Chapter 4
Not Again!
(January - March 2025)
The Attacks Return
It started on a Friday morning in January. Tremors. Violent shaking episodes. They came thick and fast. I spent the whole day in bed, doing everything I could to stop them - resting, sleeping, breathing. Nothing helped.
The next day, I tried to shower. Another episode. Any energy I had gained was instantly gone. I collapsed back into bed.
By Sunday and Monday, the episodes hadn't eased. After talking to a friend, I called 111. They advised me to go to A&E. My husband was working, so I asked my friend to drive me. As I was checking in, another attack began, and I was taken straight to triage.
Bloods. ECG. Tremors. Shaking. My jaw locked, my fists clenched, my body shook violently. I remained conscious throughout. They monitored me closely, taking my vitals, giving oxygen when needed.
I was admitted overnight. My friend stayed with me most of the afternoon. I made my husband stay home with the kids - there was nothing anyone could do. Just wait and watch.
Meditation & Monitoring
The next day, my husband came after the school run, bringing my headphones. I put on meditation music. Closed my eyes. Finally… sleep. He spoke to the doctor while I drifted off. He said I was still having attacks in my sleep, but they were slowing.
Doctors wanted to monitor me for another 24 hours. They were waiting to hear from my neurologist and find me a bed. They stopped oxygen - my episodes weren’t as strong. When I told them my neuro appointment wasn’t for eight weeks, I asked to discharge myself. They weren’t thrilled, but I explained my husband could monitor me just as well at home.
I went home, exhausted but safe.
"Is This It?"
Friends and family couldn’t believe it. “Is that it?”
Surely someone should be able to do something?
But this is the reality of Functional Neurological Disorder. There’s no miracle scan. No simple fix. It’s about maintenance - balancing activity, rest, and recovery.
If I pushed through, my body would shut down. Reboot.
And if I didn’t listen to it?
Then… episode time.
So I did what I could: rest, reset, and sleep.
Nine Days
Nine days of attacks. Bed to chair. Chair to bed. My world had shrunk again.
Why?
I was barely moving… so why was my body shutting down?
Eventually, we realised:
I had rested my body, but not my mind.
Life at home had been stressful. I hadn’t processed it. But when I played meditation music, my body responded. It knew what to do. It relaxed.
That was what slowed the episodes.
March 2025 - Back To Neurology
We met with my consultant again. She remembered us from almost a year ago—genuinely remembered us.
We caught her up. Everything since then:
Homeopathy, meditation, EMDR and Brainspotting, the pain clinic, Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (or lack of it), how neuro physio didn’t exist for me, all the techniques I’d tried - breathing, journaling, searching for patterns.
She was kind. She acknowledged the impact the diagnosis had - how oncology stepped back once it was no longer cancer. That wasn’t what she had wanted.
Diagnosis Confirmed
She ran through all the tests again:
Reflexes. Strength. Gait.
Diagnosis: still Functional Neurological Disorder(FND) and Non Epileptic Attack Disorder (NEAD).
She would refer me to the NEAD team at Salford. The waiting list? 18 to 24 months.
Rochdale doesn’t offer that service. Another postcode lottery.
She had referred me for neuro rehab almost a year ago. The response came back in January:
It doesn’t exist here.
Now she would apply for funding. Fingers crossed.
The Brain & Walking
She explained my brain function using a brilliant analogy.
When toddlers learn to walk, it’s a conscious action. But eventually, it becomes reflex - it bypasses the thinking brain.
In me, that reflex is gone. My thinking brain is trying to do it all. But I’m autistic, which already slows my processing. So now?
I’m a snail.
The goal? Retrain my brain so walking becomes a reflex again.
Rehab Begins
She gave me one simple task to start rehab:
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Stand with my feet together for 1 minute.
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Master it? Then 2 minutes. Then 3.
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Then repeat it with eyes closed.
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Then try it with music playing.
By doing this, we’re trying to shift walking back to the unconscious part of my brain. Like moving a file from the desktop back into storage.
Holding On To Hope
She confirmed again: my strength was fine. She wasn’t surprised. FND doesn’t affect strength.
I told her about my mobility scooter - how I’d moved from a wheelchair to that 9 months ago. She asked about my mobility at home and hoped that with time and rehab, I might eventually be crutch-free on one level of the house.
Outside and on stairs? I’d still need help.
Another appointment in a year’s time.
I had a goal. A hope. A start.