Chronic fatigue syndrome dating site

In June 1992, at a specialist ME clinic in London, where Lynn had been admitted for tests, we found her sobbing quietly in her bed. I hate being ill.’I wanted to weep for the pain she was suffering, yet Lynn remained cheerful and resilient, loving and thoughtful.I had to lean close to hear what she was saying, because by then her voice had faded to a whisper. ‘One of the nurses started laughing at me and called me a silly little girl. All this despite being in hospital, or lying in a darkened room, unable to walk, talk, feed herself, use the toilet, read, or listen to music.She’d had her TB jab that morning and wasn’t feeling well. ‘I’m sorry to drag you away from work, Mum, but I feel sick and faint,’ she said.

But by her 30th birthday on September 20, 2007, even Lynn had given up. I thought about all the things she’d put up with in 17 years of illness: people disbelieving her, doctors sticking huge needles into her spine, her veins collapsing, contracting MRSA in hospital. Rest easy now, my darling.’ For hours afterwards I sat beside her, stroking her hair. I must have assumed what she’d already taken was a fatal overdose; it would certainly have killed most people.

After an hour and 45 minutes behind closed doors, the jury is about to reveal whether they think I deliberately set out to murder my beloved daughter, Lynn. I reach for the locket I have worn throughout the nine-day trial, containing a picture of Lynn and some strands of her hair.

I know how much Lynn would have hated my having to go through this.

Now, she was suffering kidney and heart problems, osteoporosis, liver dysfunction, adrenal failure and an underactive thyroid. I wasn’t trying to kill her — I just didn’t want her to suffer.

I couldn’t see how she could ever lead a normal life. Lynn’s breathing settled and that awful gurgling noise stopped.

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Lynn thought she had ruined our lives, but she hadn’t. For the next 17 years, Lynn endured an unending string of hospital tests that revealed one frustrating and inconclusive result after another, and doctors who rarely offered much hope. Her big hazel eyes were filled with tears and she lifted up a large syringe. I told myself Lynn had said repeatedly that she did not want to be kept alive by machines — yet she had also told me she didn’t want to suffer. Realising Lynn hadn’t had all the usual medications I gave her to keep her comfortable, I hurried to the kitchen, counted out her tablets, crushed them and diluted them.

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