From an early age, I had red cheeks (the colour of health, doctors said). In my adolescence, my hair thinned (stress, doctors said). My nose was bleeding (cauterization, doctors said). During my first pregnancy, I began to experience tachycardias. After the birth of my first child, my white blood cells were low (accidental, doctors said). My eyes were dry (10/10 vision, doctors said). My mouth was dry (drink water, doctors said). I had pain in my fingers, elbows and shoulders (tiredness, tendonitis, doctors said).

Completely by accident, at 45, someone mentioned that I might have an autoimmune disease. Appointments, examinations, biopsies and the final diagnosis followed: Sjogren's Syndrome (rare, doctors said) and lupus (typical symptoms, doctors said). I tried hard to find a doctor who I could trust and who would listen, believe me and heal me. Years passed with hardships and disappointments, but I finally found a doctor and I thank him with all my heart.

Now at 61, I have overcome some of the problems due to my autoimmune diseases (ablation for supraventricular tachycardia, cortisone treatment, artificial tears, year-round swimming, etc.). But I still wonder, why after all these years, so many doctors just focus on their specialties, and why it took me so long to find a doctor who would recognise my symptoms, taking into account my suspicions or irrelevant quirks (broken veins, low temperature, snowshoes...).

I now live with my autoimmune diseases and I have got used to them. They've taught me sensitivity, understanding, love and how to help others even just by listening to them. And above all, I have learnt to never to give up. My pain can't be measured, but it's mine. My loved ones need me, want me, and I have to be strong.