyes have to track.
For children with developmental differences such as motor delays, this is training disguised as play. A lot of formal therapies miss this. They isolate the movement, forget the joy. But art-based motor workshops flip that. They let kids build strength without knowing they’re building anything at all. Which, ironically, is when the most happens.
You can be in the same room and still miss each other, especially when a child doesn’t follow back-and-forth the way others do. So instead of conversation, there’s shape. There’s rhythm. There’s making.
That’s where real inclusion shows up — not in policy, but in practice. It looks like a kid with one sound on loop building something next to another who speaks five languages. It looks like group art sessions that aren’t about skill, but about showing up. UNICEF’s own reporting on arts-driven cultural inclusion initiatives offers global examples. What do they have in common? No one’s expected to act “typical.”
“These programmes can play a transformative role in promoting social inclusion by encouraging children to actively participate alongside one another. For children with disabilities in particular, these activities provide a space to build self-esteem, improve communication and foster a sense of belonging in group settings.” (UNICEF, 2025)
Some schools still keep arts on Fridays — optional, ungraded, squeezed into the end of the week. Others have figured it out. That learning isn’t just input and recall. It’s rhythm. Sequence. Motion. Flow. And for neurodivergent kids, it’s often the only door that stays open.
International pushes for arts-first learning models are changing what counts as intelligence. Kids who can’t hold a pencil “correctly” are composing. Kids who stim through dance are choreographing without knowing it. Schools are slow to shift. But families don’t have to wait.
In many places, disabled artists don’t get gallery shows. Or press. Or awards. So they build their own rooms. Their own stages. Sometimes it’s digital. Sometimes it’s hyperlocal. Doesn’t matter. What matters is that there are now entire networks devoted to making space.
One example — this hub for global arts initiatives — curates programs where disabled children, teens, adults can show their work, get support, and be part of a culture that sees them as contributors, not just participants. It’s not therapy. It's a community.
This isn’t about unlocking potential. It’s about letting it run. Art doesn’t need to be framed to matter. A drawing doesn’t need to be praised to count. Not every moment needs to be labeled “progress.” Some things are just good. Because they are. Because a child made them. Because a parent paused long enough to notice. That’s enough.
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Martin Block is the co-founder of Able Rise and an advocate for digital accessibility and inclusive design. With a background in web development, he focuses on building practical tools that empower the disability community and bridge gaps in societal support. Through Able Rise, Martin aims to create compassionate, technology-driven solutions rooted in lived experience.
I am pleased to have Liam Virgo on the blog today — but not glad that he has to live with the poorly understood medical condition, Functional Neurological Disorder (FND), previously known as "conversion disorder".
*Disclaimer: This article is meant for educational purposes, and is based on the patient(s)' personal experiences. I am not a doctor, and nothing in this article should be substituted for medical advice. Please consult your own doctor before changing or adding any new treatment protocols. This post may also contain affiliate links. It will cost you nothing to click on them. I will get a small referral fee from purchases you make, which helps with the maintenance of this blog. Read our Privacy Policy page for more information. Thank you!
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Functional Neurological Disorder (FND) is a "condition in which there is a problem with how the brain receives and sends information to one or more parts of the body" ((National Library of Medicine [NLM], 2024). From moving to walking, speaking, and even feeling and thinking — the impacts of FND range far and wide within the human body (Massachusetts General Hospital, n.d.).
In addition, FND can branch out into subtypes, such as functional seizures and Functional Movement Disorder (FMD). FMD in itself can be further classified into different types based on diagnostic features, including dystonia, jerks, tremors, a disruption to gait and balance, limb weakness and/or other generic motor dysfunctions (Hallett et al., 2022).
All combined, this makes FND challenging to diagnose, with no one-size-fits-all treatment plan.
For this guest post, Liam will share his personal experiences with FND — from his initial diagnosis, to how he's living with it today. On a side note, I am happy to have another male voice on the blog, as I personally believe that there are not enough perspectives and resources by and for them out there. FND in itself predominantly affects females as well at 60 to 80% (Hallett et al., 2022).
Without further ado, let's read what Liam has to say below!
When I was a child, I acquired a debilitating chronic illness that would have a major impact on my life for years to come. I went from being a healthy child to one who couldn’t move or even speak. FND suddenly took my mobility and speech and placed me in a wheelchair, then caused me to become bedridden and locked inside my own mind and body.
My name is Liam, and I’ve been battling with FND since 2016, when I was 13 years old. This is my story which I’m pleased to be sharing with A Chronic Voice.
I personally had severe FND, and my symptoms were mainly in the form of paralysis, cognitive and speech problems. My physical and cognitive skills deteriorated to the point where I had all my abilities taken away from me.
Within a few days, I had lost my ability to walk and talk, and was rushed to hospital. The doctors were baffled by my mystery illness, and said that I had an unknown disorder. They even filmed my case for medical research for universities around the world. I had so many scans, tests and medical procedures, yet all the results came back as "normal".
I had to leave school as it wasn’t safe for me anymore, due to my sudden deterioration. I don’t remember the early days of my illness, and life before it is a blur.
After spending 4 months in the hospital, I was finally diagnosed with severe Functional Neurological Disorder. I had at least 20 health professionals involved in my care from across different specialties.
For 6 months my mind was blank, and I didn’t know what or who anything was. As my brain's function improved slowly, it was then that I could understand what was happening to me.
In the midst of regaining function, FND struck again, causing me to lose the ability to sit up. I was given different types of wheelchairs, but nothing was suitable due to my deteriorating posture.
It got to the stage where my body couldn't tolerate being on any form of equipment apart from my hospital bed. I was bedridden for 3 years and I felt trapped inside my own body, and uncertain about my future.
I wasn't able to talk for a whole year either, but slowly began to regain my voice with determination, and also with the support of my loved ones. The process was painfully slow, but I was determined. With the help of speech and language therapists, slowly but surely, my voice recovered fully.
During the time when I was bedridden, I found comfort in a few things, one of which was London. I saw London on the TV one day while I was bed bound, and thought that I would love to visit it one day. Severe FND meant that I wasn't well enough to go, but it became a dream of mine regardless.
The CAMHS (Child and Adolescent Mental Health Service) and a specialist team from Great Ormond Street Hospital created a progress chart that would help motivate me to achieve my dreams. I would get a point on the chart whenever I moved an arm or finger, which meant that I was one step closer to achieving my wishes.
After 3 long years, my body felt less stiff as my FND started to improve. I had to relearn how to move my arms and managed to do so within a few months, which was a huge milestone for me.
Next, I had to learn how to sit up on my own again. One morning, when my back didn't feel as "locked" and stiff, I was transferred to the specialist tilt-in-space wheelchair. This is a special wheelchair where the seat and backrest can be adjusted to different angles, and is used for many different rehabilitative purposes (Giesbrecht et al., 2011; Zemp et al., 2019). Even though I could only lift my head slightly above my knees, it was a huge achievement.
I was transferred to the chair every day for 10 minutes, which was the maximum amount of time my body could tolerate sitting. I would then need to lie down in bed again. However, just being able to sit in the chair for 10 minutes was another huge milestone. Before that, I wasn't able to tolerate sitting on anything for even one second. Slowly but surely, my body regained strength, and I could tolerate sitting in an upright position after many months.
At this juncture, I was given a new wheelchair. It was a tilt-in-space one that had self-propelling wheels, so I could wheel myself if I was able to. My first outing in years was to go and collect it from the hospital. It was only the hospital, but to me, it felt like a whole new world ready to explore.
I tasted freedom at last, after having been trapped inside my own body and bedridden for so long. This was now my new life — learning to live with FND. I could no longer remember what the world was like before my FND diagnosis, but I now looked at it differently through the lens of a wheelchair user.
When I was well enough, I achieved my dream of visiting London. It is my favourite place, and I’ve been back many times since. It was everything as I had seen, heard and imagined it to be. I love everything about the city — all the buildings, statues, views and more. My next wish is to visit Cyprus.
9 years on from my life-changing illness, I’m learning to walk again. I still have difficult days, but I’m determined to raise awareness about Functional Neurological Disorder and not let it define me.
I'm now committed to living my life to the fullest despite my chronic illness. I've discovered a new purpose in raising awareness about FND. I'm grateful for the progress I've made and excited for what’s to come. I'm not letting my FND define me — I'm living life on my own terms.
Despite the harrowing experiences with severe FND where it took my voice, body and freedom, I found the strength and resilience to fight through it from somewhere within. It’s been a long, painful and isolating journey, but I’m learning to live with FND — and I’m determined to never give up hope for the future. I believe that even when all feels lost, you can still find a way forward. If you’re living with FND, know that you are not alone.
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I'm Liam Virgo, and my life took an unexpected turn in 2016 when I was just 13 years old. I was diagnosed with severe Functional Neurological Disorder and became bedridden. It's been a challenging journey, but I'm determined to live life to the fullest. My condition may have taken away my mobility and speech, but now it's also given me a voice to speak up about FND. Connect with me on Instagram.
*Disclaimer: This article is meant for educational purposes, and is based on my personal experiences as a patient. I am not a doctor, and nothing in this article should be substituted for medical advice. Please consult your own doctor before changing or adding any new treatment protocols. This post may also contain affiliate links. It will cost you nothing to click on them. I will get a small referral fee from purchases you make, which helps with the maintenance of this blog. Read our Privacy Policy page for more information. Thank you!
Personally, I'm surprised that these old website bones are still holding up, what with the advancements in technology and gaudy new AI trinkets!
Regardless, I wanted to migrate the website to another platform for a few reasons:
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The website is now hosted on Ghost Pro, which is perfect for a small blog like mine. The migration process was a lot more work than I had anticipated, as the import function in Ghost is pretty barebones.
I did a mega spring cleaning of all 300+ posts plus pages on the website. You don't need to be a web expert or writer to know that what was written 10 years ago is probably cringe-worthy by now, both in terms of technicality and writing style.
What this means for you — many posts from the archives have been updated with new (hopefully wiser 😆) perspectives. So even if you've read a post before, you can read it again 😉
I had originally wanted to delete all my monthly writing prompt entries as well, as they don't provide much value in terms of SEO. But as I was going through them, I realised that they are in fact, a treasure trove of memories. Many of the posts brought a smile or tinge of sadness to my face.
I have housed them all under a new ‘Diary Entries’ page here. When you get tired of reading 'science-y' articles, perhaps you can break the monotony up with more freeform, emotion-filled articles 🙂
Thank you for reading this lengthy welcome message, and why not take a peek at the new website here? 🙂 I wish you a lovely week ahead and thank you for being a part of this community!
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I was reading this post the other day, and realised that I had originally written it 10 years ago. Back then, I was 'only' seeing around 10 different types of doctors on a regular basis.
Now, the body count has increased to 15 - which excludes other healthcare professionals who aren't technically considered doctors, but still important players on my medical team (such as my dietitian and physiotherapist). Then there's also the other medical specialists I see on a less frequent basis. Needless to say, I had to update the post.
*Disclaimer: This article is meant for educational purposes, and is based on my personal experiences as a patient. Whilst I have done my best to be meticulous in research, I am not a doctor, and nothing in this article should be substituted for medical advice. Please consult your own doctor before changing or adding any new treatment protocols. This post may also contain affiliate links. It will cost you nothing to click on them. I will get a small referral fee from purchases you make, which helps with the maintenance of this blog. Read our Privacy Policy page for more information. Thank you!
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Autoimmune diseases are a complex beast (Global Autoimmune Institute [GAI], n.d.); like a hydra with poisonous heads that have the ability to regenerate and multiply as comorbidities. No two patients are the same; we share the same illness only by namesake.
There is no go-to medication to treat them, such as antibiotics for a common flu. Every patient's cocktail of drugs is obtained from years of trial and error, and also with much blood, sweat and tears. More often than not, such patients need to see many different types of doctors, due to the systemic nature of many autoimmune diseases (Shi et al., 2013). Personally, I need to see at least 15 different types of doctors on a regular basis.
As you well may know, the body operates as one unit. A dysfunction in one system can impact another, whether as a direct or indirect consequence. For instance, many autoimmune diseases manifest as problems within the oral cavity first (Saccucci et al., 2018), which may seem totally unrelated at first glance.
Various medical departments contribute their expertise to manage these symptoms as a whole. Following up with only one doctor is usually insufficient, even if they're knowledgeable within their specialty.
So for those who are wondering why we're scurrying off for yet another appointment (didn't she just see her doctor last week?!), or were curious as to what purpose each different type of doctor serves, here's a little peek into our lives.
Out of all the different types of doctors, my rheumatologist (American College of Rheumatology [ACR], n.d.) is hands down the most important specialist on my healthcare team. You probably have a go to primary care physician (PCP)/general practitioner (GP) whom you visit whenever you feel ill. For me, the equivalent is my rheumatologist.
This is because I have so many autoimmune diseases and comorbidities that are beyond what a GP can help me with. In fact, I hardly visit GPs anymore unless I know what I need from them specifically, such as medications for a cough. Otherwise, they usually just direct me to the nearest A&E out of fear.
My rheumatologist takes care of my autoimmune conditions together with me, namely Systemic Lupus Erythematosus (Lupus), Sjögren's disease and Antiphospholipid Syndrome. I see him the most frequently out of all my doctors, as we need to ensure that both the symptoms of these diseases, and also the medication side effects are all under control. Or as close to 'under control' as we can get them to be.
He is also the doctor who refers me to other specialists, should he suspect the involvement of a particular organ, or detects other problems. Perhaps he heard some unusual sounds gurgling in my heart, or found a mysterious lump on my foot. He then refers me to a cardiologist or foot surgeon respectively for further investigation.
Cardiologists are doctors who take care of the heart and the blood vessels related to it. They treat a variety of diseases such as heart attacks, atherosclerosis, heart valve problems and more (Cleveland Clinic, 2024a).
My rheumatologist first referred me to a cardiologist after he detected strange sounds coming from my heart about 15 years ago. The cardiologist then ordered an echocardiogram, which is an ultrasound test for the heart (Mayo Clinic, 2024). We learned that the mitral valve in my heart had prolapsed, and that the sounds were a result of blood leaking back into my lungs (National Heart, Lung, and Blood Institute [NHLBI], 2022).
I eventually needed to get a mitral valve repair (MVR) done at Cleveland Clinic in the U.S., as I was getting progressively breathless over a year. The repair was done using an annuloplasty band that's made of gore-tex material (Cleveland Clinic, 2021). I've had to see a cardiologist on a regular basis ever since, to monitor for any changes or new problems with my heart. (P.s. 15 years later, I now have mitral valve stenosis (Cleveland Clinic, 2023b), which will eventually require an open heart surgery).
Yes, I see two different types of doctors for my heart, who look after different aspects of the same organ. You may be surprised at how fine-grained all the different medical specialties can be!
And no, heart rhythms are not something my cardiologist knows too much about. It isn't because she is stupid; they are just a whole new ball game from heart valves. I guess you could view the cardiologist as a mechanic, and the heart rhythm specialist as an electrician. It is like the difference between the science of measuring electric currents, versus operation of the actual machine itself.
The mitral valve prolapse (MVP) I had probably led to the heart rhythm disorder/arrhythmia (Mayo Clinic, 2023). I have something called paroxysmal supraventricular tachycardia (PSVT), which causes my heartbeat to accelerate out of control when it falls into a wrong loop.
About a year after I was first diagnosed with Lupus, I was diagnosed with epilepsy, which is a neurological disorder that causes abnormalities in brain waves, which then trigger seizures (Epilepsy Foundation, n.d.). I was officially diagnosed with epilepsy after undergoing an electroencephalogram (EEG) test, which measures brain waves (Johns Hopkins Medicine, 2024).
Whilst the neurologist (University of Utah Health, 2021) claims that my epilepsy isn't related to my other chronic illnesses, I personally think that all my illnesses are connected or impact each other in one way or another. Out of all the medical specialisations, I have found neurology to require the most guess work as well, which just goes to show how much we still don't know about this super important organ.
What usually happens during my appointments with my neurologist is that I update him on my latest brain-related symptoms. This might be extra brain fog, visual field auras (Spencer, 2015), giddy spells brought about by buzzing sounds, or something else.
He then makes a conclusion based on my word, and adjusts my medications as needed. From there it is a waiting game until the next appointment, and the next. You need to be incident-free for at least two years before medications can be reduced, or subsequently stopped. I have yet to be off my medications after 15 years, as I still experience visual field auras on a weekly basis.
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I first started seeing a psychiatrist (American Psychiatric Association, 2023) after I begged my doctor to refer me to one about a decade ago. My steroid medications give me anxiety, but for the most part I just bore with it. I reached a breaking point when I caught tuberculosis (TB) however, as they had to double my steroid dose due to interactions with the TB meds.
The 30 pills I was taking every day wreaked unspeakable havoc on my mind and body. It also worsened my heart rhythm disorder, so I had to rush to the A&E every few days. I hardly saw anyone except hospital and medical staff for a year.
I was diagnosed with clinical depression and anxiety by the psychiatrist, which stemmed from both the TB and long-term steroid usage. I believe the chronic pain I experienced over the years was starting to take a heavy mental toll, too. She started me on an antidepressants which I need to take on a daily basis. She also gave me some 'emergency medications' for acute bouts of panic attacks.
If you live with chronic pain and have been wondering if you should see a psychiatrist (or another mental health professional) or not, the answer from me is a resounding "yes". Before I was put on antidepressants, I had no idea how out-of-whack my brain was, and that there were actually solutions. Whilst the medications do not remove the depression, anxiety or pain entirely, I have managed to return to a functional level because of them.
I actually don't see the mental health problems going away anytime soon, so I will need to see my psychiatrist regularly, too. In addition, she works in tandem with my neurologist, as some of the medications used can overlap with those for epilepsy.
Different states and countries have different requirements to be a clinical psychologist (Browne & Smith, 2019), so I'm just going to include them here on the list of different types of doctors I see.
Even though I was seeing a psychiatrist, I was curious as to what the difference was as compared to a psychologist (American Psychological Association, 2013). I wanted to know which specialty was more suited to my needs. What I learned instead is that a psychiatrist and psychologist have very different skill sets. Whilst they both deal with mental health issues, their approach and scope is very different.
I came to realise that I needed both a psychologist and psychiatrist on my healthcare team for that period of time. The psychiatric medications I was on helped to staunch the so-called 'mental wounds and infections', whereas the counseling sessions were the balm that soothed it, and aided with recovery.
I found the counseling sessions so helpful that I continued to see my psychologist on a monthly basis for quite some time, even after she told me that I didn't need her help anymore. Whilst I haven't seen a psychologist in years, I might be booking an appointment with a new one again soon. A myriad of new chronic illnesses and disabilities have pushed me to a new breaking point, one which I am having trouble coping with on all levels - physical, mental and emotional.
I truly wish that I were seeing a gynaecologist for pregnancy reasons, but unfortunately, it's because I've had two deadly ovarian cyst ruptures, no thanks to the medications I take for Antiphospholipid Syndrome. I met my current gynaecologist - who is a high-risk gynaecologist - in the hospital ward, after one of these near-death episodes.
Now, I have a birth control implant in my arm to prevent further episodes. These need to be changed only every 3 years, but I do see her more frequently than that as she also does my PAP smear and other tests related to women's health.
I was going for regular check ups with another gynaecologist (Gynaecologist Singapore, n.d.) previously, and had two dilation and curettage (D&C) procedures (Cooper & Menefee, 2023) done by her. (Needless to say, the jobs were poorly done, so I am seeing the other gynaecologist mentioned above instead now.)
Anyway, she sent me to a gynaecologic cancer specialist (Cleveland Clinic, n.d.), after we discovered two different types of precancerous cells that had spread all over my female reproductive system. It was critical to get checked asap as I was on immunosuppressants, meaning that the cells could spread more easily as compared to a healthy person.
The gynaecologic oncologist proceeded to cauterise these precancerous cells - both in my cervix (National Cancer Institute [NCI], n.d.), and on the surface of my skin (Cancer Research UK, 2023). I still need to follow up with him on a fairly regular basis, to ensure that these precancerous cells are not making a comeback.
On a side note, the original advice from my previous gynaecologist was to cut out my entire cervix. I was strongly against this, but am grateful that she was willing to put me in contact with someone else still. Bottom line is - always seek a second opinion before doing anything drastic. Different doctors even within the same specialty can have pretty extreme opinions; find one whom your research and gut instinct sits well with.
Ophthalmologists are medical doctors who "specialize in eye and vision care". They diagnose and treat various eye diseases and vision disorders, and also perform eye surgery if needed (Churchill & Gudgel, 2025).
I need to see an ophthalmologist on a yearly basis, as the medications I take to control the Lupus and Sjögren's can cause blindness, especially hydroxychloroquine. The medications can also lead to other eye problems such as cataracts and visual field defects (Hansen & Schuman, 2011).
I also have this "blind spot" in my left eye, which happened after the pulmonary embolism and multiple DVTs episode I had when I was 17. Whilst the ophthalmologist asks me every year if the blind spot is still there, they have yet to identify a problem within the eye itself, which leads me to believe that it is an injury within the brain of some sort.
They dilate your pupils with some eye drops during these eye checks so that they can examine them properly (American Association for Pediatric Ophthalmology & Strabismus [AAPOS], 2023). It is impossible to go back to work for up to 6 hours after even if I wanted to, as everything on my screen becomes too bright and fuzzy.
Whilst we should all see our dentists on a regular basis (National Commission on Recognition of Dental Specialties and Certifying Boards [NCRDSCB], n.d.), it is extra important for those of us with Sjögren's disease, as our salivary glands can dry out (National Institute of Arthritis and Musculoskeletal and Skin Diseases [NIAMS], 2024).
Apart from its role in lubrication and breaking food particles down, natural saliva also contains certain enzymes that has anti-infective properties (Tiwari, 2011). A dry mouth can lead to bacterial or viral infections, which then leads to gum or tooth decay if left untreated.
During bad flares from Sjögren's disease, I need to constantly rinse my mouth with Oral 7 moisturising mouthwash. I also smear the Oral 7 mouth gel all over the insides of my mouth before sleeping, which acts as a protective coating in place of natural saliva. It also lends brief relief from the discomfort of dryness, which can be more painful than you would imagine.
Apart from reasons related to Sjögren's disease, I also need to see my dentist for TMJ disorder and sleep bruxism (teeth grinding) issues (Nourish Dental Sleep & TMJ Care [NDC], 2025).
I have managed to break my molar tooth from bruxism before, and broke it again recently whilst chewing on some Christmas ham. Because of these issues, I had to have a customised mouth guard made by my dentist. I need to wear this to sleep every night to prevent yet more damage to my teeth. Fun times.
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I don't have to explain to you by now, but there are also a ton of specialties under orthopaedics (American Board of Orthopaedic Surgery [ABOS], n.d.). As a whole, they take care of the musculoskeletal system, which includes muscles, bones, tendons, ligaments, joints and other bits and pieces (Villa-Forte, 2025).
Orthopaedic surgeons tend to specialise on one particular area of the body; for example, the hand versus the feet or ankle. Ironically, my orthopaedic surgeon specialises in sports medicine, even though chronic illness and disability has made me less active. This is because sports injuries can be pretty violent, and my knees broke pretty violently by themselves. The incident rendered me disabled overnight, and left me bed bound for a year.
Whilst I need to see my orthopaedic surgeon on a less frequent basis now, he is still on my emergency to-dial list because my disabilities are kind of permanent. I can't squat or run anymore, and my knees feel like wooden blocks.
Gastrointestinal issues are a whole new minefield for me, one that I have no clue how to navigate yet. Like with many other chronic conditions, and like what the upper GI doctor said, symptoms and treatments are highly individual.
I recently had esophageal surgery done to 'fix' my esophageal diverticula issues that were causing regurgitation whilst sleeping. Unfortunately, the surgery seems to have opened new cans of worms. I now have Dumping Syndrome (Hui & Bauza, 2023), which affects the lower part of my digestive system, and also severe acid reflux (Pope, 1994), where I throw up non-stop at night.
It also seems like there isn't much they can do for me, except to add more medications to my already long list of daily medications. I am still experimenting with foods and medication dosages to see what works. This process can sometimes cause more pain, but I don't have any other choice but to try and figure it out.
Of all the clinics I have been to, this tends to be the one packed with the oldest folks. I first saw a colorectal surgeon (Cleveland Clinic, 2022) at the hospital for chronic rectal bleeding (Sabry & Sood, 2023) and haemorrhoids (Harvard Health Publishing, 2025). Visits tend to be quick (although you wait for hours) - a finger or tube up your bum, and he's done.
I also see a private colorectal specialist on the side, because when I get symptoms the pain is acute, and I need pain relief like yesterday. My private colorectal specialist also made some calls and we managed to get a biopsy done at the same time as my esophageal surgery. It was a good thing that we did, because we learned that I have AIN 3, which are precancerous cells (Cancer Research UK, 2025).
This means that I will definitely need to get surgery done at some point to remove them. It also means that I probably need to see a colorectal surgeon for life, to ensure that they don't recur.
I see a pulmonologist (Kimble, 2019) for several reasons. I have scarring in my lungs from various medical incidents - the pulmonary embolism at 17, the bout of tuberculosis, and also from chest tube insertions and lung infections due to various surgeries.
I follow up with the respiratory medicine department on a fairly regular basis now, to ensure that any current defects are not becoming abnormal. Or more abnormal.
Infectious disease doctors specialise in diseases that can spread to others. This includes a wide range of diseases, including but not limited to: HIV, measles, tuberculosis, COVID-19, and certain bacterial infections (Cleveland Clinic, 2023a).
I need to follow up with my infectious disease specialist on a fairly regular basis, just to monitor certain latent but permanent illnesses. (Don't worry, they're not that easily spreadable or they would have locked me up by now.)
My rheumatology nurse clinician works in tandem with my rheumatologist, and does a lot of work behind the scenes. These nurses follow up on problems of a smaller scale, or of a more predictable or routine nature. For example, I always see my rheumatology nurse clinician before and after surgeries to titrate my warfarin and clexane doses (anticoagulant medications).
Physiotherapists are not medical doctors, but they do work closely with various surgical departments in order to rehabilitate patients. I was only allowed to start physiotherapy 6 weeks after the knee surgery, and by then most of my leg muscles had already wasted away.
Increasingly, patients who are going for planned surgeries need to go for prehabilitation, too. The physiotherapy's role is to help the patient build up their strength with the aim of a faster recovery post surgery (Gillis et al., 2022). I last saw a physiotherapist for this reason a few months ago.
If I wanted to, I could probably request for a new referral to gain access to their specialised services and gym equipment needed to work out safely.
A dietitian (Cleveland Clinic, 2024b) is not a doctor, but they are still a key part of my healthcare team. My dietitian works with my upper GI doctor, with the combined aim of reducing my symptoms through dietary changes. They also monitor my weight to ensure that I am within a healthy range.
Personally, my dietitian has been more enlightening than my upper GI surgeon thus far, in terms of tips on how to manage the Dumping Syndrome and acid reflux issues. My surgeon simply prescribed medications 🤷🏻♀️
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As anyone with a chronic illness can testify, many of our symptoms can come and go in the blink of an eye. Often there is no explanation, and doctors are just as confused. The conclusion is always that it is an 'idiopathic condition', or a 'birth defect'.
As a result, I have seen hand surgeons, urologists, haematologists, sleep specialists (somnologists) and many other medical specialists. I have even sought out various doctors within the same field for second, third and forth opinions. It is amusing how much an opinion can cost, seeing that they are often unwanted on a regular day.
Apart from medical doctors, many patients with chronic illness and disabilities also need to work with other health-related specialists for various reasons. A few examples are: a physical therapist to help with pain management, or an occupational therapist to improve home accessibility.
The next time someone says that they have a chronic illness or disability, know that they often see more than just one doctor. Medical appointments can feel like a full time job on some days, and eat into your entire day.
I've spent up to 6 hours just waiting for medical test reports, appointments and to collect medications. It's worse at the Accident & Emergency (A&E), where it can take days to get a bed should you need to be warded.
I hope that this post has been insightful as to why people with chronic illness and disability need to see so many different types of doctors on a regular basis. Each of our 'doctor mix' can also vary greatly. Some of us see the same type of specialist for different reasons, too. This goes to show just how complex both chronic illnesses and medical specialties can be.
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So your friend with chronic illness has rejected your party invitation…again. Or they’ve included a list of T&Cs just in case they have to bail last minute. What’s up with that? Do they hate you or something? I booked a champagne brunch the other day for the boy’s birthday and thought, why not use it as a real life example to provide insight? Shall we go through the experience together?
*Disclaimer: This article is meant for educational purposes, and is based on my personal experiences as a patient. I am not a doctor, and nothing in this article should be substituted for medical advice. Please consult your own doctor before changing or adding any new treatment protocols. This post may also contain affiliate links. It will cost you nothing to click on them. I will get a small referral fee from purchases you make, which helps with the maintenance of this blog. Read our Privacy Policy page for more information. Thank you!
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I got lucky with this booking. It was only on one specific date, the prices were reasonable, and it had magnificent views on the 43rd floor! I was anticipating his happiness, which fueled my excitement. I checked the date again – perfect. It wasn’t around the ‘bad weeks’ of my period, where extra inflammation occurs.
I started to keep a close watch on my INR using my blood test machine, and adjusted my diet to maintain an optimal range. If I was going to consume alcohol, I had to make sure that my blood wasn’t too thin, and this does not change overnight. Sometimes I need to avoid leafy greens for a while to normalise it (you heard me right).
I made sure that I had enough exercise, especially the day before the champagne brunch itself. That always seems to help take some stress off my body from alcohol consumption. I braced myself for one to two weeks of downtime and possible pain, as alcohol and inflammation go hand in hand.
And so the big day arrived. I pricked my finger and checked my INR again – all good. Of course, if my blood had been too thin, I would have steered clear of the alcohol. My boyfriend did not force me to drink; it was my decision to celebrate with him. I mean, I do want to have fun and feel like a ‘normal person’ from time to time, too.
I took a sip of champagne to judge its effects. It was delicious, but I started to feel dizzy and ill after only half a glass. So I slid it across the table to the birthday boy, and switched to red wine. I wondered where the inflammation would strike first; it is always a lucky draw.
You have heard the word ‘inflammation’ mentioned a few times by now. What does it mean in this instance? They usually appear as angry red swells that can clump up on any body part. I’ve had big lumps on my forehead before (who knew there were so many blood vessels between that flat patch of skin and skull?!). It struck like clockwork after two hours. The swollen wrist I had from the day before was now a bloated, unbendable chunk of meat. The muscles in my upper arms started to throb with aches, and I had mild vertigo.
A sudden wave of nausea struck me when we stood up to leave. Descending 43 floors wasn’t much fun. Thank goodness there was no one else with us, as I looked unglamorous squatting in my dress. I had forewarned my boyfriend that we might have to hop into a cab straight home after, and this was exactly what happened.
I passed out in bed the moment we got home, and this was just from 2.5 glasses of wine! I was experiencing nausea and swelling without any of the happy effects. That was a bit upsetting, especially after all my careful planning. If I am going to feel sick, at least let me have a bit of fun! 😉
I had ran through all the possible scenarios in my head, but wasn’t prepared for the internal inflammation that occured this time. It did cause me to panic a little, as my stomach felt bloated and swollen for days. I worried about internal bleeding, so I kept a close eye on all my vital signs and daily activities. That might sound a bit paranoid, but as someone with multiple chronic illnesses, it doesn’t take much to trigger a catastrophe.
I spent the following day in bed unwell, and utilised whatever energy I had to make a simple stew for dinner. It soothed the stomach to my relief, as that was a sign that there were no blockages from gut swelling. I recovered after a few slow days, which was a pleasant surprise. I had actually set aside and been prepared for up to two weeks of discomfort.
You might have been muttering expletives whilst reading this piece. Or you might be judging me now for my incredible stupidity. Why would I even do that, especially when I knew the possible consequences?! Well, I do it for the exact same reasons as anyone else – to have a good time! And I do enjoy getting involved in the ‘normal world’ once in a while.
It is pretty hit or miss with me when it comes to alcohol, so I save these wildcards for special occasions with my favourite people. On the good days, I actually have a lot of fun, although the downtime is the same. You can imagine the level of exhaustion a ‘relaxing’ Friday night out might bring. The pain and fatigue might even last throughout the whole of the next work week.
Would I do it again? Without a doubt! It’s fun and I get to bond with people in a different way. It just requires a lot of planning, and willingness to take some damage (not recommended during bouts of bad flares!). I have also decided long ago that keeping myself in a bubble isn’t exactly being alive either.
Am I advocating for you to go wild and party hard? Of course not. All I wanted to do was use a single experience to illustrate the amount of effort it can take for us to socialise. ‘Casual’ barbeque events have cost me just as much energy and pain. What I am saying is – have some fun if you can, your way!
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Sometimes we take the risks knowing what will happen because we want to feel normal for a bit. I don’t drink much and can’t drink wine at all, yet on Christmas, I decided to do a brunch, had white wine, and didn’t even recognize myself. What a mess afterwards! But I had fun and for once in 2020, I felt normal. This Saturday I’m having a small afternoon get-together with some friends for my birthday. I am going heavy on the cake and will likely stick to a glass or two of beer because it doesn’t seem to hit me as hard. But the upper arm pain and swollen stomach and everything else you’ve mentioned here – it never fails! So frustrating! (But I’m still planning on enjoying that time!)
For me, sugar seems to be the enemy — it makes me fatigued and my joints hurt more. I wish I had more energy. I do reiki and that’s a big help. Sheryl, you sound like you’ve had a rough road. Have you asked your angels for help? Clean diet is a big deal. Good luck to you,
Hi Ann,
Yes I believe sugar does play a big role, but I do have a sweet tooth 😡
I am glad reiki works for you. Thank you for taking the time to read and comment! 🙂
You have a different set of health conditions than I do, and therefore very different symptoms, but I still recognize myself in this. I have to spend days — sometimes weeks — gearing my body up for a special event, and sometimes I run into huge problems no matter how well I’ve planned and prepared. But yes, absolutely, it’s worth it to get out of the house, see some friends, have whatever fun my body will allow. Even when I’m laid up for days afterward, it’s worth it.
Dear Amy,
Thank you for taking the time to read and comment 🙂
And I’m glad you understood the message I was trying to get across with this article,
as there has been some backlash on other channels that focussed on the alcohol aspect of it.
But just this week I went to visit a friend and her kids, and am now paying for it just the same 😉
I hope you get more good days than bad for the rest of the year.
Wishing you lots of inspiration for your photography and writing. Keep it up! 🙂
Dating with chronic illness is no easy, straightforward feat for either party. Questions like this are all over Quora and Reddit: “Would you date or marry a person with chronic illness?”. So I thought I’d share my perspective, as a person who’s chronically ill and disabled. Over the years, I’ve been in long-term, short-term and even long-distance relationships. I’ve also tried various dating apps, and met partners through friends. I much prefer the latter, but it does get harder the older you get!
P.s. The original version of this post was published on 26 February, 2017 (8 years ago!). More insights into dating, relationships, self-worth, disability and chronic illness have been added 🙂
*Disclaimer: This article is meant for educational purposes, and is based on my personal experiences as a patient. I am not a doctor, and nothing in this article should be substituted for medical advice. Please consult your own doctor before changing or adding any new treatment protocols. This post may also contain affiliate links. It will cost you nothing to click on them. I will get a small referral fee from purchases you make, which helps with the maintenance of this blog. Read our Privacy Policy page for more information. Thank you!
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I’ve been fortunate enough to have had relationships with partners from extreme ends of the spectrum. It gives me insight into different perspectives, which enables me to identify and appreciate certain characteristics better. Their opinions about our future together were diverse, and so were their attitudes towards my daily health struggles. Before going further, I’d like to state that the purpose of this article isn’t to bash anyone at all. Everyone is entitled to how they want to live their lives, and who they want to do that with, for better or for worse.
My first relationship was with a guy whose greatest desire was to start a family of his own, and it troubled him that I never seemed to get better. He did not like the open-ended, variable timetable of my chronic illnesses. Neither did he want to start with a ‘deficit’ before even trying for a child.
I underwent a few surgeries whilst we were dating, and he felt tormented that he could do ‘nothing’ to make it better. Yet, he never provided any emotional support, and would often bail out on the bad days. I ended up having to be stronger for him, because ‘it was difficult for him too’. I would always give in to him, because I thought that I had less rights to my own opinions. It was already a burden for someone to be with me, what more could I ask for?
I’ve also dated men who were willing to try things out for a couple dates, but who were constantly analysing my limits. This isn’t too fair in my opinion for several reasons. First, I have good and bad days, and you might be seeing me during a bad week. Second, and this is applicable to healthy individuals, too – it takes a bit of time to truly know who a person is, both the good and bad. Third, their assessment of my capabilities is usually inaccurate, because it tends to be biased. Unfortunately, when you’re chronically ill or disabled, people tend to hyperfocus on the limitations and judge you more keenly and immediately.
Then there are those dates where they see me arrive with a walking stick on a bad day. We have a short, polite chat, before they run for the hills and hide themselves behind a wall of silence. Whilst this feels unpleasant, I have learned to accept that it’s all part of the dating game, sick or otherwise.
There was a period of time I said to myself, “well, let’s wait for all the married men to get divorced. They should be wiser and more open-minded now, and realise that there’s more to a relationship than chronic illness”.
This turned out to be false. I obviously can’t speak for all divorced men, but the ones I have personally interacted with were fairly extreme. They were either paranoid (“you haven’t replied to my message in 24 hours, even though there are two blue ticks!”), or fixated on a certain ideal (hyperfocused on a singular quality, to the exclusion of all other qualities). Chronic illnesses still bothered most of them. Divorced men are not necessarily wiser than an unmarried person. They are still human, with strengths and flaws alike.
My next partner always saw the future in a hopeful light, and went with the flow of life. For example, he believes that healthcare and medicine can only improve as more scientific advances are being made. He saw me at my worst, yet never once treated me as a lesser human being.
I know for sure that life will never be easy with me, yet it was a non-issue to him. He claims that there is nothing wrong with me at all, and that I didn’t affect his lifestyle. Another revelatory phrase he made was that every relationship has its own set of problems anyway, whether the partners were sick or healthy. (You can read more brilliant utterances about relationships he made in this post.)
I found that I grew with him as a person, because of his support to the very end. He never undermined any desire I had for education, which comes in many forms. Apart from the intellect, it also consists of life skills, hobbies, and most importantly, self-awareness.
Mental and invisible health issues are often seen as suspicious in the eyes of the public, but I never felt stigmatised by him. I could display my psychological and physical pains at the level of torture that they were truly at. That brought so much relief - just to have someone who believes you, and who never belittles the impact your experiences have on you.
Whilst we have broken up, we are still friends, and I visit him and his family every Christmas. I am genuinely happy for him, because I believe people like him truly deserve the best that life has to offer.
If there’s one I’ve learned over the years from dating as a person with chronic illness, it is to have some respect for myself. If I were dating someone who treated me with contempt, resentment or blame, then I – a person with chronic illness and disability – would leave them.
With age, experience and the freedom I have had to grow, I’ve learned that I am worth just as much as any other person out there. So what if my illnesses are permanent? There is only one me amongst the billions of us on this planet, and we are all worth something in that regard.
In fact, an aura of quiet self-confidence and knowing your inherent self-worth can be attractive traits to potential partners. You are as deserving of love as any other human being; we are all part of the same world, and return to dust just the same.
There is no doubt that a person with chronic illness will need more help than someone who is healthy just to get by. Many situations might test your patience, question your love and flirt with your morality. In modern day culture, independence is a revered trait, and we like to think that we are independent beings.
But that is not how humanity has thrived over the centuries. We are social creatures built for community. It is an important aspect of social well-being. Yes, even introverts need a touch of human connection every now and then, in order to thrive.
And no human being is truly independent, anyway; just cut off their oxygen supply for a minute. We all depend on something to survive and thrive – a relationship with a chronically ill or disabled person also has the potential to help you develop as a person, and to live a fulfilling life ultimately. Perhaps even more so, because it will force you to reflect on your priorities, purpose and goals in life more than you would otherwise.
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To be honest, after having faced several life-and-death situations, I’ve become more stoical than I already was to begin with. Acceptance took me years to grasp, and I often need to learn to accept a new diagnosis all over again. However, I will vouch that it is the best coping tool and strategy that has enabled me to live my life, despite chronic illness. And if we’re being completely honest here, I am still grieving the loss of function in my knees. Grief and acceptance are two sides of the same coin; they come and go like visitors, and are not linear processes.
I actually adopt this mindset of acceptance when I approach relationships and dating with chronic illness as well. “Whatever will be, will be”, “que Será, Será”. For example, I never worry if my partner is going to cheat on me. If they do, then I will just up and leave – obviously it wasn’t meant to be.
Interestingly, this bothered a boyfriend, as he assumed that it meant that I didn’t like him enough to care. However, I’ve dealt with way more harrowing experiences, so I consider many everyday problems as trivial. You could say that it’s a bit like scar tissue – tougher, but less sensitive, which can be both a good and bad thing.
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Whilst it is true that anyone can become disabled at any time, this fact doesn’t sink into healthy people’s brains regardless. I can’t blame them for that, as the devastation of chronic illness and disability is impossible to grasp, unless you live that reality yourself. Humans are also wired for self-preservation. This means that they instinctively avoid things that may contribute towards the eradication of their lives or legacies.
If I’m going to be logical, health is wealth. Who doesn’t want to be healthy? So yes, we are starting out with a deficit in life. However there is an extremely fine line between worth1 and worth2 that people often confuse. What do I mean by that? This statement from Positive Psychology helps to clarify it a little:
“Self-esteem is what we think and feel and believe about ourselves. Self-worth is recognizing ‘I am greater than all of those things.’ It is a deep knowing that I am of value, that I am loveable, necessary to this life, and of incomprehensible worth.”
In brief, people often confuse self-worth – where every human being is inherently valuable, and deserving of love and respect – with material or tangible value. It’s an issue of feeling secure or insecure. In a ‘modern’, capitalist era, it’s not that much of a shocker either, as we’ve been exposed to such ideals from our childhoods, and our parents may have even placed an emphasis on it.
The communication style, character, values, sense of humour and lifestyle of all the people I’ve dated were vastly different. So it’s been an interesting, though admittedly exhausting, ride thus far.
I also broke both my knees fairly recently, no thanks to Lupus and long-term steroid treatment, plus developed yet more chronic diseases. These unasked for additions have definitely made dating much harder, as my disabilities become more and more apparent. Sure, rejection from being chronically ill and disabled stings, but it’s also for the best. I would be walking on eggshells, if I were with a partner whom I had to constantly prove and pretend I was healthy to.
Here are a few of my personal golden rules, when it comes to dating with chronic illness and disability. Your list might look different, based on your own comorbidities, life experiences and personality.
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So, someone interesting has caught your eye. You think that they may be your ‘type’ of person. The ‘problem’? They have a long-term illness or disability. This section addresses some questions you may have, but are unsure who to ask, or if it’s appropriate to ask. I will try to be as unbiased as I possibly can.
This article is a sum of my experiences in regards to dating with chronic illness and disability thus far, but the story hasn’t ended yet. (Does it ever end, really?) I am still learning as I go along, and will add to this post should I gain any other insights.
I would also love to hear about your experiences in regards to dating with chronic illness or disability. What were your best and worst experiences, and why? If you’re happily married, how do you make it work? I would love to learn more from you as well!
And finally, if you’re an able-bodied individual, I’d love to hear your thoughts, questions and concerns as well. You can post an anonymous comment if that makes you feel more comfortable. I promise to be as open-minded and non-judgemental as I can. I believe in open, proactive discussion, as opposed to allowing misconceptions or fears to fester in the dark closet of your mind.
Happy dating to one and all - I hope you find your special person ♥️
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Whilst I haven’t heard much good news in a long time, I did not expect 2025 to be a harbinger of such terrible news. It seems like I will need to get two major surgeries done, one for a severe mitral valve stenosis, and the other for an epiphrenic esophageal diverticulum. Well technically, epiphrenic esophageal diverticula, since there are two of them. Oh, and I also broke my molar tooth on Christmas Eve, so that was a bonus.
*Disclaimer: This article is meant for educational purposes, and is based on my personal experiences as a patient. I am not a doctor, and nothing in this article should be substituted for medical advice. Please consult your own doctor before changing or adding any new treatment protocols. This post may also contain affiliate links. It will cost you nothing to click on them. I will get a small referral fee from purchases you make, which helps with the maintenance of this blog. Read our Privacy Policy page for more information. Thank you!
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To be honest, the diagnosis for epiphrenic esophageal diverticulum scares me more than the mitral valve stenosis, only because it’s so rare. In practice, esophageal diverticulum is divided into a few different types of classifications from an anatomical and etiopathogenic point of view (Constantin et al., 2023). They are also subdivided based on their location. WebMD summarises the different types of esophageal diverticula here, although the classifications can get even more fine-grained than that (Whitten, 2024).
However, from what I’ve gathered after reading multiple medical journals, there is currently no agreed upon standard for treatment. Classifications for the disease itself are not even ‘finalised’, so to speak. Meaning there is no handbook or protocol for doctors or surgeons to refer to for this condition, and it’s mainly ‘play by ear’. Both my surgeon and doctor at the hospital have only seen one case in their career.
I’ll talk about the stenosis in a separate post, as I would like to focus on my diagnosis and symptoms for epiphrenic esophageal diverticulum in this one. This post is part of a two-part series. I will share my personal experiences in this one; you can find more research and facts on esophageal diverticulum in this post.
I reluctantly admitted myself to the A&E/ER one evening, as my forearm was bloated and swollen. It felt like my skin was going to burst. The only reason I had gone to the A&E was because the GP had assumed it was an abscess.
The rheumatology team saw me the next day, whilst I was snoozing along the corridor of a random ward. They were collectively certain that it was a blood clot, considering I have Antiphospholipid Syndrome, a blood clotting disorder. A few scans and tests later, they were all surprised that it wasn’t a blood clot, neither was it a fracture.
They did however, find some liquid near my lung, and the outpouching characteristic of esophageal diverticulum. According to Constantin et al. (2023), “somewhere between 0.06 - 4% [of epiphrenic esophageal diverticulum] are discovered incidentally, radiologically”.
The swollen arm and liquid in the lung subsequently resolved on their own. In fact, when they wheeled me in to do a pleural biopsy, they wheeled me back out as the surgeon said that ‘there was nothing to biopsy’. This is why I rarely rush to the A&E for every pain, even if extreme. Living with chronic illness means constant pain, and the occasional weird symptom.
My own rheumatologist said that the esophageal diverticula probably have been there for some time. He also said it was probably unrelated to my other autoimmune diseases, though I really beg to differ. I personally think it doesn’t make sense that none of my long list of medical conditions are related.
According to Sato et al. (2023), the main symptoms of esophageal diverticulum are “dysphagia, regurgitation, weight loss, heartburn, respiratory complaints, and retrosternal pain when swallowing food”.
My own biggest problem was and is regurgitation, especially whilst asleep in the middle of the night. I wake to violent fits of coughing, as my esophagus tries to purge the food trapped within the pouches. Sometimes my throat is so irritated that I vomit. In fact, it happened twice again last night.
At first, I had simply assumed that it was GERD/acid reflux, as I am on long-term steroid therapy for Lupus and Sjögren’s disease. Plus I drink way too much coffee, and my eating habits are not the best (yes, sue me). When I received the diagnosis for epiphrenic esophageal diverticulum, everything made so much more sense.
Other symptoms I’ve had to date are: minor incidents of dysphagia (trouble swallowing food), and being really gassy. My digestive system makes a lot of weird noises, and I feel bloated and uncomfortable. These are sporadic with no fixed pattern. My doctor has said before that I probably have Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS) too, so I’m not sure what’s triggering what. Chronic illness comorbidities are fun like that.
In addition, my throat often feels scratchy, as if there are tiny specks of food trapped within it, plastered to the ‘walls’. There are ‘better’ and worse days as well. On the ‘better’ days, the symptoms are mostly quiescent with some minor coughing. On bad days, that ‘stuck’ feeling is there for almost 24 hours, and I am unable to eat without vomiting.
The symptoms rapidly became worse over time. I am now being involuntarily woken almost every night by violent coughing, regurgitation and vomiting. On a ‘better’ night, I wake once or twice. On a ‘bad’ night, that would be at least every 2 hours.
Combine that with horrendous chronic urticaria that antihistamines barely alleviate, it means that I hardly get a good night’s sleep. In fact, that happened again last night, as I was up until 6am scratching and coughing.
Unsurprisingly, this isn’t great for my physical or mental health, as I feel extremely frayed at the edges, and completely worn out. What sort of life is this, if I am in pain and discomfort both day and night? What makes it even more depressing is that there is no medication to even relieve some of the symptoms either.
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This section covers more about epiphrenic esophageal diverticulum specifically. You can read the research post for more information about esophageal diverticulum in general.
My two diverticula are mainly epiphrenic in nature (towards the tail end of the esophagus), although one is slightly higher up. Out of the various types of esophageal diverticulum, epiphrenic esophageal diverticulum comprises less than 10% of all cases, with an estimated incidence of 1:500,000 per year (i.e. 1 out of half a million people) (Abdollahimohammad et al., 2014). The most common is Zenker’s diverticulum, which occurs at the top end of the esophagus.
According to Alicuben et al. (2023), patients with epiphrenic esophageal diverticula are symptomatic only about 10% to 20% of the time. Symptoms tend to begin when the diverticulum becomes bigger than 5cm (Abdollahimohammad et al., 2014).
Having said that, both my epiphrenic esophageal diverticula are a little smaller than 5cm, and I have been progressively symptomatic. I’m unsure if that’s good or bad luck. Good because I guess, well, treating something earlier is usually better than later. Bad because the symptoms are obviously not fun.
Many symptoms of epiphrenic esophageal diverticulum are similar to other gastrointestinal and common medical conditions, such as acid reflux or side effects of NSAIDs. As a result, many patients with epiphrenic esophageal diverticulum are diagnosed late, which can lead to further complications, such as “gastrointestinal bleeding, aspiration pneumonia or cancer” (Conklin et al., 2009).
The incidence of cancer in patients with epiphrenic esophageal diverticulum is around 0.3% to 3%, and it is often at an advanced stage when discovered (Conklin et al., 2009; also see: Hjern et al., 2015). According to Constantin et al. (2023), there is also the risk of developing esophageal cancer, around 10 years after symptomatic esophageal diverticulum.
According to Constantin et al. (2023) there is “no correlation between size and retentive character” for epiphrenic esophageal diverticulum in particular. That means that food and liquid can get stuck regardless of the size of the epiphrenic esophageal diverticulum, to give rise to symptoms.
In addition, “one of the early signs of food stasis in a pharyngeal-ED [esophageal diverticulum] is the appearance of hydro aerial noises when ingesting fluids”. As a result of food stasis, sialorrhea (hypersalivation) occurs (Constantin et al., 2023).
After reading that, I wondered if my drooling at night is a consequence of the epiphrenic esophageal diverticula. But as I need to wear a mouthguard for bruxism and TMJ disorder issues as well, I suppose it could be multifactorial.
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After the incidental finding of the epiphrenic esophageal diverticulum, I was scheduled for a barium swallow test. This is one of the more definitive tests for esophageal diverticulum, and also certain motility disorders such as achalasia (Sudarshan et al., 2021).
I was made to drink a chalky liquid at intervals, as the medical team watched and timed the flow under fluoroscopy (a type of x-ray that shows the movement of organs in real-time) (National Library of Medicine, 2024). The mixture tasted quite nice to me, a bit like yoghurt, but don’t take my word for it as the technician said that no one else likes it. The doctors’ biggest concern was achalasia, which the team decided that I did not have based on the test. They were also able to measure the size of the diverticula and gather other information from the barium swallow test.
I will need to get surgery done in my surgeon’s opinion. Whilst it’s a fairly high-risk surgery, I am going to agree with him, as the symptoms are becoming unbearable and interferes with my life every day. Some preoperative tests will need to be done, namely an upper endoscopy and manometry.
Whilst the surgeon has said that the manometry might not be necessary since we’ll need to do a fundoplication (an anti-reflux procedure) during the Heller’s myotomy (surgery) regardless, I insist upon it. This is because epiphrenic esophageal diverticulum mostly stems from a motility disorder, so it is best to treat the underlying cause if so. Whilst the fundoplication might treat any existing motility disorder, I think it’s best to actually know what the disorder is, if there is indeed one.
According to Alicuben et al. (2023), “failure to identify and treat the underlying motility disorder during diverticulum resection has been associated with high rates of recurrence and leak along the staple line in the range of 10% to 20%.” They also state that, “specifically, failure to perform an adequate myotomy in such patients has yielded leak rates exceeding 25% when diverticulectomy alone is performed”.
As mentioned, there is no medication to help with symptom relief, and the doctors don’t have much clue about it either. The advice I was given by the gastroenterologist was rather generic, and there aren’t many tips online either. The closest I have found for managing epiphrenic esophageal diverticulum are general esophageal soft food diet tips.
A list of esophageal soft food diet tips can be found on the Cedars Sinai (2018) website, and includes: eating slowly in small amounts, chewing thoroughly, drinking fluids whilst eating to flush the food down, sitting upright whilst eating and up to 60 minutes after, avoiding food 3 hours before sleeping, avoiding caffeinated beverages, avoiding tough meats, abrasive foods and breads with chewy textures, and to stop eating when you start to feel satiated. This is pretty much what the gastroenterologist has advised me to do for symptom management of my epiphrenic esophageal diverticula.
You may or may not have trouble digesting food in and of itself with epiphrenic esophageal diverticulum. However, many of the symptoms mimic those of esophageal cancer or a motility disorder. Thus, many of the symptom management tips closely resemble these diseases. It also largely depends on your personal symptoms, how and when it affects you. For instance, regurgitation whilst sleeping is my biggest symptom, so my management plan might look different from yours, if you mostly get dysphagia instead.
Dietary changes and eating times are primary ones, however. According to Yam et al. (2023), “if patients are not surgical candidates, then management with diet changes such as eating bland food and drinking water after every bite to help flush any food out of the diverticulum is recommended”.
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It’s been a lot of trial and error for me, personally. I have a rough idea of which types of food cause the most damage, having learned the painful way. By sharing these personal experiences, I hope that it saves you some pain.
There are also a few things I want to try but have yet to do them regularly, so I’ll update the post after I’ve experimented with them a bit more. One thing I’d like to try is stretching to aid with digestion, and make it a nightly routine. It seems safe and simple enough to try and implement.
I rarely eat at regular timings, so I’m trying to work on that. I think it’s helped a little, mainly because there is less acid reflux, which can also contribute to irritation along the digestive tract - which includes the esophagus.
The most painful episode for me so far was eating a bag of risotto chips at night, because I thought that rice crackers would be less abrasive and easier to digest than potato or corn chips. I was proved so terribly wrong, as I was up all night coughing and vomiting every 2 hours, and even the entire day after as well. I now have a phobia of anything crunchy, and avoid them especially at night.
I’ve found that foods that are either crunchy or flaky to be the worst, and also anything with lots of ‘specks’ in it, such as black peppercorns.
I probably don’t have to explain ‘crunchy’ to you - stuff like crisps, deep-fried chicken and certain cereals. ‘Flaky’ includes bread, sugary candies like soan papdi (which I love), ginger slices, and basically anything that can be broken down into strips, if that makes sense.
Bread, especially sliced bread with lots of ‘air pockets’ tends to be the worst. This is because they get chewed up into tiny specks that ultimately become trapped in the pouches of the esophageal diverticula. I can feel them tickle at my throat, begging to be spat out. And when they refuse to budge, my body reacts and expels them via vomiting.
The suggestion to ‘eat bland food’ does not appeal to me in the least bit, because I have also developed a phobia after only eating bland food for months on end whenever hospitalised. I call it ‘sick people food’, and the thought makes me depressed. However, the pain and discomfort from the esophageal diverticula means that sometimes, that’s worth the sacrifice.
My sleeping hours are very irregular, as one night of painsomnia can trigger a domino effect for days. So I tend to eat supper, especially if I hadn’t had much to eat earlier on in the day. Whilst the gastroenterologist did say not to eat 2 hours before sleeping, I find that I need to avoid eating right after dinner. It was difficult at first, because my body had been primed to want to eat at night. It’s much better now though. That little change does make a rather big difference.
I did try drinking fruit juice at night as I thought it was categorised as a ‘liquid diet’, but that didn’t work out too well for me at all. The fibre from the fruits tend to be like ‘strings’, so those get trapped in the esophageal diverticula pouches, too. According to Marcin (2024), such fruits are hard to digest because fibre “isn’t digested by your body”. Whilst the esophagus is technically before the digestive juices start their action, I guess this rule applies too, but in a different way. I’m learning as I go along.
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For more substantial meals, soups and stews (including stewed meat and vegetables), work best for me so far. As stews are boiled for a long period of time, this helps to break the food product down partially. In a gross metaphorical sense, they’ve been ‘pre-chewed’ a little to make things easier for you.
I eat less white rice than the average Asian, as it makes me feel quite bloated if I have too much of it. It is still a staple, and apart from bloating, doesn’t cause too much distress. I suppose that’s because they’ve been dehusked and are cooked, making them soft and less fibrous. Noodles and pasta are also okay in general, as once again, I guess it’s because they’ve been cooked at high temperatures.
Other foods I can tolerate with the epiphrenic esophageal diverticulum are: mashed potatoes, eggs, fish, spreads (like jams and compotes), any cooked meat or vegetable, and yoghurt. Things that are okay on the ‘naughty’ food list for me include: ice cream, marshmallow, bingsu (Korean shaved ice dessert), sorbet, jelly and custard.
Foods that cause me the most pain, in hierarchical order, include: crisps/chips, sliced bread, cookies and biscuits, and high-fibre fruits. Whilst some of these foods can be quite plain, remember that it isn’t so much that your stomach has trouble digesting them. Rather, the pouches from the esophageal diverticula trap some food products more so than others. The time of consumption matters as well. So if I want to try my luck eating one of these food items, it’s safer to try it as early on in the day as possible.
Northwest Minimally Invasive Surgery (2021) has an information page for patients who have had esophageal or stomach surgery, but the advice is pretty relevant for epiphrenic esophageal diverticulum, too. They state that “it is important that foods consumed be smooth in texture to facilitate the movement of food through the swollen areas of the esophagus or stomach. Bread products that can expand with fluid are avoided entirely”. They also have a list of foods allowed and foods to avoid that makes total sense to me. The list is similar on the Cedars Sinai (2018) blog about esophageal dietary guidelines as well.
I was suffering from two days of bloatedness and regurgitation a while back, and just randomly thought I’d try some magnesium. The justification being that magnesium is an essential mineral for the proper functioning of over 300 enzymes in the body, which includes muscle relaxation and digestion (Al Alawi et al., 2018).
I took a magnesium carbonate effervescent tablet, and was amazed to find that it helped to relieve the epiphrenic esophageal diverticulum symptoms a fair bit. I’m not sure how the esophagus is associated, but hey, it helped with some relief from two days of discomfort. Placebo or not, I’ll take it as a win, and something to add to my pain management toolkit. (I personally like the range of effervescent tablets from Voost.)
However, do note that this ‘trick’ isn’t fail-proof. Half the time it doesn’t work and I still wake up coughing and regurgitating. So I guess the magnesium simply aids with digestion and relaxation in general, which probably has an indirect effect on my body overall.
Interestingly, I did a search about it the next day, and found that magnesium supposedly helps some people who have achalasia. I couldn’t find any papers for it though, as esophageal diverticulum is a rare disease. Healthline has a list of the different types of magnesium supplements, which is interesting general knowledge (Hill, 2023).
Cough syrup also surprisingly seems to help with the non-stop coughing, even though it’s irritation from the esophagus, instead of the trachea/windpipe. I suppose it suppresses the urge to cough regardless? Having said that, both my parents are having an extremely bad cold and cough at the moment, so perhaps I’ve caught the bug, too. I’ll wait for a couple more weeks before concluding on the cough syrup relief.
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In sum, epiphrenic esophageal diverticulum is an extremely rare disease with limited research comparatively, so symptom and pain management are mostly through trial and error. Whilst it is not deadly in and of itself unless something rare happens (such as a rupture that will not stop bleeding), it tends to worsen over time. There is also a very small risk of esophageal cancer further down the road. It has definitely ruined my quality of life, especially with the regurgitation whilst sleeping at night. The dietary and lifestyle changes are annoying, because managing my other chronic illnesses is demanding enough.
Whilst I am certainly not looking forward to yet another high-risk surgery in a relatively short span of time, I really hope that I feel better after I recover from it. I’ve read a few Reddit threads on other patients’ experiences with Heller myotomy and fundoplication surgeries, and some of the aftereffects sound really painful and scary. But I guess I don’t really have much of a choice, do I?
If you’ve never had surgery or been chronically ill - the healing process is actually the worst, only because it’s the most boring, painful and helpless period. All you can do is wait for the pain to subside and the wounds to close, which can take months and sometimes, years. But I guess, hope for symptom relief is what keeps me, and others like me, going.
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Wow, Sheryl — this sounds just awful. Your diagnoses just keep piling up! And through it all, you have such a positive attitude and just keep learning and teaching others. I’m sorry you’re going through all this. I hope both surgeries are successful and bring you some relief (and don’t knock you down for too long).
Sue
Live with ME/CFS
Hi Sue, thank you for reading and checking in — I appreciate it 🙂 Yes, I think you know the drill, as someone who’s chronically ill too lol. They’re really eager to pile up, aren’t they?! Sending gentle hugs and hope you’ve been well too. Wishing you many more road trips to come!
The short answer is because I was recently diagnosed with it, although symptoms have been accumulating for some time now. I had simply assumed that all the regurgitation and vomiting, even in the middle of the night, were due to acid reflux.
If not for an admission to the A&E/ER for something completely unrelated, the doctors would never have found it. The esophageal diverticulum was an incidental finding after I did a CT scan. According to Constantin et al. (2023), “somewhere between 0.06 - 4% [of epiphrenic esophageal diverticulum] are discovered incidentally, radiologically”.
Anyway, I have decided to split this into a two part series. You can read about my personal experiences with epiphrenic esophageal diverticulum in this post, which details my struggles with it, and also things I’ve done to try and manage it. This post will focus entirely on research I’ve done thus far, as a patient.
*Disclaimer: This article is meant for educational purposes, and is based on my personal experiences as a patient. I am not a doctor, and nothing in this article should be substituted for medical advice. Please consult your own doctor before changing or adding any new treatment protocols. This post may also contain affiliate links. It will cost you nothing to click on them. I will get a small referral fee from purchases you make, which helps with the maintenance of this blog. Read our Privacy Policy page for more information. Thank you!
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In order to understand what certain terms mean and the implications of the different types of esophageal diverticulum, we first need to understand a bit about how the esophagus works. The esophagus is the “hollow, muscular tube that carries food and liquid from your throat to your stomach”, and is part of your digestive system (Cleveland Clinic, 2021b). It is approximately 9 to 10 inches long (23 to 25 cm).
The esophagus itself is made up of four layers - the mucosa, submucosa, muscularis and adventitia (Yam et al., 2023), and can be divided into three anatomical segments - cervical, thoracic and abdominal (Chaudhry & Bordoni, 2023).
The main function of the esophagus is to transport food from the mouth to stomach, and it does that through a series of muscular contractions known as peristalsis, which is an automatic wave-like movement that happens within the digestive tract (Chaudhry & Bordoni, 2023; Cleveland Clinic, 2022).
According to Nehra et al. (2022), “the proximal one-third of the esophagus is composed of striated muscle, the distal one-third is composed of smooth muscle, and the middle one-third contains a mixture of striated and smooth muscle”.
Peristalsis in the different muscle types is controlled by different types of neuronal activity. The lower esophageal sphincter is also made up of smooth muscle segments. This allows for the smooth passing of food into the stomach, and also prevents gastroesophageal reflux (Nehra et al., 2022).
Some other keywords in relation to the esophagus are:
Esophageal diverticulum is a rare disease with a prevalence of less than 1% globally (Yam et al., 2023). Patients with esophageal diverticulum have an outpouching within the esophagus, and the disorder is categorised based on anatomical location and type. ‘Diverticula’ is the plural term, where there are more than one diverticulum.
There are primarily three types of esophageal diverticula - Zenker’s, mid-esophageal and epiphrenic, running from top to bottom of the esophagus (Constantin et al., 2023).
Within the pharyngoesophageal space, they can be further categorised as - Zenker’s, Killian-Jamieson and Laimer’s, once again based on where they occur (Watanabe et al., 2023). Here is a great illustration that shows the differences between these three types of diverticulum, from a left lateral and posterior view (Zakaria & Barawi, 2020).
Then there is also a diffuse type, known as “diffuse intramural pseudodiverticulosis” (DEIPD) (Constantin et al., 2023), which is a “chronic, fibrosing inflammatory disease” (Hentschel, 2022). Iatrogenic diverticulum has also been added as a category recently. As its name suggests, it happens post treatment - peroral endoscopic myotomy (POEM)-type endoscopic therapy, in this instance. Such treatments are often used for late complications of achalasia (a swallowing disorder) (Constantin et al., 2023).
Whilst esophageal diverticulum is a rare disease, the most common tends to be Zenker’s diverticulum - the one that occurs at the top of the esophagus. Esophageal diverticula are also more commonly found in the elderly, and in men as opposed to women (Yam et al., 2023), so I guess that makes me one lucky dark unicorn again.
There are two ways that an esophageal diverticulum forms - pulsion or traction, with the former being more common. ‘Pulsion’ simply means pushing, whilst ‘traction’ means pulling. Therefore, pulsion diverticula push against the esophageal wall, whereas traction diverticula are ‘sucked in’, which lead to the formation of indentations in the esophageal wall (Cleveland Clinic, 2023).
According to Sato et al. (2019), pulsion esophageal diverticula form due to “inadequate relaxation of either the upper esophageal sphincter (UES) or the lower esophageal sphincter (LES), causing an increase of intraluminal pressure resulting in a herniation of the esophageal wall in an area of low parietal resistance”. Traction esophageal diverticula on the other hand, involves “adhesion and traction on the esophageal wall in the presence of a mediastinal inflammatory focus, resulting in the formation of a diverticular pouch”.
To simplify that explanation, a pulsion esophageal diverticulum is due to pressure within the esophagus. This leads to an abnormal bulge in the weaker areas of the esophageal wall. Traction esophageal diverticulum on the other hand, is caused by inflammation within the mediastinum. This pulling effect leads to the formation of pouches within the esophagus.
Esophageal diverticulum can be further classified as either ‘true’ or ‘false’. According to Yam et al. (2023), true diverticula involve all four layers of the esophageal wall, whereas only the mucosa and submucosa layers are involved in false diverticula.
True diverticula are caused by traction (pulling), whilst false diverticula by pulsion (pushing). In general, Zenker’s and epiphrenic diverticula are false diverticula, whilst mid-esophageal diverticula are true diverticula.
You can view the correlation between esophageal typography, anatomo-clinical criteria and etiopathogeny in Table 2 here (Constantin et al., 2023).
Figure 1 in this paper by Sudarshan and Murthy (2021) also provides an excellent summary of the three main types of esophageal diverticula. It includes their varying pathophysiology, presentations, work-up and management for easy comparison.
Finally, you can view some images of how various esophageal diverticula look like on Radiopaedia (Rezaee, 2024).
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According to Sato et al. (2023), the main symptoms of esophageal diverticulum are “dysphagia, regurgitation, weight loss, heartburn, respiratory complaints, and retrosternal pain when swallowing food”.
The ‘milder’ symptoms of esophageal diverticulum include an irritating sensation in the throat as if something is stuck there, a sore throat and halitosis (bad breath). As the diverticulum increases in size over time, it can lead to other complications as food gets stuck in the pouches. For instance, patients can get “esophagitis, bleeding from ulceration, impaction, and stasis with regurgitation” (Sato et al., 2023).
Aspiration pneumonia can also happen especially when a person is asleep, where regurgitated food gets inhaled into the lungs and becomes infected. Apart from gastric content, the aspirated fluid can also consist of oropharyngeal secretions and particulate matter (Sanivarapu et al., 2024).
Aspiration pneumonia is also one of my biggest fears, as regurgitation at night is one of my main symptoms. According to Thomas et al. (2001), other serious manifestations of esophageal diverticulum include: “acute dyspnoea and stridor from pulmonary displacement, cardiac tachydysrhythmias from atrial compression and diverticular rupture, and, rarely, tension pneumothorax”.
In sum, esophageal diverticulum can potentially affect your heart, lungs, and their surrounding structures, due to pressure and/or rupture. It can also give rise to heart rhythm issues.
Whilst the formation of ulcers rarely leads to perforation or bleeding, such events can be life-threatening if they do happen. In addition, atypical symptoms of esophageal diverticulum may remain unknown until surgery is being done (Thomas et al., 2001).
After that incidental finding of the esophageal diverticula from the CT scan, I had to go for a barium swallow test. The surgeon has also mentioned that I will need to do a manometry and endoscopy as pre-operative procedures.
This is in line with what I have read up thus far within the medical literature. According to Herbella and Patti (2012), the preoperative workup for esophageal diverticulum treatment includes: a barium swallow test, endoscopy, manometry, and pH monitoring if deemed necessary (also see: Thomas et al., 2001).
Let’s take a look at these tests used to diagnose esophageal diverticulum and motility disorders, to better understand why they’re important.
In order to clearly see and define the esophageal diverticulum, a barium swallow test (esophagram) (National Library of Medicine [NLM], 2024a) is usually carried out first. The patient will be made to drink a chalky liquid at intervals. This helps with the visualisation of the diverticulum by ‘highlighting’ it under fluoroscopy, which is a type of x-ray that shows the movement of organs in real-time (NLM, 2024b). From the test, your medical team will then be able to determine the size and location of the diverticulum, and also if they are on the right or left side of the esophagus (Sudarshan et al., 2021).
The information from the barium swallow test is important for determining the course of treatment, and type of surgical method to use. In general, surgery is avoided for asymptomatic patients due to the risks, although some surgeons think that it is still essential, as up to 45% of patients demonstrated aspiration (Sudarshan et al., 2021). Some also think surgery is necessary, due to the “risk of cancerization of the diverticulum mucosa or spontaneous rupture” (Sato et al., 2023).
In addition, a timed barium swallow test is able to detect certain motility disorders such as achalasia, as well as “associated conditions such as dysmotility, hiatal hernia, distal esophageal rings, and reflux” (Sudarshan & Murthy, 2021).
According to Gyawali et al. (2020), “esophageal manometry is generally considered the gold standard for the diagnosis of motility disorders”. It is important to get this diagnostic test done especially for epiphrenic esophageal diverticula, as these are often due to an esophageal motility disorder, such as achalasia or diffuse esophageal spasm (Alicuben et al., 2023).
The word “manometry” simply means a measurement of pressure. A tube will be placed down your nasal cavity and into your esophagus. Thereafter, you will be made to swallow water and/or other liquids of different consistencies, in various bodily positions (Cleveland Clinic, 2023).
A high-resolution manometry is usually recommended, based on the latest research (Sato et al., 2019). The difference between a regular and high-resolution manometry is that the latter uses more catheters (36 as opposed to 5), thus producing more accurate results (Yadlapati, 2017).
A preoperative upper endoscopy is essential for several reasons. First, to rule out other possible diseases (such as Barrett’s esophagus) or malignancies (cancers), and also to clear any debris stuck in the diverticula before surgery is done (Alicuben et al., 2023; Herbella & Patti, 2012).
There are a number of other disorders that can mimic an esophageal diverticulum, and vice versa. A differential diagnosis is essential to rule out such cases. This is simply a process that takes into account all possible diagnoses based on your individual symptoms, medical history, lifestyle and more (NLM, 2023). Additional tests may be done if deemed necessary. This helps your medical team to conclude with a more definitive diagnosis, and therefore, the treatment course to take.
For epiphrenic esophageal diverticulum, the differential diagnosis includes: “hiatal hernia, esophageal webs and strictures, esophageal duplication cyst, and esophageal carcinoma”. Other differential diagnosis of underlying causes should also be ruled out as well, such as: “achalasia, distal esophageal spasm, ineffective esophageal motility, esophagogastric junction outflow obstruction, end-stage gastroesophageal (GE) reflux disease with a "burnt out" esophagus, peptic stricture, or failed previous fundoplication” (Alicuben et al., 2023).
Whilst rare, it is also important to screen for malignancies (cancers). The incidence of malignancies from esophageal diverticula is 0.3% to 7% for pharyngoesophageal (which includes Zenker’s), 1.8% for midesophageal, and 0.6% for epiphrenic (Herbella & Patti, 2012).
As mentioned, motility disorders are often the underlying cause of esophageal diverticulum - particularly so in epiphrenic esophageal diverticulum. In fact, according to Thomas et al. (2001), one should still “remain suspicious” even if a motility disorder is not detected during medical investigations, as apart from achalasia, most of such disorders “occur intermittently and may not be evident during oesophagoscopy, contrast radiology or standard manometry”.
Studies have also shown that “more than 75% of epiphrenic diverticula occur concomitantly with esophageal motility disorders” (Sato et al., 2019). In one small study by Nehra et al. (2002), all their patients with epiphrenic esophageal diverticulum were found to have a motility disorder, using 24-hour ambulatory motility testing.
Achalasia has been mentioned numerous times in this post. Achalasia is a rare swallowing disorder that stems from damaged nerves in the esophagus, specifically in the lower esophageal sphincter. As a result, food and liquid are unable to move down to the stomach. How achalasia develops is still unknown, but has been purported to be autoimmune in nature (Cleveland Clinic, 2021a).
There are also different types of achalasia based on manometric patterns, namely: type 1 (classic), type 2, and type 3 (spastic). Type 1 achalasia has “minimal contractility in the esophageal body”, Type 2 has “intermittent periods of panesophageal pressurization”, and Type 3 has “premature or spastic distal esophageal contractions”. They also vary in immunohistochemical markers and histology (Patel et al., 2017).
Achalasia is also the most common motility disorder found in patients with esophageal diverticulum (Herbella & Patti, 2012). However, this is not the case in reverse. Less than 5% of patients with achalasia develop an epiphrenic esophageal diverticulum, with the exception of those with ‘vigorous’ achalasia, as more pulsion forces are involved (Thomas et al., 2001).
The second most common motility disorder found in patients with epiphrenic esophageal diverticulum is diffuse esophageal spasm (Herbella and Patti, 2012). This is characterised by “simultaneous, uncoordinated, or rapidly propagated contractions that are of normal amplitude and accompanied by dysphagia”. Once again, differential diagnosis is critical because there is a long list of disorders that resemble it (Goel and Nookala, 2023, July 2).
In one small study using high-resolution impedance manometry, other motility disorders associated with esophageal diverticulum include, in descending order of occurrence: esophagogastric junction outflow obstruction, jackhammer esophagus, ineffective esophageal motility and absent contraction (Yuan et al., 2024). Another small study by Carlson et al. (2016), which also used high-resolution manometry, revealed “propagating peristalsis, often with hypercontractility” as the predominant motility pattern in their participants.
I would recommend reading this paper by Nehra et al. (2022), which has some insightful explanations of the different types of motility disorders. There are tables which detail how they appear on diagnostic tests, their differentiating features, and the recommended examinations and treatments.
It is also important to note that motility disorders can stem from different dysfunctions. For instance, it could arise from an autoimmune disease (e.g. Scleroderma), impaired inhibitory innervation (e.g. distal esophageal spasm), or excessive cholinergic stimulation (e.g. hypercontractile/jackhammer esophagus) (Nehra et al., 2022).
In sum, it is important to be sure that what you have is truly an esophageal diverticulum, as the treatment and management plan can be quite different for each diagnosis. And since a motility disorder is often the underlying cause of epiphrenic esophageal diverticulum, it is important to investigate this further in order to reduce or eliminate the chance of recurrence.
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According to Varghese et al. (2007), “optimal surgical treatment is debated, mortality being 9% in the largest reported surgical series of 33 patients”. That’s not much data to go on. For epiphrenic esophageal diverticulum, the ‘traditional’ methods of treatment include: “transthoracic resection, long esophagomyotomy, and an antireflux procedure”.
I won’t deep-dive into each treatment type here because honestly, I’m probably as clueless as you are. I think I’ve done sufficient research to ask my surgeon the questions I need to ask however, and his answers convince me that he knows what he is doing. So I will share only the treatments that piqued my interest initially, and also what I would personally need.
I had read that diverticulum peroral endoscopic myotomy (D-POEM) is becoming more popular as a surgical method for esophageal diverticulum. It is a minimally-invasive procedure with various adaptations, but generally involves steps to create tunnels, dissect and reseal certain parts of the esophagus and its related muscles (Wang et al., 2020).
I was interested in D-POEM, because studies have shown that it has a high technical and clinical success rate, and also a low recurrence rate. It is also commonly used to treat achalasia and other motility disorders (Pelton et al., 2024). However, it has mostly been used for Zenker’s diverticulum, as compared to other types of diverticula (Mavrogenis & Bazerbachi, 2023).
In any case, I asked my surgeon about it. I didn’t quite understand his explanation of why it wouldn’t make sense to use it. He did say that the surgical treatment that I’d need would be the same regardless of diverticulum type however, which is a Heller myotomy.
Heller myotomy is the standard procedure used to treat achalasia, where the lower esophageal sphincter is cut to relieve pressure, so that food and liquid can pass through. Acid reflux can occur after a Heller myotomy, so a partial fundoplication may be done in addition (UCLA Health, n.d.).
A fundoplication is an anti-reflux surgical procedure, where a “gastric fold is wrapped around the distal esophagus which enforces the lower esophageal sphincter and prevents gastroesophageal reflux”. It can be either full (Nissen) or partial (Toupet, Dor or Thal) (Abdrabou et al., 2022).
A Dor fundoplication takes the frontal approach, whilst a Toupet or Thal fundoplication from the back (Abdrabou et al., 2022). The most common is a Dor fundoplication, where part of the stomach is wrapped over the front of the esophagus and stitched in place. Nissen fundoplication is rarely advised for patients with achalasia, as it can lead to issues with peristalsis (Northwestern Medicine, n.d.).
My surgeon also said that he would probably need to perform the surgery at two entry points, with one incision from near the abdomen. Since my right chest wall has been tunnelled through before in order to repair my mitral valve, a thoracic surgeon will be needed on the surgical team to help ‘navigate’ through the web of adhesions.
According to Torres-Villalobos and Martin-del-Campo (2013), “myotomy can be safely performed using open abdominal and thoracic approaches, and for more than two decades, it has also been done using laparoscopy and thoracoscopy”. I’m assuming that was what the surgeon meant when he was explaining it to me.
The rate of symptom relief for esophageal diverticulum is between 85% to 100%, using standard treatments such as “laparoscopic myotomy, diverticulectomy, and fundoplication”. Having said that, the complication rate for the procedure itself is high (Herbella & Patti, 2012).
Some complications that can occur post-surgery include: “air leaks, septicemia and/or sepsis, mediastinitis, mediastinal empyema with or without fistula, mediastinal abscess, postoperative wound infection, and postoperative hemorrhage” (Onwugbufor et al., 2013).
Leaks are one of the more common complications post surgery, at a rate of up to 23%. My own surgeon has told me that a leak was his biggest concern. The mortality rate for the procedure reaches up to 7% as well (Herbella & Patti, 2012).
Your surgeon will most likely use a combination of procedures in order to treat you, based on several factors. Your individual anatomy needs to be accounted for, as well as the size and position of the esophageal diverticulum, comorbidities and more. Each surgical method has its own risks and merits. For instance, a left thoracotomy provides good access to an epiphrenic diverticulum, but is also associated with a high morbidity rate (up to 21% of patients had a leak), and a mortality rate of up to 11% (Herbella & Patti, 2012).
Here is a summarised table of optimal surgical treatments used to treat epiphrenic esophageal diverticulum from 17 published series (Sato et al., 2023).
I hope that this article has given you some insight into the rare disease, esophageal diverticulum. I talked about epiphrenic esophageal diverticulum a little more, as that has a direct impact on me.
Doing research has helped me to cope with the helplessness and numbness I am currently feeling. Whenever I discover a correlation between my symptoms and an explanation from a medical journal, I feel enlightened or triumphant. To say that “knowledge is power” is underrated. Knowledge is healing. And we don’t know enough as it stands.
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You’ve probably asked ChatGPT, Gemini or another AI-powered chatbot a medical or health-related question before. Perhaps to try and find a diagnosis, or simply out of curiosity. I have personally asked them some medical questions that I already knew the answers to, simply to see how accurate they were. Google Gemini tends to skirt around health-related issues, whilst ChatGPT gives rather generic answers.
That is not necessarily a bad thing, because the scope of what these AI chatbots cover are quite broad. MediSearch on the other hand, is specifically built to focus on answering medical questions. Thus, you could say that it concentrates all of its resources on health-related topics, to give more detailed and accurate responses.
So when the founder of MediSearch, Eduard, approached me to write an honest review, I was excited to say the least. He also granted me access to the Pro version of MediSearch, so I could test the system and see the differences for myself. Let’s dive into the review - the good and bad (if any)!
*Disclaimer: Whilst this post is sponsored by MediSearch, all opinions expressed in this review are my own. This article is meant for educational purposes, and is based on my personal experiences as a patient. Whilst I have done my utmost to be meticulous in research, I am not a doctor, and nothing in this article should be substituted for medical advice. Please consult your own doctor before changing or adding any new treatment protocols. This post may also contain affiliate links. It will cost you nothing to click on them. I will get a small referral fee from purchases you make, which helps with the maintenance of this blog. Read our Privacy Policy page for more information. Thank you!
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MediSearch is a medical AI-powered search engine with over a million users to date. It aims to be the world's best medical Q&A system. It filters out the noise and only references credible sources and journals - so no random or woo-woo websites. ChatGPT and other AI chatbots are infamous for hallucinating, or to be more harsh, Scientific American straight up says they’re “bullshitting”.
MediSearch on the other hand, cites and links to all sources it derived its answers from. You can click on neatly arranged links to read the medical articles for yourself. If there are no credible sources to be found for your medical question, it will tell you so, or suggest potential questions you might be interested in instead.
One other thing that I love about MediSearch is that it is always up-to-date, so the answers it gives are all based on the latest scientific evidence. Its database is updated within hours of new publications. Even my favourite medical apps, such as MedScape (which I use to check for drug interactions), take weeks to prompt a manual update of medical information. To me, MediSearch truly taps into the power of AI to serve its purpose.
If you’ve ever used ChatGPT or similar, then you know the drill. Simply ask MediSearch a medical question, and it quickly generates the answer with all sources cited. It differs from ChatGPT in the sense that you can’t simply type ‘tell me more’ like in a conversation, but it will suggest possible questions you can follow-up on.
I actually like that it does that, because it doesn’t guess what you’re trying to ask, which can lead you down rabbit holes. For example, I use ChatGPT quite a bit for coding work, but have realised that asking it questions in a conversational style often leads to errors. This is because it infers from the previous text, and amplifies its ‘understanding’ - which can often be false. Specificity is extremely important for medical questions, as it concerns you and your health.
Something else I like about MediSearch is the way its algorithm works. You don’t only get a summary of answers to your medical questions, but one that has been carefully crafted based on ranking factors such as journal quality, number of citations, and more. This means that the answers you’re getting are quality ones.
According to their website, MediSearch Pro has a 94% accuracy score when tested on the United States Medical Licensing Examination (USMLE) sample examination. The average score for a medical school graduate student taking the exam is 60%. Like me, you might be wondering what the USMLE is exactly, and I took the opportunity to ask MediSearch:
As you can see, the answer that MediSearch generated is comprehensive, and the information is broken down into a readable format that is easy to digest. The USMLE is an important exam that is compulsory for medical students to take, in order to practice medicine in the U.S.
When compared to other AI-powered search engines, MediSearch also had the highest accuracy score for the USMLE sample test, as can be seen from the chart below:
I decided to ask MediSearch questions I have done extensive research on as a patient, namely Antiphospholipid Syndrome (APS) and Spontaneous Bilateral Patellar Tendon Rupture (SBPTR). These are medical conditions I live with, and have written resources on myself.
I started with a basic question about APS, “What are the lab tests used for diagnosing Antiphospholipid syndrome?”:
This pretty much summarises what took me hours of manual research, in order to include proper references for my APS resource guide. It also highlights that LA is “considered the strongest predictor for adverse pregnancy-related events and thrombosis”. This is an important note, and something my own rheumatologist has pointed out to me before.
Next, I decided to ask MediSearch about Tecarfarin, which is a blood thinning medication still undergoing clinical trials. It is a drug that is targeted more for heart and kidney disease patients, and less for APS (a blood clotting autoimmune disorder), so I was curious as to what its response would be.
The response provided by MediSearch was well-informed once again, as seen in the screenshot below. It states clearly that Tecarfarin is still limited in evidence for APS, and tells me more about what it is, which stage the clinical trials are at, and more important medical information. This matches up with the research I had done (as a patient) for my article on medications in relation to APS, which took me months to put together.
MediSearch isn’t only for medical writers, clinicians, or chronic illness patients who have lived with their diagnoses for years. It is also suitable for ‘everyday’ health questions that the average person may have, such as, “is coffee good for health?”, “best foods for reducing cholesterol”, or even “is breakdancing considered a sport?”. Yes sorry, I just had to ask MediSearch about breakdancing, given the Olympics fiasco 😉
Even for ‘simple’ questions such as these, MediSearch cites its sources. I tried asking ChatGPT 4.0 the same question about coffee, and whilst it provided the potentials and drawbacks, no sources were cited. We are living in an age of information overload, disinformation and misinformation, so it’s even more vital to know where the answers generated come from - which MediSearch does.
Every single source it cites is clickable, and taken from actual medical journals, international health guidelines, published books and other credible sources. Regular AI chatbots on the other hand, are fairly limited when it comes to medical questions, as they are only able to retrieve information from open-access or free/public resources.
P.s. To see what the answer is to: “is breakdancing considered a sport?”, simply type the question into the search box on MediSearch’s website. 🙂
Preview of MediSearch’s Landing Page:
The answers you have seen in this review thus far are all from the MediSearch Pro version. Whilst the standard version gives concise answers as well, the MediSearch Pro version sources from more medical articles, which further refines accuracy.
A sample from the standard version can be seen from the screenshot below. If you compare this to the other screenshots we have seen thus far, whilst it is still evidence-based and informative, the answers from the Pro version are more detailed and streamlined. For the example question below, “is coffee beneficial for health?” - the standard version cites two references, whereas the Pro version gave me 10.
If you use Google Scholar, then I’m sure that you’ve clicked on ‘filter by publication date’ at some point, because you want the latest information about a specific topic. MediSearch Pro has a filter by date feature as well, and you can also select which type of sources you want it to search from, such as “scientific articles” and “books”.
If you are a medical writer or need to compile a list of references, MediSearch Pro’s citation tool comes in handy. I personally gather all my references using Zotero, and the ‘export’ feature in MediSearch Pro is compatible with it, including its browser extension. This will save me so much time for research-based articles I write in future.
In addition, the Pro version also allows you to search for more related articles, find contradictions and see what others think. These additional insights are important if you’re doing research - whether for personal or work related purposes.
If you’ve done research for anything at all (shiny objects included), then you know how important perspectives can be. It is good to have all the cards laid out on the table, so that you can make better judgement calls. The “find contradictions” feature to me is a very good one, because it questions the initial answers to see if there may be potential loopholes.
The “see what others think” feature is also quite interesting, although I personally wouldn’t use it much. It essentially peeks into Reddit threads to see what others have been asking or thinking about in relation to your topic.
This may be a personal preference thing however, as I don’t even trust Reddit on a regular day (I may be a millennial…). I do know that many of my Gen Z friends use Reddit more than even Google Search however, so I can see how this is useful. In their own words, “it gives me human, straightforward answers, and not some lengthy blog with a biased opinion”.
Another thing you could potentially do is to see what others are asking or thinking, rephrase it into a specific question, then feed it back into MediSearch to find out what the science actually says.
If you hate to read and prefer to watch a video to see how best to utilise MediSearch Pro, here are some great reviews by medical professionals and/or establishments:
How to Use MediSearch for Your Medical Writing (by Alex Evans, PharmD, MBA)
MediSearch comes with documentation for developers. You will need an API key to integrate MediSearch into your website or app, which can then be used to generate a medical Q&A chatbot.
Medical businesses or establishments can also use MediSearch to benefit both clinicians and patients. For patients, MediSearch Pro can be used to generate evidence-based health tips, based on individual user data. For clinicians, MediSearch can be used to manipulate Electronic Health Records (EHR) for summaries and also in other novel ways.
The answer is a resounding “yes”. I honestly loved how streamlined, concise and accurate the answers were, and the intuitive user interface. If you have been following my blog for a while, you would know that I recently published an APS A - Z resource guide. This resource took me years to complete, and is truly a work-in-progress. There is still a lot of information that I would like to add to it, such as a related article about herbs, foods and drinks to avoid with APS. With MediSearch Pro, I know that the research process will go much quicker this time around, and I’m actually excited to get started again.
I also work as a medical writer for my own clients, on topics such as digital healthcare, orofacial pain, oral medicine, vitamins and more. I spend a lot of time doing manual research for each article, which can take me days or weeks - more than the actual writing itself. I can see how MediSearch Pro will be an asset to my medical writing jobs in future as well.
Update: I now pay for the Pro version even though my trial has ended, because it truly is a great service. You can try the free version of MediSearch via the links below!
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This sounds like a game-changer for anyone seeking reliable medical information! I’ve used AI tools like ChatGPT for medical questions, but they often feel too general. MediSearch seems like it could be a great resource, especially since it focuses solely on health-related topics. Excited to check it out!
Hi Harriet, let me know what you think when you do check it out! It’s one of my favourite writing companions now too 🙂
All of my recent posts have been extremely ‘heavy’, so to speak. First, there were the two knee injury series - one on resources for post knee surgery, and the other on things you can do whilst bed bound. Then, there was the Antiphospholipid Syndrome A to Z resource, which included a few other topics such as medications, women’s health, the latest APS research and all the major organs in the body that the autoimmune disease can hit.
Researching and writing those articles consumed a lot of my brain power and energy, which comes in limited edition as a person with multiple chronic illnesses. Then, I landed in hospital with more new diagnoses just a few weeks after school re-opened.....
*Disclaimer: This article is meant for educational purposes, and is based on my personal experiences as a patient. I am not a doctor, and nothing in this article should be substituted for medical advice. Please consult your own doctor before changing or adding any new treatment protocols. This post may also contain affiliate links. It will cost you nothing to click on them. I will get a small referral fee from purchases you make, which helps with the maintenance of this blog. Read our Privacy Policy page for more information. Thank you!
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So I decided to do this post for a bit of fun, and to take a break from the dreariness of it all. A metaphorical digestif, if you will. This post is part of a TikTok trend (I should really get on it some time soon, shouldn’t I?), “Tell Me Without Telling Me”. I learned about it from a post by Caz over at invisiblyme.com, although I can’t seem to find the original post now. Many of us who live with chronic illness endure our days with chronic pain, chronic fatigue, brain fog and other unnameable unpleasantries.
Humour has always carried me through the darkest periods of chronic illness, especially when faced with mortality. Morbid, dark humour is my favourite. It somehow lightens the whole situation, and makes things seem less scary or foreboding. To be able to laugh into the face of death takes away some of its power, and lightens the load. It gives me the strength to carry on.
What about you? What sort of humour do you enjoy the most, and does it help you through the dark days? Check out these “Tell Me You’re Chronically Ill Without Telling Me You’re Chronically Ill” memes I made, and let me know if you can relate to any of them in the comments below!
Sometimes you wish you were older, just so people would stop questioning the reality of your illnesses because you’re ‘too young’ to be that sick.
You drill your travel companions on emergency protocols like an army sergeant, just in case you get a seizure or something cool.
Superfoods and kale juice can land you in the A&E/ER at best, or kill you at worst.
Your girlie pouch in the bag contains emergency medication (make that medicationS). Maybe lipstick and mascara – if there’s space.
You can read a medical article in a minute and actually understand all the jargon.
Choosing the ‘physician’ rather than ‘consumer’ version of medical articles to read.
Spontaneity means getting prepared to be spontaneous. Unless of course, it’s a trip to the ER.
You also have a ‘grab and go’ bag even though you’re not pregnant, for that said spontaneous trip to the A&E.
Also, you don’t just have a backup plan, but the backup plans.
When the #1 item on your Christmas wish list is simply – less pain. (A girl/boy can dream?)
Your hands have a ‘daily quota’, so you use other body parts to compensate. Hey, shoulders are more efficient for opening doors, non?
Gross isn’t gross – it’s important medical information that needs to be described in great detail to doctors so they can diagnose you properly and relieve you of pain.
You develop naked body confidence, after needing to undress or spread your legs for the doctor/lab tech/whichever medical professional for the umpteeth time. It’s just a body.
You need to dismantle your sushi because you can’t open your mouth wide enough to take a bite.
Cutting up steak also requires careful planning and execution. If in company or if your hands are too painful for the day – abort mission and order a miserly salad like you meant to instead.
That said, you can knock back a fistful of pills like a pro. They should really have a Major League Eating Pill Popping championship, because you would totally rock that.
You also have a ‘pill swallowing method’ where various parts of your mouth cavity serve as storage and launching devices.
You have chronically ill internet friends who ‘get you’ more than people in real life. These are people you can discuss body parts, bowel movements and pain with all day without judgement.
Monitoring your energy levels at events has become second nature, especially after you’ve had to make Titanic drama level exits a couple times.
A shopping spree consists of pyjamas, compression clothing, ice and heat packs, hot water bottles, and mobility aids.
Your ‘savings’ amount to a grand total of… $0. Those pesky medical bills really need to ease up their enthusiasm for a bit.
You want to read that 1000-page book but fret, because you know it’s a trade off with pain in your finger and hand joints. (Thank goodness for Kindles!)
Essential to do on arriving home from ‘the outside world’ – wiping your phone down with a 70% isopropyl alcohol wipe.
You glance or glare passive aggressively at anyone who coughs or sneezes on the street (or the elevator…gross).
You’re grateful that the pandemic normalised mask-wearing (speaking for Asia, at least).
The chemist is like the adult version of a candy store where you restock your OTC supplies.
When you know the actual medication name – not just the brand name – better than the pharmacist or doctor. No, it’s not just Clexane or Lovenox, it’s enoxaparin to be precise.
You run a mini pharmacy at home that takes up at least a few shelves. People come to you for medical supplies for minor ailments, or to ask you what their symptoms could be indicative of.
That mini pharmacy extends to your bedside table, where you keep emergency supplies for immediate access.
When the GP panics just as much as you, and just directs you to the nearest ER.
You have a weighted blanket to help manage your anxiety... except you regret buying it because it’s basically a giant paperweight when your swollen hands can’t pull it up at night.
You hold your bladder in and calculate your toilet breaks like an arithmetic problem, in order to save your knees some pain per trip.
You also need 5 minutes to mentally prepare yourself just to sit up, when you need to use the toilet at night.
You can prattle off tongue-twister medical conditions and medications off the tip of your tongue like poetry.
Your bottle of concentrated peppermint essential oil has saved a drunk friend or two from puking.
You have two homes. The second being the hospital. Even the staff know you by name.
The fear of boarding public transportation is real. Often you avoid the disabled seat even if no one is sitting in it, for fear of being accused.
Same goes for disabled toilets. When you’re actually out with your walking stick or mobility aid, you feel vindicated just standing outside. Look at my mobility aid, goddamnit.
Home is where the… medications are.
Your calendar is fully booked for the rest of the year with doctor appointments. Maybe you can squeeze a friend in somewhere, but probably not.
Your handwriting is like a 4 year-old’s scrawl because your hand trembles, either from illness or a medication side effect.
When you rupture your tendons, but assume it’s ‘just a dislocation’ that your hypermobile friends online can teach you how to pop back.
People think you’re cold and arrogant, no thanks to your resting pain face.
Your idea of a fun, wild night out with friends is chilling on the couch at home, playing board games. Maybe one glass of wine tops, and with a wine wand.
You’re absolutely shocked when/if you wake up to a pain free day. You poke and prod your body all day in disbelief, and wonder if that’s how ‘normal’ people feel every day?!
You now consider work stress as a luxury problem, and dream of being stressed out about work, instead of rotting in bed all day long with pain and fatigue.
You understand that ‘just be happy’ is a bullshit platitude and attitude on life, when you live in chronic pain. So you seek a life with meaning instead.
When someone asks if you’ve heard of a disease… You can guess based on its medical name.
You carry a water bottle wherever you go (with at least one sip left) just in case you need to pop that emergency med.
You know you have a rare disease when… you search a hashtag on social media, and the ‘latest’ post is yours from 2 years ago.
You win word games all the time because you know fancy words like… Encephalomyelitis, antiphospholipid, carbamazepine, anaesthesiologist.
Could you relate to any of these memes as a person with chronic illness or disabilities? I’d love to hear which you could relate to the most in the comments below! And if you have a good chronic illness meme of your own, I’d love to hear it too, and perhaps add it to this post (with credits to you, of course)! Wishing you a low-pain day, and one filled with laughter 🙂
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This is soooo good, Sheryl! Humour has been important to me, too. Especially the ability to laugh at myself, otherwise I think I’d shrivel up with embarrassment.
It’s a sad time when you can safely say the only reason you’ve been able to spread your legs for a number of years is for doctors. 😂
Mini pharmacy at the bedside table, I have that too. I had to get little pots to separate meds and one to put on the wall because having them all together was a disaster waiting to happen. In a confused and sick state, you reach for something and hope it’s the right one.
I actually took a screenshot of an autocorrect typo from a hospital video recently. It was brilliant but I can’t find it. I’ve got so many documents all over the place on my laptop now it’s just ridiculous. I could use a few months of solidly tidying up and getting through computer-related stuff let alone anything else. I wish I could remember what it was but alas, my memory is awful! Illness really is the gift that keeps on giving.
Thank you for the giggles!
Caz xx
Hi Caz, thanks for reading and for sharing your own little laughs and experiences! Would love to see those photos! Also, I got the inspiration from you as mentioned in the post, but I can’t find it now so if you could let me know I’ll include it so we have even more laughs! 😀
Yes I figured that one about spreading legs… for doctors… would be either funny or repulsive depending on who you are haha! x
Great post, Sheryl! I could relate to many of these!! You are SO lucky to live in Asia where wearing a mask has been normalized. Here in the US, we few “freaks” still wearing masks are treated like lepers or worse, openly mocked. It’s seriously messed up. I went to my 40th high school reunion (of course had to wear a mask – I rarely go to any event with that many people), and one of my old classmates (who is a surgeon now!!) pointed at me and laughed, chanting “ha ha Sue’s got COVID!” I was floored. As if it would be funny even if I did have COVID. sigh… he was clueless back in HS, too, but scary that he is now a medical professional. Anyway, I enjoyed your list and shared it 🙂
Sue
Live with ME/CFS
Holy crap… a surgeon who said that?! That’s crazy to me 🙁 Yes, in the hospital every medical staff wears a mask, and it’s mandatory in the wards. Out in public, it’s up to you, but since the pandemic, wearing masks even by “healthy people” is normal now, which is great! Sadly, one of my classmates told me she wears a mask because she was “too ugly” – so, in that regard, maybe not haha! And thank you for your comment, I appreciate it – glad you could relate to many of these memes (or not, really 😔). Sending sunshine your way!
You may have heard of the rare blood clotting disorder, Antiphospholipid Syndrome, but did you know that it isn’t ‘just’ about the blood? This article is part of the Antiphospholipid Syndrome (APS) resource library that I’m building up on my site from a patient perspective. It consists of findings from research journals, as well as over 20 years of my personal experiences with APS. This post will focus on how does Antiphospholipid Syndrome affect the body, beyond the blood to major organs.
I won’t deep dive into each medical condition, or the post will never end ;) (Also, I have found anatomy to be my least favourite research topic...but we’ll definitely have to delve a bit into it here!) If I get the motivation in future however, I will write up separate articles for each major organ in relation to Antiphospholipid Syndrome.
If there are terms or topics in this article that you’d like to learn more about, then check out the complete A - Z resource guide and related APS posts below as well!
*Disclaimer: This article is meant for educational purposes, and is based on my personal experiences as a patient. Whilst I have done my utmost to be meticulous in research, I am not a doctor, and nothing in this article should be substituted for medical advice. Please consult your own doctor before changing or adding any new treatment protocols. This post may also contain affiliate links. It will cost you nothing to click on them. I will get a small referral fee from purchases you make, which helps with the maintenance of this blog. Read our Privacy Policy page for more information. Thank you!
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What this means simply (but we know it’s not that simple, is it?), is that it can affect any part of the body in different ways.
According to García-Carrasco et al. (2013):
“The clinical features and laboratory manifestations associated with aPL [antiphospholipid antibodies] have broadened considerably since the first description of APS in 1983 and now include thrombocytopenia, hemolytic anemia, cardiac valve disease, pulmonary hypertension, microangiopathic nephropathy, skin ulcers, livedo reticularis, refractory migraine, cognitive dysfunction, and atherosclerosis.”
Beyond direct blood-related manifestations, Antiphospholipid Syndrome can also affect the heart, lungs, skin, brain and more. People who have an autoimmune disease tend to have comorbidities as well (i.e. those mutations love a party). For one, researchers have found that there is a high risk of developing Systemic Lupus Erythematosus (SLE), especially during the first 5 years of being diagnosed with Antiphospholipid Syndrome (Chen et al., 2021).
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Patients with Antiphospholipid Syndrome are at an increased risk of blood clots, due to the production of antiphospholipid antibodies (aPLs) that attack phospholipids (Cleveland Clinic, 2022e). They can cause abnormalities in white blood cells, red blood cells, platelets, and other components of blood both directly or indirectly. Symptoms of blood clots depend on the body part where they’re ‘stuck’ at. Let’s take a look at a few direct manifestations of Antiphospholipid Syndrome within the blood.
Venous thrombosis (VT) is the most common clinical manifestation of Antiphospholipid Syndrome, with up to 30% of APS patients having had an episode (Biggioggero & Meroni, 2010). A VT usually occurs as a deep vein thrombosis (DVT).
You’ve probably heard of DVTs (Reyes & Abe, 2025), in news articles scattered across the internet especially in relation to long-haul flights (Ward, 2024), as they can also occur in healthy people as a result of prolonged periods of inactivity. DVTs are blood clots that tend to form in a deep leg vein, although they can occur anywhere in the body. If these clots are large enough, they can also lodge in the brain, heart, lung or heart, which can quickly turn into a life-threatening situation.
This article from Cleveland Clinic (2022c) does a fantastic job of explaining what veins are. To summarise, veins are blood vessels that are an important part of the circulatory system, and 75% of blood in the human body is contained within them.
Apart from the pulmonary veins, they carry oxygen-poor blood back to your heart (arteries carry oxygen-rich blood in reverse). Collectively, they form the venous system, and there are a few different kinds - deep veins, superficial veins and perforating veins. Deep veins are found in the muscles and along bones, and contain 90% of the blood that needs to make its way back to the heart in the legs. That is why it is more common to experience a DVT in the legs.
An interesting anatomy tidbit from Cleveland Clinic - calf muscles are also known as the ‘second heart’ as they help to pump blood back up against gravity. That is why it is important to keep moving and walking on long-haul flights, and why bedbound patients often need to wear compression stockings to prevent a DVT from occurring. Breathing is another important factor in helping blood to circulate.
Platelets are also known as thrombocytes, and thrombocytopenia is a condition when your platelet count is too low (National Heart, Lung, and Blood Institute [NHLBI], 2022). This can lead to excessive bleeding, as your blood is unable to clot sufficiently. Thrombocytopenia is also the most common non-criteria manifestation of antiphospholipid antibodies (aPLs), with a frequency of between 20% - 50% (Artim-Esen et al., 2015).
It is recognised as a complication of patients with lupus anticoagulant and anticardiolipin antibodies in particular. Those with APS and SLE concomitantly also exhibit thrombocytopenia with greater frequency. Having said that, thrombocytopenia is usually not severe in APS patients, and usually does not require therapy (Forastiero, 2012).
Cardiovascular disease (CVD) is an umbrella term that covers disorders of the heart and blood vessels, and is the leading cause of death globally (World Health Organization [WHO], n.d.). The usual suspects contribute to CVD, such as smoking and an unhealthy diet. Smoking is also one of the most important predictable risk factors for cardiovascular disease in people with Antiphospholipid Syndrome. The combination is strongly associated with arterial vascular events, especially ischaemic strokes (when a blood clot blocks an artery in the brain) (Tektonidou, 2022; Mayo Clinic, n.d. -b). As such, it is important for people with APS to mediate what they can in an attempt to maintain and improve their overall health.
According to Polytarchou et al. (2020):
“Patients with APS have endothelial dysfunction, accelerated endothelial proliferation and intimal hyperplasia, atherogenesis, platelet activation, inflammatory products secretion and coagulation-fibrinolytic dysregulation.”
All that basically goes to say that APS patients are more prone to CVD, due to thrombotic and inflammatory factors in addition to traditional risk factors. Let’s break that down a bit to make more sense in relation to blood clotting and Antiphospholipid Syndrome.
Endothelium refers to the thin layer of cells that lines the inside of blood vessels, and endothelial cells secrete substances that control the opening and closing of arteries, which subsequently determines blood pressure and how hard your heart has to pump (Cleveland Clinic, 2022b). These substances also activate the fibrinolysis system (which helps to regulate blood clots) (National Library of Medicine [NLM], n.d.), and mediates platelet adhesion and shear stress induced aggregation (Wu & Thiagarajan, 1996).
There are four different types of endothelial cells, namely: arterial, venous, capillary and lymphatic. These cells can be found in major organs, such as the brain, liver, kidney, lungs and heart, where they proliferate (reproduce) at different rates, serve different functions, and vary in movement (Przysinda et al., 2020).
According to Stanford Health Care (n.d. -b): “Endothelial dysfunction is a type of non-obstructive coronary artery disease (CAD) in which there are no heart artery blockages, but the large blood vessels on the heart’s surface constrict (narrow) instead of dilating (opening).” Endothelial dysfunction causes chronic chest pain, and is more frequently seen in women than in men.
This dysfunction is usually due to low levels of nitric oxide gas in blood vessel walls, which can trigger inflammation, and other platelet and blood vessel dysregulations. These can result in blood clots, strokes, hypertension, heart attacks, and more.
Patients with APS have been found to have impaired synthesis of nitric oxide that can be caused by various factors. APS patients with thrombosis were found to have low plasma levels of nitrites and nitrates, which are important metabolites for breaking down nitric oxide. Antiphospholipid antibodies also have implications in how nitric oxide synthesises (Velásquez et al., 2018).
According to Tektonidou (2022) and Polytarchou et al. (2020), a few of the types of cardiovascular diseases that patients with Antiphospholipid Syndrome are more prone to include:
Valvular Heart Disease. This happens when any valve in the heart is damaged or diseased, with the most common being stenosis, where the valve becomes narrow or stiff, and thus unable to open fully to allow blood to flow through (Cleveland Clinic, 2024d).
Libman-Sacks endocarditis is present in 30% of APS patients, and according to Polytarchou et al. (2020):
“Typically, patients with APS have valve thickening (>3 mm) of the proximal or middle portion of the leaflets, or irregular nodules on the atrial aspect of the edge of the mitral valve or the vascular surface of the edge of the aortic valve. The formation of valve vegetation, known as Libman-Sacks endocarditis, is the result of endocardial damage and thrombus formation.”
I personally have had a mitral valve prolapse when I was 25, though I don’t think it can be solely attributed to APS as I have a whole assortment of chronic illnesses. I still remember slowly dying over the course of a year, as breathing became increasingly difficult. I managed to eventually get it repaired at Cleveland Clinic, as the local surgeons were not keen to touch a patient with Antiphospholipid Syndrome. That life-saving surgery was only made possible thanks to the hundreds of kind, generous souls who funded it.
Cardiomyopathy (heart muscle disorders). - There are various types of conditions that can cause cardiomyopathy, which results in your heart being unable to pump blood efficiently. Over time, this weakens your heart and can lead to heart failure. APS patients, especially those with a comorbid SLE diagnosis, have an increased risk of cardiomyopathy, most likely due to “microvascular thrombosis, autoimmune vasculitis and myocarditis or microvascular fibrosis” (Polytarchou et al., 2020).
Intracardiac Thrombi. - Cardiac thrombi can be commonly found in patients with ischaemic strokes, and it is important to distinguish them from other cardiac masses such as tumours, in order to render proper treatment (Alkindi et al., 2013). Intracardiac thrombosis is when a blood clot forms in the heart, which can also lead to pulmonary or peripheral embolisms.
This is not an exhaustive list of cardiological issues in relation to Antiphospholipid Syndrome, but I hope that it has granted you some insight into the mechanisms behind it, and that it serves to highlight the importance of maintaining good heart wherever possible (I personally could do better, for one...).
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Cutaneous (skin-related) manifestations are common and may actually be the first signs of Antiphospholipid Syndrome. In a study of 200 patients, Francès et al. (2005) found that 49% of APS or APS/SLE patients had dermatologic manifestations, and that it was the presenting manifestation in 30.5% of them. Kriseman et al. (2007) also notes that 40% of APS patients who have cutaneous manifestations go on to develop multisystemic thrombotic events, which underscores the need to be extra vigilant.
According to Gibson et al. (1997), cutaneous manifestations in Antiphospholipid Syndrome include:
“livedo reticularis, necrotizing vasculitis, livedoid vasculitis, thrombophlebitis, cutaneous ulceration and necrosis, erythematous macules, purpura, ecchymoses, painful skin nodules, and subungual splinter hemorrhages.”
Studies have shown that livedo reticularis is the most common dermatologic manifestation in APS patients, at about 55%. Another study of 70 patients with the lupus anticoagulant showed thrombophlebitis as the most common at about 34%. SLE is often associated with secondary cases, and chronic urticaria is also associated with autoimmune conditions in general, in approximately 50% of cases (Diógenes et al., 2004).
Let’s take a look at how Antiphospholipid Syndrome can affect the largest organ of the human body - the skin.
Livedo reticularis is a netlike, purplish discolouration of skin, thought to be caused through the constriction of blood vessels (Danan et al., 2021). This then disrupts blood flow, and results in oxygen-starved red blood cells accumulated beneath the skin. It may also be the presenting sign of APS, although it may be hard to tell as it can also occur in other individuals with or without other medical conditions.
There is also another form of livedo known as livedo racemosa, which presents as a discontinued network, and does not go away. It mostly occurs in the lower limbs, and for APS patients, usually happens due to organised thrombosis. Unlike livedo reticularis, livedo racemosa is commonly associated with thrombotic or inflammatory disorders (Pincelli et al., 2021).
Superficial thrombophlebitis is when there is inflammation of the veins just beneath your skin, and usually occurs in the legs. Symptoms include swelling, redness or tenderness, and sometimes a high fever (National Health Service, 2022). These are similar to that of a DVT, but with less severity. A small study of 45 patients with recurrent superficial thrombophlebitis also found a correlation with anticardiolipin antibodies (de Godoy et al., 2001).
According to Dobler et al. (2018), about 20% - 30% of Antiphospholipid Syndrome patients have lower extremity ulcers, which they posit might be due to “vascular endothelial damage at the microcirculation level, leading to intracapillary thrombosis and focal inflammation”.
Whilst the full pathology is yet to be fully understood, some recent studies have suggested that the antiphospholipid antibodies - lupus anticoagulant and anticardiolipin - might be risk factors for venous leg ulcers, which might cause repeated thrombosis that lead to chronic damage that are unable to heal properly over time (Takahashi et al., 2021).
Research I have found in relation to skin ulcers are mostly from case reports, where many of the ulcers resembled pyoderma gangrenosum, which is an ulcerative disorder that is not fully understood, but commonly linked with systemic diseases (Schmieder & Krishnamurthy, 2023). These ulcers either fully resolved with a combination of treatments including anticoagulation, although there was one case report of an ulcer that wasn’t able to heal for 7 years (Wei et al., 2022). In all of the case reports, the need for a multidisciplinary approach was emphasised.
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I wrote a whole post about females and Antiphospholipid Syndrome which you can read about in the link below (and will follow up with one all about males at some point!). If you do not have the time, one thing to be aware of are ovarian cyst ruptures, which can come on suddenly, and is of life-threatening status. Having experienced it twice, I am now on birth control in a bid to prevent it from happening again.
Whether Antiphospholipid Syndrome contributes to infertility is still controversial, as there is insufficient data to conclude. However, there have been case reports of testicular thrombosis followed by orchiectomy (surgical procedure to remove testicle(s)) in males with APS, which could contribute to future infertility (El Hasbani et al., 2020).
Several musculoskeletal manifestations have been reported in APS patients, namely: Arthralgia/Arthritis, Avascular Necrosis/Osteonecrosis, bone marrow necrosis, complex regional pain syndrome type-1 (reflex sympathetic dystrophy), muscle infarction, non-traumatic fractures and osteoporosis (Noureldine et al., 2016). Musculoskeletal manifestations can also be complicated by comorbidities, such as Lupus (SLE).
Patients on long-term warfarin therapy can also lose bone density as it is a Vitamin K antagonist, which is an important vitamin for bone health (Rodríguez-Olleros Rodríguez & Díaz Curiel, 2019). Learn more about Vitamin K antagonists here.
Avascular necrosis of bone (AVN) is also known as osteonecrosis (ON) or aseptic necrosis. It is a disease in which cell death occurs in components of bone, as a result of interruption in blood supply. AVN is associated with several autoimmune diseases.
For Antiphospholipid Syndrome, ischaemia is thought to be the main cause, with antiphospholipid antibodies associated with vessel thromboses. Thrombosis of terminal arteries in the subcondral areas (layers of bone just beneath the cartilage in a joint) has also been found in patients with non-traumatic AVN (Tektonidou & Moutsopoulos, 2006). Studies have shown that previous glucocorticoid (steroid) use and thrombocytopenia (low platelet count) may be contributing factors (Freire de Carvalho et al., 2021).
Osteopenia refers to bone density loss, which can lead to osteoporosis where the bones have become weak and brittle, and thus can break easily (Cleveland Clinic, 2024b; Mayo Clinic, n.d. -a).
Long-term warfarin use has been associated with osteoporosis, especially for men. This might be due to its Vitamin K antagonistic effects, which interferes with bone formation (Gage et al., 2006). Another small study also showed a strong correlation between antiphospholipid antibodies and metatarsal fractures (which includes osteoporosis), although the role of warfarin is yet unclear (Sangle et al., 2004).
Learn more about warfarin here.
As per Noureldine et al.’s (2016) review, Primary Antiphospholipid Syndrome (PAPS) is a common cause of arthralgia (pain in a joint). This is different from Arthritis, which is an actual diagnosis, and not a symptom (Hardin, 1990). Management of arthralgia and arthritis is primarily on a symptomatic basis, with drugs such as NSAIDs and analgesics.
According to Noureldine et al. (2016), osteoarticular pain might be due to a flare for SLE-APS patients, in which immunosuppressive agents and/or corticosteroids may be needed. I have both Sjögren’s and SLE, and based on my personal experience, only steroids work when I’m in an immense pain flare. Even strong painkillers do nothing to ease the pain.
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Neuropsychiatry is a field of medicine which involves neurology and also mental illness (Royal College of Psychiatrists, n.d.). Antiphospholipid Syndrome is now recognised as a major neurological disease as well. Neurological events that can occur due to APS include: stroke, transient ischemic attacks (TIA), migraine, headaches, memory loss, ataxia (coordination/balance issues), symptoms that mimic Multiple Sclerosis, myelopathy, neuropathy, behavioural disorders and more (Hughes, 2003; Johns Hopkins Medicine, n.d. -a; Penn Medicine, n.d.; Healthdirect Australia, 2024).
The direct impact of antiphospholipid antibodies (aPLs) on the central nervous system (CNS) have also been postulated to explain the effect of neurological symptoms in APS patients. One study showed that aPLs bound to specific areas of the brain that impacted memory and learning functions. Another study associated long-term exposure to apLs with motor hypoactivity and impaired cognition, due to mature amyloid plaque deposition, and a relationship between thrombin and coagulation inhibitors. This could potentially increase the risk of Alzheimer's Disease. The increased exposure to proinflammatory cytokines most likely play a role as well (Carecchio et al., 2014).
A lot of research still needs to be done in terms of APS and neuropsychiatric manifestations, as the mechanisms are yet to be fully understood. This is also a great video by Dr. Sanil Rege, who explains more about neuropsychiatric manifestations of APS in a simple manner (Psych Scene Hub, 2024), and another one on the subject by Prof. Graham Hughes (Psych Scene Hub, 2020).
An impact in cognitive function is preferable to saying ‘brain fog’, which often makes the experience sound too trivial. Those who live with ‘brain fog’ know how devastating its impacts are. Cognitive dysfunction is also another annoying feature of APS involvement in the neurological pathways, and exists on a spectrum from mild to severe (such as dementia) (Yelnik et al., 2016).
The frequency of cognitive dysfunction ranges from 19% to 40%, and includes cognitive complication with memory, executive function, visuospatial skills and visuomotor speed. APS patients can also present with psychiatric symptoms such as: psychosis, mania, depression, bipolar disorders, OCD and schizophrenia (Yelnik et al., 2016). Here is also a useful Q&A session with Dr. Yu, as he answers some questions from the APS community regarding brain fog (Yu, n.d.).
Combined with Lupus, Epilepsy, Sjögren’s disease, depression, anxiety and all the other medical conditions that I have, nailing down the culprit of my brain fog can be tricky. I often think that brain fog can be worse than pain, because at least there are coping strategies for pain to a certain extent. There is not much you can do for brain fog, where I have trouble adding 3 + 2, even. You can see how that’s detrimental to trying to get anything done, from simple chores to work.
A stroke is known medically as a cerebrovascular accident (State of Hawaii, Department of Health, n.d.), and is one of the big bad ones when Antiphospholipid Syndrome misbehaves. Apart from taking your medications fastidiously, steps for stroke prevention require modifications to your lifestyle. This includes eating a balanced diet (especially if you're on warfarin), the avoidance of contact sports, and more. Basically, things you probably would not have thought about twice before your Antiphospholipid Syndrome diagnosis.
Studies have shown that triple positive APS patients are at the highest risk for thrombosis, whilst other studies have shown that patients with SLE with only lupus anticoagulant are at an equally high risk.
According to Mittal et al. (2023):
“Acute ischemic stroke (AIS) and transient ischemic attack (TIA) are the most common manifestations of arterial pathology in APS,7 with approximately 20% of patients with APS suffering a stroke more than 10 years.8 In individuals aged below 50 years, 17% of strokes and 12% of TIA are associated with aPL,9 suggesting APS is an important cause of strokes in younger patients.”
Another important thing to note is that more than 20% of strokes in patients younger than 45 years of age may be attributed to Antiphospholipid Syndrome (Ricarte et al., 2018). It is also more common in males.
A transient ischaemic attack (TIA) is a ‘mild stroke’ event that doesn’t last for long, and occurs when blood supply to the brain is cut off briefly. Symptoms include: numbness especially on one side of the body, confusion, vision problems, dizziness, and loss of coordination in articulation and balance (National Institute of Neurological Disorders and Stroke [NINDS], n.d.). I also know a friend with Lupus (SLE) in her mid-30s, who was recently diagnosed with APS, as she had suffered a stroke with atypical symptoms.
Strokes and transient ischaemic attacks (TIAs) are the most common neuropsychiatric manifestations of Antiphospholipid Syndrome. A TIA was actually my first manifestation and experience with APS at 14, where exactly half of my body was numb. It was a strange sensation, almost as if I were sliced into half with precision. I brushed it off as a heat stroke, as I had just endured a physical training session under the hot sun. I was still joking with my friend as we dragged my body to a general practitioner, who referred me to a neurologist. I then received an Antiphospholipid Syndrome diagnosis, and I can still remember that devastating day with clarity, even 20 years on.
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Ophthalmology is a field in medicine with many sub-specialties, and deals with the eyes and vision, their functions and diseases (Churchill & Gudgel, 2024). It is important to note that thrombosis can occur in the eyes as well. Apart from antiphospholipid antibodies (aPLs), proinflammatory cytokines also play a role in triggering thrombosis.
As usual, comorbidities such as SLE can worsen things; according to Neto et al. (2023), up to 1/4 of APS/SLE and SLE patients had retinal abnormalities, and the presence of aPL triple positivity and a high aGAPSS score also seem to be risk factors for paracentral acute middle maculopathy (a type of ischemic maculopathy) (Mishra et al., 2023).
There are a number of ocular and neuroophthalmic manifestations that have been found in APS patients, including but not limited to: retinal arteritis, retinal venous occlusion, ischemic optic neuropathy, transient loss of vision and diplopia (Suvajac et al., 2007). Both anterior and posterior eye segments can be affected (Franco et al., 2020), and sometimes symptoms overlap with neurological-type manifestations such as headache and migraine-like visual symptoms (Uludag et al., 2021).
According to Suvajac et al. (2007), the most frequent ocular manifestation in APS is retinal thrombosis, especially in young adults. In secondary APS, occlusion of central retinal artery and vein (OACR, OVCR) is the most common finding. Patients with Lupus (SLE) on top of Antiphospholipid Syndrome have a compounding of ophthalmic issues, such as scleritis, extraocular thromboses, and optic neuropathy. Catastrophic APS (CAPS) is rare but can also affect the eyes, which can even lead to permanent vision loss (Morel et al., 2021).
Ocular and ophthalmic manifestations in Antiphospholipid Syndrome was previously thought to be rare, but further studies have revealed that they actually occur in 15 - 88% of patients (Suvajac et al., 2007). Interestingly, risk factors associated with retinal vasculopathy include APS-related kidney and heart valve disease, as well as obstetric morbidity (Xie et al., 2022).
Retinal vein occlusion (RVO) is a multifactorial retinal vascular disease that can cause vision damage and blindness, and is common amongst the elderly. Antiphospholipid antibodies are also a risk factor for RVO, especially in patients less than 45 years of age (Zhu et al., 2015). In a study by Hernández et al. (2020), it was found that 10% of the patients with RVO had antiphospholipid antibodies, and that up to 90% of their RVO-APS patients had at least one vascular risk factor.
Pulmonary thromboembolisms and pulmonary hypertension are the most common manifestations of APS in the lungs. Sometimes, patients get a pulmonary embolism first, which leads to a diagnosis of Antiphospholipid Syndrome.
Other APS and lung issues include, but are not limited to: microvascular pulmonary thrombosis, pulmonary capillaritis, alveolar haemorrhage, acute respiratory distress syndrome (ARDS) and postpartum syndrome (Espinosa et al., 2002).
A Pulmonary Embolism (PE) is when a blood clot develops in one of your veins (often in the legs), and travels to lodge itself in a lung artery, blocking blood flow (Johns Hopkins Medicine, n.d. -c). There is a high mortality rate for PEs, with Antiphospholipid Syndrome as a risk factor.
According to Shi et al.( 2022) in a study of 76 patients with PE:
"The risk factors for APS in PE patients are male, low PLT, prolonged APTT and slightly increased D-dimer."
Many people who live with all types of chronic illnesses or disabilities tend to “wait for a bit and see”. Going to the A&E is not fun - I don’t think I need to explain why. It is also uncomfortable, full of other sick people, and all that waiting around makes you even more dehydrated and exhausted. “Is it worth a trip? The pain isn’t so bad...yet...right?”, you think to yourself. And I’ve had that thought many times.
But if you have breathlessness or any persistent chest pains that will not go away, especially where painkillers don't even help - then please just go to the A&E. A pulmonary embolism can be deadly, and the longer you wait, the more damage it will cause.
You can read about my personal experience with Pulmonary Embolism in this post. This medical incident put my body under huge physical and mental stress, which subsequently activated all the other genes for Lupus, Sjögren’s and more, which might have otherwise remained dormant.
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The vascular system is also known as the circulatory system. It consists of the blood vessels (arteries and veins), capillaries (tiny arteries between blood vessels), and lymph vessels. Its functions include blood circulation and lymphatic drainage. These have overlaps with the respiratory, digestive, kidney and urinary system, as well as temperature control, as they all rely on the vascular system (Johns Hopkins Medicine, n.d. -b). This also means that vascular manifestations of Antiphospholipid Syndrome can happen within any of these pathways.
There is increasing evidence that activation of the mammalian target of rapamycin complex (mTORC) pathway by antiphospholipid antibodies (aPLs) is associated with vascular lesions (Canaud et al., 2014). In a study of 48 APS patients, it was also found that those with increased TLR-2 and TLR-4 (toll-like receptor proteins) had endothelial dysfunction, arterial stiffening, and hypertrophy (Benhamou et al., 2014).
No matter the organ involved, most of these vascular manifestations occur as acute or chronic lesions and/or thrombosis in various forms. These can subsequently lead to more specific medical issues, such as stenotic/occlusive coronary arterial disease in the heart, “APS nephropathy” in the kidneys, on top of a myriad of other vascular-related diseases. It is also important to note, once again, that comorbidities such as Lupus (SLE) compounds these issues, due to a wide variety of added factors (Siddique et al., 2017).
Diffuse Alveolar Haemorrhage (DAH) is a small vessel vasculitis that damages the lung microvasculature, so the most fatal complication often involves the respiratory system (Stoots et al., 2019). This is a rare condition that can happen to APS patients, with a high mortality rate between 30.3% - 45.8%.
Symptoms of diffuse alveolar haemorrhage include: dyspnea (shortness of breath), cough, hypoxemia (low blood oxygen levels), hemoptysis (coughing blood out from the lungs), fever, and more. Treatment is usually fairly aggressive, and include: glucocorticoids, immunosuppressive therapy, plasma exchange, and more. More than half of APS patients with DAH are estimated to have a relapse within 5 years of follow-up (Figueroa-Parra et al., 2023).
As you can see, Antiphospholipid Syndrome is a systemic autoimmune disease that goes beyond its status as a ‘mere’ blood disorder. Blood is life, and blood clots can occur in any part of your body, leading to potentially detrimental effects. Thus, it is critical to take your APS diagnosis seriously. Learn from my mistakes - sticking to a regular balanced diet and avoiding contact sports are some things you can do to help lessen the risk of a severe incident. You may not be experiencing pain in the present moment, but remember that prevention is better than cure.
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This article is part of the Antiphospholipid Syndrome (APS) resource library that I’m building up on my site. In this post, we will focus on medications and Antiphospholipid Syndrome. In particular, warfarin is a key medication for the management of APS, especially if you’ve experienced blood clotting events in the past. We will also take a look at what DOACs (direct oral anticoagulants) are, how other medications such as NSAIDs (non steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs) can interact with warfarin, and exciting new drugs in the pipeline.
If there are specific terms or topics in this post that you were wondering about, such as injections, diet, bone health or something else, you can probably find in answers in the find the answers in the complete Antiphospholipid Syndrome A - Z guide or links below.
*Disclaimer: This article is meant for educational purposes, and is based on my personal experiences as a patient. Whilst I have done my utmost to be meticulous in research, I am not a doctor, and nothing in this article should be substituted for medical advice. Please consult your own doctor before changing or adding any new treatment protocols. This post may also contain affiliate links. It will cost you nothing to click on them. I will get a small referral fee from purchases you make, which helps with the maintenance of this blog. Read our Privacy Policy page for more information. Thank you!
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Vitamin K is important to know all about as a patient with Antiphospholipid Syndrome, as it interacts with warfarin and is a key contributor to the blood clotting process. It is a fat-soluble vitamin that comes in the form of vitamin K1 (phylloquinone) and vitamin K2 (a series of menaquinones). There is also a synthetic form - Vitamin K3 (menadione), which is no longer used in dietary supplements as they have been found to damage hepatic cells (Office of Dietary Supplements [ODS], 2021).
Vitamin K1 is the main form of vitamin K in the human diet, and can mostly be found in green, leafy vegetables, certain fruits, and its absorption is increased in the presence of butter or oils. Vitamin K2 is mainly derived from fermented foods, dairy produce and animal-based sources.
According to Halder et al. (2019):
“VKDPs [vitamin K-dependent proteins] are categorized as hepatic and extra-hepatic VKDPs. Hepatic VKDPs include coagulation factors II, VII, IX, X, and anticoagulant protein C, protein S, and protein Z, all of which are involved in regulating blood coagulation. Extra-hepatic VKDPs include Matrix Gla protein (MGP), Osteocalcin, and Gla-rich protein (GRP). These VKDPs are primarily involved in maintaining bone homeostasis, as well as inhibiting ectopic calcification.”
In basic terms, what this means is that vitamin K, whether in K1 or K2 form, is an essential component of blood clotting processes, maintenance of bone health, and prevention of vessel mineralisation, depending on how and where they are metabolised. Whilst it’s important to be aware of vitamin K, I won’t deep dive into it in this post as I’d like to focus on medications and Antiphospholipid Syndrome.
Vitamin K antagonists (VKAs) are a class of medications used for the treatment and prevention of thrombosis. The most well-known and commonly used VKA is warfarin. For the sake of interest, other types of VKAs include: ethyl biscoumacetate, phenindione, anisindione, dicoumarol, phenprocoumon and diphenadione. There is a reason why warfarin is the most commonly used, as many of these other VKAs are erratic, highly toxic, or can cause other adverse side effects (Vardanyan & Hruby, 2006).
The administration of VKAs is convenient and practical, as they can be taken orally, and have a long half-life (warfarin has a half-life of 36 - 42 hours). Doctors are also able to adjust dosages for more precision in individual patients as needed, based on risk factors and medical history. VKAs work by antagonising the enzyme vitamin K epoxide reductase (VKOR) to prevent vitamin K from being recycled. This results in inhibition of the coagulation cascade, as many clotting factors rely on vitamin K to synthesise (Schein et al., 2016).
Vitamin K antagonists such as warfarin, acenocoumarol and phenprocoumon are derivatives of coumarin, which can be of natural or synthetic origin. In 1945, Karl Link experimented with 150 naturally occurring coumarin derivatives, before concluding that one compound was particularly active - warfarin. For a rare subset of patients with mutations in VKOR, VKAs are unfortunately low in efficacy or ineffective due to coumarin resistance (Kasperkiewicz et al., 2020). Read more about coumarins in the A to Z APS resource guide here.
Warfarin is a vitamin K antagonist, and is probably the most important drug for the management of Antiphospholipid Syndrome, and for the prevention of thrombosis. There are two brands of warfarin available - Coumadin and Marevan (Western Australian Department of Health, 2021). It is important to stick to the same brand, as the formulation is not an exact match. What that means is that the anticoagulation effects can vary between each brand, and might mess your INR up. Do discuss with your doctor first, should you need to switch brands for any reason.
(Not so) fun fact: Warfarin also first started out as rat poison, but has declined in usage for such purposes due to an increase in resistance from these rodents, which is inheritable (Thijssen, 1995).
Warfarin inhibits vitamin K dependent clotting factors II, VII, IX, and X, and also the anticoagulant proteins C and S (Crader et al., 2023). This means that it inhibits multiple pathways in the blood clotting process, as compared to DOACs, which only disrupt a specific point. Specifically, prothrombin, FVII, FIX, protein C, and protein S are strictly related to blood coagulation processes (Girolami et al., 2018). Approximately 10% - 40% of factors II, VII, IX and X are inhibited by warfarin (Wadelius et al., 2004).
Vitamin K ‘activates’ these clotting factors via the enzyme, epoxide reductase, which is inhibited by warfarin. In rare cases, patients who are first taking warfarin may experience warfarin-induced skin necrosis. This is especially true for patients who are deficient in protein C, as it has the shortest half-life amongst them all. In such cases, patients are often co-administered heparin, as it has a quicker effect (Barmore et al., 2023).
Warfarin is a potent anticoagulant that is well absorbed by the body via the intestine with 90% bioavailability, and also offers high water solubility. It is then metabolised in the liver (hepatic), primarily through the CYP2C9 enzyme, with a half-life of approximately 20 - 60 hours. Other minor enzymatic pathways for metabolism include: CYP2C8, 2C18, 2C19, 1A2, and 3A4. How much of the drug gets metabolised is also dependent on each individual’s genetic variations (Patel et al., 2023; Kasperkiewicz et al., 2020).
The warfarin molecule is further broken down into two forms - S- and R-warfarin, with S-warfarin 3 - 5 times more potent than R-warfarin. They are mainly broken down in the liver; metabolism of active S-warfarin is mainly via the CYP2C9 enzyme, and CYP enzymes CYP1A2 and CYP3A for R-warfarin.
The issue with warfarin is that it is also highly bound to serum albumin, which when combined with cytochrome P450 (CYP) metabolism, interacts with many drugs and foods. This results in warfarin either becoming more or less potent - thus increasing or decreasing its anticoagulatory effects, which can be risky either way for a patient with Antiphospholipid Syndrome (Tay et al., 2013).
Some drugs that interact with the CYP450 2C9 are cardiovascular medications such as amiodarone, and anti-infectives such as fluconazole. Some drugs that interact with CYP1A2 or CYP3A4 are quinolones and macrolides (bactericidal antibiotics). Inhibition of these enzymes can enhance the effects of warfarin, thus increasing the risk for bleeding further. Other drugs such as rifampicin (an antibiotic), carbamazepine (an anticonvulsant) and azathioprine (a DMARD) on the other hand, induces these enzymes and can decrease the potency of warfarin (Tay et al., 2013).
In a systematic review by Holbrook et al. (2005), they categorise drugs that might potentially interact with warfarin from level 1 (highly probable) to level 4 (highly improbable).
According to Holbrook et al. (2005):
“Of all 184 reviewed reports, 128 (70%) described a potentiation of warfarin’s effect, while inhibition and “no effect” reports each comprised 28 (15%). There were 34 reports of a major interaction—3 case reports of thrombosis associated with trazodone, sulfasalazine, and propofol and 31 case reports describing a major potentiation.”
Some drugs also yielded conflicting evidence for interaction with warfarin, i.e. terbinafine, ritonavir, and influenza vaccine. Linkins (2013) breaks down these medication categories by Holbrook et al. (2005) into a table according to type - antibiotics, antifungals, cardiovascular, cholesterol lowering agents, analgesics or antiinflammatory agents, and others. This is definitely not an exhaustive list of medications that interact with warfarin - there are way too many to be listed in one post, plus many others whose interactions are yet unknown.
Sometimes, taking medications that interact with warfarin is unavoidable, such as antibiotics for an infection, or an essential drug for another medical condition. For example, I was on carbamazepine and azathioprine for a period of time in the past, in a bid to control my epilepsy and Lupus (SLE) activity.
First, your rheumatologist (or doctor who manages your warfarin and Antiphospholipid Syndrome) should be consulted. They will then monitor and adjust your warfarin dose as needed, in combination with the other medications. As the medications I took were on a daily basis, that makes things easier as the main strategy to maintaining your target INR range is consistency in medication and food intake.
I eventually had to stop taking those medications not because they interacted with warfarin, but because they were ineffective or unsuitable for me for various reasons. Your doctor will also work with you to retitrate your warfarin dose when and if you need to stop taking these other medications. Remember that this applies to major dietary changes as well.
The main takeaway that I’d like to highlight is to always inform and work with your doctor when introducing a new medication that might potentially interfere with warfarin. Another important point is to always state that you’re on warfarin when you visit any new healthcare professional, including (especially) at the A&E/ER. In fact, you should have received a medical card that states that you are on warfarin - laminate this and keep it with you at all times so that you can show it to them.
Often, it can be a hassle and impractical to consult your doctor every time you need to take a new medication or food product. I personally use the MedScape app on my phone to do a quick check for medication interactions on the fly (I’ve seen doctors use it as well!). It tells you if there are minor or major contraindications, and why. It’s especially handy when I’m travelling. You can also tap into its comprehensive database to learn more about any other medication.
They also have a browser version here that you can use, plus other educational tools and resources on their website. Do note that it’s still important to cross-check with other verified sources and your doctor whenever possible, as not everything may be 100% accurate - that is impossible as research can sometimes be conflicting, and is also being constantly updated with new discoveries. (You can check out the latest research on Antiphospholipid Syndrome in this post.)
Screenshot Examples of the MedScape App:
The dose requirement of warfarin varies more than 10-fold amongst patients, due to genetic polymorphisms of CYP2C9, dietary differences, and other factors. According to Takahashi and Echizen (2003):
“Therapeutic targets measured by international normalized ratio (INR) of prothrombin time appear to differ between populations: INR of 2–3 for most indications in Caucasian patients1 and 1.5–2.5 for Asian patients.”
And according to Wadelius et al. (2004):
“CYP2C9 variants, age, weight, concurrent drug treatment and indication for treatment significantly influenced warfarin dosing in these patients, explaining 29% of the variation in dose. CYP3A5 did not affect warfarin dosing.”
Thus, there is no hard and fast rule as to how much warfarin one should take, as that needs to be titrated on an individual basis. Apart from the diverse genetic and dietary differences amongst patients, other factors need to be taken into account as well, such as comorbidities and the medications used to treat them, medical history, and other risk factors. If you’ve had had a thrombosis in the past, your INR target range might need to be higher as well, as that is an indication of an increased risk for blood clotting.
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Tecarfarin is a novel VKA with a structural analog of warfarin, and can be measured via INR just like warfarin. It is being developed by Cardrenal Therapeutics for patients with implanted medical devices, end-stage renal disease (ESRD) and atrial fibrillation (AFib), although they are looking to expand its scope to include other patients who require anticoagulation too, such as in APS (Cadrenal Therapeutics, Inc., 2023).
It has orphan drug with fast track designation from the FDA - meaning to say that it has governmental support for its development as a pharmaceutical agent for rare diseases (Cadrenal Therapeutics, n.d.). It is currently in Phase III clinical trials and in fact, since the time I drafted this section, it has already completed the ARIES-HM3 trial and presented its findings at the International Society for Heart & Lung Transplantation (ISHLT) 44th Annual Meeting & Scientific Sessions on June 3, 2024.
There are over hundreds of medications and foods that warfarin can interact with, due to the way it is metabolised by CYP2C9. Genetic variability in CYP2C9 gene can also affect the instability of INR. Tecarfarin on the other hand is metabolised by hCE-2, a pathway with no significant drug interactions, or genetic variability (Albrecht et al., 2017). It however, does not display any advantages over warfarin for people with VKORC1 polymorphisms.
In a multicentre study of 66 AFib patients for up to 12 weeks in a phase IIA trial, tecarfarin was shown to be well-tolerated without any adverse effects (Ellis et al., 2009). It was also shown to be well-tolerated in a small study of 40 healthy Chinese volunteers in a phase I trial (Zhou et al., 2023).
This means that tecarfarin might be a potential warfarin alternative or even replacement in future, as research has shown thus far similar effects as warfarin, minus the many interactions with other foods and drugs. I guess only time will tell, after it jumps through all the hoops of the essential clinical trials! (You can check out the latest research in this post.)
We’ve covered quite a bit on warfarin, because it is so important when it comes to medications and Antiphospholipid Syndrome. Another important drug is enoxaparin (brand names: Lovenox and Clexane) (Drugs.com., n.d.), which is also known as a “low molecular weight heparin” (LMWH). Two other U.S. Food and Drug Administration [FDA] approved LMWHs in the USA are dalteparin (Fragmin) and tinzaparin (Innohep). Note that they should not be used interchangeably (FDA, 2018).
Enoxaparin is a medication that’s commonly substituted for warfarin, when APS patients need to pause their warfarin intake for whatever reason. It is often used as a bridge medication between surgical operations, where there is a higher chance of excessive bleeding.
This does not only include major surgeries, but also minor ones such as dental procedures, implantation of contraceptive devices, and procedures that require intramuscular injections such as the HPV vaccine. Enoxaparin has a quicker onset as compared to warfarin, and only has a half-life of about 4.5 - 7 hours (Cook, 2010). Hence, it is safer to be on enoxaparin during periods where excessive bleeding might be anticipated. You will need to do a warfarin reversal when switching to enoxaparin, which your doctor and gynaecologist will guide you through.
Whilst derived from heparin, the final formulation of enoxaparin is different (FDA, 2018). It has a bioavailability of 90% when given in the subcutaneous form (injection into the fat just under the skin), and is a more stable and predictable drug that can be self-administered by patients at home (Jupalli & Iqbal, 2023). Pregnant women with APS generally need to substitute warfarin for enoxaparin/LMWH during the term of their pregnancy, as warfarin can be harmful to foetuses. You can read more about pregnancy with Antiphospholipid Syndrome here.
According to Lawrence (2011):
“[LMWHs and fondaparinux] target anti–factor Xa activity rather than AT [antithrombin]. With LMWH and fondaparinux, there is a reduced risk of heparin-induced thrombocytopenia (HIT), and monitoring of the aPTT is also not required, because the aPTT is insensitive to alterations in factor Xa.”
This means that the anticoagulatory mechanisms of LMWH differs from that of vitamin K antagonists, and that patients do not need to measure their INR like they do when on warfarin. I actually prefer being on enoxaparin as compared to warfarin despite the hassle of injections, because it gives me a chance to indulge in all the foods I love (yes, like broccoli and tofu...), as it does not interact with foods in the same way as VKAs do. Sadly, enoxaparin is not a good long-term medication as it is known to impair bone health and bone healing (Li et al., 2022). You can learn more about musculoskeletal manifestations in APS here.
Having said that, that does not mean that there are no drug interactions with enoxaparin. Mayo Clinic (2025) has listed some medications that can interact with enoxaparin here, and also certain medical conditions that should be highlighted to your doctor if you have them.
It is easy to get confused between enoxaparin/LMWH and heparin, since technically enoxaparin is derived from heparin. Many patients and sometimes even doctors refer to enoxaparin as heparin in casual speech. However, whilst enoxaparin can be self-administered by the patient via subcutaneous injections, unfractionated heparin (UFH) is usually given intravenously within a hospital setting, as there is a risk of Heparin Induced Thrombocytopenia (HIT) (Gruel et al., 2020).
HIT is a life-threatening condition where massive activation of platelets take place, with multi-cellular release of micro particles that contribute to hypercoagulability (Gruel et al., 2020). Compared to LMWH, unfractionated heparin is a highly variable drug as well, where almost 75% of patients fail to achieve the intended aPTT. Hence, patients need to be closely monitored when on unfractionated heparin (Krishnaswamy et al., 2010).
According to Krishnaswamy et al. (2010):
“Unfractionated heparin (UFH) exerts its effect by binding and inducing a conformational change in antithrombin (AT), converting AT to a more efficient inhibitor of circulating thrombin (factor IIa), factor Xa, factor IXa, factor XIIa, and kallikrein. Contributing to its efficiency, heparin can dissociate from the thrombin: AT complex and catalyze the activity of other AT molecules.”
Referring back to Lawrence’s (2011) explanation of the mechanisms of LMWHs, in comparison unfractionated heparin readily binds to antithrombin as well. This makes unfractionated heparin a more potent anticoagulant as compared to LMWH - but also brings with it more complications and bleeding risks. It is still an important medication to combat acute cases and medical emergencies however, such as pulmonary embolisms and heart attacks.
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DOACs stands for ‘Direct Oral Anticoagulants’, and they can be categorised into these main classifications: oral direct factor Xa inhibitors (apixaban, rivaroxaban, edoxaban, and betrixaban), and direct thrombin inhibitors (i.e. dabigatran) (Nasiri et al., 2022).
You can actually skip this entire section with a main takeaway - warfarin is still the mainstay drug for patients with Antiphospholipid Syndrome, especially for those who are high risk, or who have had a thrombosis before. However knowing me, I went down the research rabbit hole and found a lot of interesting information about these anticoagulants. I’ve actually asked my own rheumatologist before why I can’t be on DOACs as opposed to warfarin, as their benefits seemed much better. Now I know clearly why. If you’re interested to learn how DOACs work as an anticoagulant and why they aren’t quite recommended for APS patients, then read on!
DOACs are anticoagulants like VKAs, but their mechanism differs (Vasculearn Network, n.d.). The main advantages are that patients who are on DOACs need not monitor their diet or INR, and they have a rapid onset and offset of action (Pastori et al., 2021). One interesting finding about DOACs is that beyond their anticoagulation properties, they may also have an anti-inflammatory, anti-fibrotic and anti-angiogenic properties (Signorelli et al., 2018).
That might sound great, but APS patients are advised to use VKAs such as warfarin instead, especially if you've had a history of arterial thrombosis, or are triple positive, or even maybe double positive for antiphospholipid antibodies (Girón-Ortega & Girón-González, 2023; also see Bejjani et al., 2024). I personally have had multiple DVTs and a PE before, so my target INR with warfarin needs to be higher than the average APS patient, as I am at a greater risk of clotting. That can be better achieved via VKAs as compared to DOACs.
VKAs also target all phases of thrombin generation, whereas DOACs target only the initiation and/or propagation process. Rivaroxaban and apixaban in particular were found to be significantly inferior to VKAs for the prevention of recurrent thrombosis in APS patients (Girón-Ortega & Girón-González, 2023). DOACs also showed an increased risk of stroke amongst APS patients, and they may also be at a higher risk of thrombotic events (Shah et al., 2023).
Another problem with DOACs is that not all of them have an antidote at present, and more studies are yet to be done as to their safety and efficacy in actual patients. There are also specific groups of individuals whom DOACs are not suitable for, such as those with poor renal function, who have a prosthetic heart valve, a disorder of haemostasis, amongst others (Tran et al., 2014).
A blood clot is also known as a thrombus, and thrombin plays an important role in the blood clotting process. Thrombin converts fibrinogen to fibrin, which is a tough protein that forms blood clots to seal wound sites. Thrombin is also the most potent platelet agonist (i.e. clots the blood). The more technical explanation, according to Posma et al. (2019):
“Activation of the blood coagulation cascade leads to fibrin deposition and platelet activation that are required for hemostasis. However, aberrant activation of coagulation can lead to thrombosis. Thrombi can cause tissue ischemia, and fibrin degradation products and activated platelets can enhance inflammation.”
According to Eriksson et al. (2011):
"DTIs directly neutralize thrombin by occupying the catalytic binding site, fibrinogen binding site, or both. DTIs also inhibit both fluid-phase and fibrin-bound thrombin."
They do pretty much what their name states - inhibition of thrombin, which results in a reduction of blood clotting. A key advantage of DTIs is their ability to bind directly to thrombin, and they do not bind to other plasma proteins either (Lee & Ansell, 2011).
The only approved DTI for use at present is dabigatran etexilate, which is a prodrug that metabolises into dabigatran in the body. Other DTIs such as ximelagatran have been withdrawn due to hepatotoxicity reports (Posma et al., 2019; van Ryn et al., 2013). Dabigatran is approved in over 70 countries, for the purpose of stroke prevention in patients with atrial fibrillation, and for the prevention of thrombosis after orthopaedic hip and knee surgery (van Ryn et al., 2013).
Whilst dabigatran seems to be a highly effective anticoagulant with a good safety profile thus far, it is important to note that it is primarily used in patients who don’t have Antiphospholipid Syndrome. International guidelines still indicate VKAs as the choice drug for patients with APS, especially if they have experienced a blood clotting event before, or are a high-risk patient, such as being triple positive (Pastori et al., 2021).
Factor Xa inhibitors on the other hand, reduces thrombin generation, and thus interferes with the process of fibrinogen to fibrin conversion. They also have no direct effect on platelet aggregation. It is theorised that this targeted action on factor Xa serves to limit the cascade of thrombin generation, and therefore less of the drug may be needed as compared to a DTI. Factor Xa also has minimal functions outside of coagulation, unlike thrombin, and side effects may be more contained (Cabral & Ansell, 2015).
Apixaban (brand name: Eliquis) is a DOAC originally approved for atrial fibrillation (Afib) patients to reduce the risk of strokes and blood clots. It was later approved to treat DVTs and PEs (pulmonary embolisms) as well. It is a highly selective factor Xa inhibitor that exerts no effect on platelet aggregation, and mainly binds to plasma protein (Agrawal et al., 2024). Side effects of taking apixaban are similar to other anticoagulant drugs, and include: bleeding, red or black, tarry stools, red, pink or brown urine, trouble breathing, dizziness, coughing up blood or material that looks like coffee grounds, and more (National Library of Medicine [NLM], 2025).
Rivaroxaban (brand name: Xarelto) is another type of DOAC under the factor Xa class (NLM, 2023). Based on the data available to date, rivaroxaban is less effective than VKAs in the prevention of recurrent thrombosis, but more research needs to be done as to its efficacy (Girón-Ortega & Girón-González, 2023).
A study of 120 high risk APS patients was terminated early due to the higher incidence of thromboembolic events for those who were on rivaroxaban, whereas none occurred in the group on warfarin (Pengo et al., 2018).
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Patients who are on anticoagulants ironically run the risk of excessive bleeding or a haemorrhage, and not all DOACs have an antidote; the antidotes that are available are also expensive. In cases of severe bleeding, patients need to undergo reversal of their anticoagulant medication via a haemostatic agent.
According to Tomaselli et al. (2020) and Kustos and Fasinu (2019), these are the current reversal agents used for anticoagulant drugs during emergencies:
This is just a brief, general guideline, and many more considerations need to be taken into account on an individual basis during an emergency. Please work with your own doctors and emergency care team for the best outcome.
Andexanet alfa is administered via intravenous infusion with an onset time of 2 minutes. Side effects are primarily hot flashes and antibody development; they may also induce blood clotting ironically and result in strokes, DVTs, PEs, cardiac failure and more (Kustos & Fasinu, 2019; also see Escal et al., 2024). It is currently only approved for use as an antidote for apixaban and rivaroxaban, whilst its safety and efficacy is still being evaluated in relation to edoxaban and betrixaban.
Learn more about how APS affects major organs such as the lungs, brain and heart in this post.
Ciraparantag is a reversal agent still undergoing clinical trials, but shows promise as a non-immunogenic antidote for a wide array of anticoagulants (all types of DOACs, heparins and fondaparinux) (Escal et al., 2024).
Non-specific pharmacokinetic antidotes are sometimes used in addition to reversal agents to increase coagulation effects. According to Escal et al. (2024), these include:
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Proteases are important regulators of cellular activity, and they communicate directly to cells via protease-activated receptors (PARs). There are four different PAR profiles, from PAR1 to PAR4, which are expressed widely in the body, from the brain to lungs, muscles, bones, bladder and more (Han et al., 2021). PAR1, PAR3 and PAR4 are activated by thrombin, whereas Factor Xa activates PAR2, although other proteases can also contribute to activation (Posma et al., 2019).
Inflammation is at the tail end of the blood coagulation cascade, as can be seen from a graphic in this paper by Posma et al. (2019).
According to Burzynski et al. (2019):
“The current principal link between coagulation and immunity is cleavage of PARs by thrombin, which produces cytokines and inflammation.”
This reveals a direct link between coagulation and the immune system, which is an exciting perspective. What this means is that future Antiphospholipid Syndrome treatments might shift to an immunological one, instead of merely targeting anticoagulation. Unfortunately, despite the implication of PARs in Antiphospholipid Syndrome, there are no ongoing trials for APS patients (Signorelli et al., 2018). Let’s keep our fingers crossed! (Read this post for the latest research on APS.)
Vorapaxar is a first-in-class PAR1 antagonist approved for use by the FDA, for patients with coronary artery disease. Unfortunately, it is contraindicated for patients who have had thrombotic or bleeding events in the past. Like all antiplatelet agents, vorapaxar increases the risk of bleeding, which can be fatal. It also has a long half-life and no antidote (Han et al., 2021; Signorelli et al., 2018).
Another PAR-1 antagonist is atopaxar, but research has been discontinued as clinical trials in phase II demonstrated a high risk for bleeding with the drug (Zhao et al., 2013).
NSAIDs (Non-Steroidal Anti-Inflammatory Drugs) are a class of anti-inflammatories that people often take for generic pain relief. You’re probably familiar with these over-the-counter drugs that go by the names of: Ibuprofen, Naproxen and Aspirin. Brand names include Neurofen, Advil, Motrin, Aleve, Alka-Seltzer, Pepto-Bismol, and more (Harvard Health Publishing, 2019).
To be honest, NSAIDS would probably work better for my Lupus and Sjögren’s pains because of their anti-inflammatory properties, but I can’t take them due to interactions with warfarin. As I’m also allergic to paracetamol (Panadol), I can only rely on opioid classes of painkillers for pain relief.
NSAIDs interfere with blood clotting by inhibiting platelet function. Platelets (also known as thrombocytes) are essential components in our blood that help with clotting (Cleveland Clinic, 2024). Hence, patients who are on blood thinning medications have a higher risk of bleeding with NSAIDs.
There is also an increased risk of gastrointestinal bleeding and peptic ulcers with NSAIDs due to the mechanisms of the medication (Drini, 2017), which is also the biggest concern my rheumatologist has with them. I only use NSAIDs when absolutely necessary, such as during a high fever, and inform my healthcare team when I do so. I also take extra measures to protect my stomach such as eating proper meals, and check my own INR regularly.
In this post, we have covered medications and Antiphospholipid Syndrome, as well as some of the important drugs that can interact with warfarin, and new medications that are undergoing clinical trials.
I hope that this post on medications and Antiphospholipid Syndrome has been insightful and useful to you whether as an APS patient, or someone who is caring for one. Should you have any questions, experiences to share, or corrections (I am not a doctor, after all!), feel free to leave a comment below. Don’t forget to check out the rest of the posts in the Antiphospholipid Syndrome series listed below as well. Wishing you all the best that life can still bring!
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Start a new conversation in the Member Comments below!And this is what leads to full doctor burnout, which no one ever addresses or even thinks about...
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