So it's one year on since I first thought that I might be ill. I wasn't going to reflect on it until someone at the hospital said that it's good to look back so I could appreciate my improvement. I'm not really sure what he meant because I had only just met him and he didn't know whether I'd improved or not, I think he was on a lot of drugs.

I've always tried to keep myself fit without ever going down the 'body-beautiful' route. Sport has always been important to me and even though I never did win a 6 nations grand slam I did my small bit pushing around the scrums of different clubs week in week out
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For me life has always been about today so it's not like I thought it would never happen to me but it just wouldn't happen today. Then of course it did happen, but over six or so months. It started with my legs going weak and feeling a bit tingly, the doctor said I might be run down. Next I was having trouble walking up the stairs and hills, the doctor said it might be something rheumatic. Three months in and my walk looked like I had on wooden legs and the doctor sent me to a neurologist. A month later and my arms were weak and my fingers wouldn't work.

Anyone who knows me knows that music means more to me than anything so me not able to play my guitar is about as bad as things could get for me. I remember playing a gig in Horsham (support to Seth Lakeman) and I had a feeling somewhere inside that this was the last gig I was going to play for a while. My legs could barely hold me up, my back ached because of my hunched walk, and I could just about hold down the chords on the guitar. Afterwards I hid in a backroom and was so physically and mentally wrecked that I just lay on the floor and really wanted to die there and then, not commit suicide you understand but just die and then the pain would stop and the mental torture would just go away. At this stage the doctors still had no clue what the hell was wrong with me.

All the time this was going on I had an endless stream of people who were self styled net-doctors, this resulted with me being told on a daily basis that I could have any number of horrible things wrong with me. I'm sure all these people were trying to help but really they didn't, not one bit, in fact they only succeeded in scaring me half to death every time I was told I could be dead in a few months.

By the time the doctors finally figured out everything I was unable to move anything from my kneck down, I had full feeling and sensation but couldn't move anything. I was not happy.

The condition I have is called C.I.D.P. and I'm not going to bore you with what all that means and the symptoms because you can just google it and find out.

Now one year on I don't feel too bad. After treatment I can walk a bit and best of all I can play guitar again. I have monthly relapses and need to go back to hospital every time for five or so days.

A friend of mine asked me if I felt cheated and the answer is no. I refuse to grouse or complain about my illness and I try to keep my day as full as possible. I kind of see it as a way of re-focusing my life and doing new things that I could never have done before. I want to do a degree and I want to write a lot more, I want to play lots more gigs and see a lot more shows. I don't believe in a god or an afterlife so the one life I have been given I'm going to enjoy just like always did and live for today because you never know what the doctor might say tomorrow