Immunity : Unfiltered

Notting Hill is so Boujie and Aesthetic! The rent in one of these flats is on average 4k a MONTH! This past weekend, I found myself in London for rehearsals, staying in a beautiful little hostel in Notting Hill. It was my own private room, and I felt incredibly safe—so clean and well-maintained that I could truly relax. A rare thing when traveling, especially with my health concerns. Of course, I had to do my infusion a couple of days early, which meant I was traveling from Cardiff to London feeling the delightful aftereffects of an infusion hangover. Never ideal, but what can you do? The Hostel: A Hidden Gem free fooooood?! The actual hostel was gorgeous—far beyond what I had expected. It had a peaceful garden space, shared bathrooms that were cleaned hourly (which, as any seasoned traveller will know, is an absolute game-changer), and free hot meals for guests. There was even a gym and wellness centre, though I didn't go in. Still, it’s lovely knowing it’s there. study room-s...

Today, the weight of the disability reforms hit me hard. The rhetoric surrounding disabled people needing to "try harder" or "fit in" is exhausting, and the pressure to justify my existence, let alone my needs, feels overwhelming. I found myself spiralling into a state of stress, and I knew I needed to step back and take some time for myself. British Politics pisses me off at the best of times, and this wasn't the type of PMQs sesh I could take the piss out of, and it sent me into a panic attack. Irrationl. It left me feeling like a rat in a cage, and I had to spend that restless energy somehow! I started with a short walk, just enough to get some fresh air and clear my head. Then, I went to the spa—one of the few places where I truly feel at ease. I am incredibly grateful to be a member, as it allows me to access the sauna, which always helps with my breathing, especially now. My chest is still full of mucus from the flu, and the warmth of the sauna seemed to ...

  The past few weeks have been incredibly difficult. Chronic illness always brings its own kind of isolation, but lately, it has felt sharper—more present. I feel stretched so thin I might just disappear altogether. And if something had to give, of course, it was work. Not that you could even call it a “job” in the traditional sense. I work on a zero-hours contract, solely on call time and commission because my condition fluctuates too much for a set schedule. Even with that level of accommodation, I almost lost my job this week—if you can call it that. I woke up to an email threatening to suspend my account if I didn’t log in. So, I put everything on hold, cancelled a doctor’s appointment, and worked, because I had no choice. But I still have to attend a respiratory appointment later this week—an hour away—and all things considered, that’s non-negotiable. It’s exhausting, and not just physically. My social battery is utterly fried. I expected that, to a degree. The afterparty fo...

Mama cooked for dinner tonight, because I didn't have the spoons! I am so grateful!!!  Today has been one of those days where the past and present seem to blur together—equal parts routine, nostalgia, and absurdity. Plasma Infusion day!  My morning started, with my weekly Hizentra plasma infusion. It’s a lifeline, quite literally. Every week, I sit down, prepare my supplies, and let the immunoglobulin drip into my body, replacing what my immune system fails to produce. It’s a process that takes time and patience, but it keeps me going. I made sure to stay hydrated, drinking water to keep the post-infusion headache at bay, but my mind was elsewhere. I was mourning the loss of Michelle Trachtenberg. It hit me in a way I didn’t expect—she was such a big part of the shows I grew up with, especially Buffy the Vampire Slayer . Dawn Summers was a divisive character, but I always had a soft spot for her. Maybe it was because she was the outsider trying to prove herself, constantly fig...

Lately, I’ve been reminding myself just how important self-care is—not just in the usual face-mask-and-bubble-bath way, but in the deep, foundational sense of listening to my body and understanding my limits. I’m currently doing tech for Newtown Amateur Dramatics, and while I’m still not 100% over my chest infection, I’m pushing forward in the ways I can, with gratitude in my heart. I owe so much to my immunologist, whose expertise has helped me navigate the complexities of chronic illness. In theatre, we often equate our worth with our achievements—the applause, the standing ovations, the perfect execution of a scene. And when chronic illness disrupts our ability to be productive, to meet our own high standards, it’s easy to fall into self-criticism. But I’ve been learning a valuable lesson about blunt communication—how directness doesn’t necessarily mean rudeness, and how not every straightforward statement is a personal attack. When productivity is unpredictable, it’s important to...

Flu Season: A Personal Reflection on Influenza A and Immunocompromised People As the cold winds of winter settle in, I’m reminded that flu season is here. For many, the flu is a nuisance—something to endure with a bit of rest and a cup of hot tea. But for those of us living with chronic conditions, like Common Variable Immunodeficiency (CVID), the flu can be a far more serious threat. Influenza A, in particular, carries increased risks for those with weakened immune systems, and this is something I’ve come to understand all too well in my own life. Currently, I’m unwell with Influenza A. Though I have been prescribed antibiotics and am awaiting a prescription for an antiviral, I consider myself lucky. Why? Because I recognized something was wrong before the illness fully took hold, which allowed me to seek early intervention. This was, admittedly, only possible because I was persistent—some might say a bit annoying —and vocal about how I was feeling. Trusting my body and being proac...

I came home on Sunday feeling utterly broken. Not just the usual post-travel exhaustion, but something deeper—like my body was waving a little white flag of surrender. At first, I chalked it up to overdoing it, to pushing too hard. Then came the sniffle. A few days passed, and the sniffle didn’t go away. So, I did what any chronically ill person learns to do: I sent in a sputum pot and a swab, because sometimes, a cold is never just a cold. And sure enough, the results came back with a delightful double feature—pseudomonas and influenza A. Because of course. Because why wouldn’t my flu vaccine fail this year? That was exactly what I needed. The Battle Plan Off to the GP I went, where I was handed antibiotics for a chest infection. I took them dutifully, hoping they’d be enough. But after a few days of feeling just as awful—fever, exhaustion, lungs like lead—immunology intervened. They suggested adding an antiviral to the mix, because apparently, I wasn’t done collecting diagnoses ...

Some weekends are special—not just for where you go, but for the moments you collect along the way. This past weekend was one of those, filled with good company, history, and the start of something extraordinary. Tea, Tradition, and a Familiar Favourite I started the weekend in the best way possible: tea at my favourite place with my dear friend T. There’s something about a proper cream tea that feels like a warm embrace from history itself—fluffy scones, clotted cream, and the kind of conversation that reminds you why you hold certain people close. London Calling: From Rehearsals to the Rosetta Stone After our leisurely tea a few days later, it was time for something entirely different—my first rehearsal for Vision: The Musical . There’s always a particular energy to the first day of a new production, the hum of possibility mingling with the excitement of meeting castmates who will soon become family probably... Getting the train from Cardiff into London is really easy.  New ...