You know how some days you’re in so much pain from your fibromyalgia that you can’t breathe, so you go look out your office window in hopes of seeing some hummingbirds at your feeder, but instead there’s just a squirrel humping a tree branch? Welcome to my day.
And This Is Why No One Wants To Be A Fly On Our Wall
So the other day I was stupid (SHOCKER!).
After about 10 days of actually being able to get out of the house and go to actual, live events and interact with actual, live human beings, my fibro reared up and said, “ENOUGH!”
And so I planned a day of rest.
Which to me, of course meant, “Don’t take your pain medicine in the morning, because you will be driving yourself to the bookstore-the one that involves driving up the highway to get to-so that you can finally buy that book you’ve been thinking about for the past week. And then, five hours later, be crying and in excruciating pain. Without even having made it to the bookstore.”
Because unfortunately, as Lynne frequently reminds me, “Pain makes you stupid.” Meaning that, after your pain gets to a certain level, you truly do become unable to access your higher brain functions. And then you forget how to take care of yourself and do really stupid things like suffer for five hours with excruciating pain instead of taking your pain medicine.
And the really sad thing was that I knew that I was going to do exactly the same thing the next day, and the day after that, if I didn’t stage some sort of intervention for myself.
So I called my husband and explained the situation to him, and after he reminded me to TAKE YOUR DAMN PAIN MEDICINE ALREADY, WOMAN!, he agreed to take me to the bookstore that evening in order to preempt further stupidity on my part. Because he’s nice like that.
As he’d never been with me to this particular bookstore before, I did my best to provide him with directions, part of which included the fact that, “it’s in the same shopping center as the Best Buy.”
And while he has been to that particular shopping center before, he’d never been to that store before. So he didn’t believe me. Even though I have been to that bookstore, on multiple occasions, and so I clearly knew what I was talking about.
Finally we got close enough to see the store from where we were, but even then, when I pointed out the actual, physical building to him, he still didn’t believe me.
“Look,” I finally said in frustration, “I know what I’m talking about. They’re in the same shopping center.”
“All right,” my husband grudgingly granted me, “but when we get there, I’D BETTER SEE CONTIGUOUS PARKING LOT.”
“YES,” I declared, “YOU WILL. THERE WILL BE CONTIGUOUS PARKING LOT THERE FOR YOU TO SEE, I PROMISE.”
We are such dorks, I know. But I’m also pretty sure that no one else ever has as much fun as we do.
Today’s Hairstyle Is Called…
Cranky Fibro Girl And The Puzzle
Today is not like yesterday.
Yesterday the pain was a smoldering bonfire directly above the bend in my elbows, slowly unfurling its tentacles until it completely took over my hands.
Today the pain is metal bands clamped to the top of my forearms, blowing out the pain with the force of a flame thrower, until it shoots out of my fingertips and into the space around me.
Today is not like yesterday.
Today I was able to eat a full meal for lunch-black bean tortillas, if you’re interested.
Yesterday the best I could do was an occasional handful of raisins, a little dish of pretzels, an empty pita, and a diet soda.
Today is not like yesterday.
Today it’s sunny and warm, and I can sit in my office in just a short-sleeved T-shirt.
Yesterday it was sunny, but I required both a sweater and a hoodie in order to be able to work out here.
Could this change in the weather have caused changes in my fibromyalgia? Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t know.
Today is not like yesterday.
Yesterday I only needed x amount of pain medicine all day.
Today it isn’t even noon and I already need y amount.
Today is not like yesterday.
Yesterday I couldn’t bend my fingers or open anything with a twist-off lid.
Today my fingers are swollen and my wrists are on fire, but I am able to type a blog post.
Today is not like yesterday.
Two nights ago I slept all right, with my trusty earplugs and my glorious CPAP machine.
When I woke up, the pain was at, oh, say Level C.
Last night I slept so soundly, I don’t think I changed positions the whole night.
Same earplugs, same CPAP machine.
But today when I woke up, the pain was at Level F, and threatening to descend even more.
Today is not like yesterday.
Yesterday I was able to make it through the day without binging-food, exercise, buying books, obsessive-compulsive thinking-in order to numb the pain.
Today, that option is looking mighty damn attractive.
Today is not like yesterday.
Today is not like yesterday, because fibromyalgia is a puzzle, where all of the pieces are always in constant motion, and are always shape-shifting into something different and new.
Imagine if this were your job,
What was waiting for you in your office when you arrived every morning.
This is what we wake up to every day.
And everyday we must re-learn the fact,
that today is not like yesterday.
Sorry For The Lack Of Posts Lately
And THIS Would Be Why I Need So Much Checking Up On
or, “preventing me from taking those first, perilous steps down the road of Accidentally Becoming A Lying Sack Of Sh*t”.
Yesterday:
My husband calls me from work to check on me.
My husband: “So what’s your pain level?”
Me: “Actually, I’m not having any pain.”
My husband: “Great!”
Me: “Although I do have a really bad headache.”
My husband: pauses for a beat
My husband: “And that doesn’t count as pain?”
Me: “Hm…I guess I never thought about it like that.”
****
This morning:
My husband is getting ready to leave for work.
My husband: “So what’s your pain level?”
Me: actually taking time to tune into my body
Me: “Time to take an Ultram-level.”
My husband: watches to make sure I actually do, since pain flare-ups frequently result in the loss of my short-term memory
Me: “You know, it’s a good thing you asked, because I knew I was in pain, but I was just gonna wait to see if got better on its own.”
My husband: “What a surprise.”
Signs That Your Chronic Fatigue Is Winning
1. The barely controlled urge to punch out everyone in the grocery store for the sole reason that they exist on this earth.
2. The compulsive need to inventory every single one of your 400 or so Facebook and Twitter friends one-by-one to decide whether or not you still “need” that connection.
3. Forgetting that your husband is a scientist and an engineer when, in the course of a conversation about text messages never received, you accidentally blurt out, “Oh-I wonder if mercury is in retrograde again?”
And This Is Why God Sent Me Lynne
One
Lynne: “So, how have you been?”
Me: “Well, I almost emailed you to ask you if 5 days was too long to take to recover from two months of excruciating pain.”
Lynne: snorting and choking on her drink
Me: “But then I heard your voice in my head, so I didn’t”
Lynne: “And did you hear the cackling laughter?”
Me: “I did.”
Lynne: “Good.”
Two
Lynne: “So how are you doing?”
Me: “Pretty good. The pain’s not really that bad. I’ve only had to take two or three Ultram today.”
Lynne: “Really?”
Me: “Hm. I guess maybe the pain is that bad.”
Lynne: “Maybe so. Remember that you have that new prescription.”
Me: “Oh yeah.”
Lynne: “So have you filled it yet?”
Me. “No. I think about it, and I’ve come close a couple of times. But I haven’t done it.”
Lynne: “Well call your husband right now and ask him to fill it for you so that next time you can COME CLOSE TO TAKING IT!”
Spiral Bound
Much as our nation utilizes the various DEFCON levels to alert us to potential external threats, I myself have a finely tuned system of personal alerts which let me know when my internal systems are getting a little out of whack. I’ve pretty much passed through all of them over this last week, so they are fresh in my mind to share with you here.
Level 5: It’s All Good
Level 4: Lack of Interest in Food
This can also show up as Only Eating One Thing, like butter sandwiches, for days on end.
Level 3: Lack of Interest in Reading
Level 2: Lack of Interest in Cleaning
This is also frequently accompanied by Never Changing Out Of My Pajamas, as well as An Extremely Sharp Decline In Personal Hygiene.
Level 1: Spirals Of Doom
By the time I hit Level 1 I’m spending most of my time on the couch, partly because I lack the energy to go anywhere else, and partly because I believe that the couch has natural, inherent healing qualities. As a matter of fact, when we had the opportunity to get a new couch a couple of years ago I didn’t want to. As I told my husband, “The couch we have now has Magical Healing Powers, but if we get a new couch, then that one might not.” If I never knew that my husband loved me before I certainly did then, because not only did he NOT laugh, he said, “We’ll make sure we get one that does.”
While I’m stuck on the couch I generally pass the time by watching the process my mind goes through where, seeing that I’m feeling bad, it attempts to create a really depressing story in order to make me feel even worse. Here is an example of one of my recent “Spirals of Doom”.
As I believe I’ve mentioned before, I have been experiencing some difficulties with migraines this summer (and of course, “difficulties” is a euphemism for “searing pain up and down the entire right side of my head, neck, and shoulder, accompanied by razor blades in my stomach off and on for three months”.) So one evening as I dragged myself off the couch to take yet another pain pill, I happened to look in the mirror and notice that my eyes were really red and irritated. My mind took in that data, processed it, and came up with the following story:
“Well, here I am having to take medicine AGAIN for this horrible migraine, which will never go away no matter what I do, which means that I will be sick and miserable for the rest of my life. I will never ever feel well again. I’ll just be an invalid, miserable and in pain forever, a drain on my family and friends because I will never be well enough to be productive or contribute ever again. And, the fact that I keep having to take all of this medicine is raising my blood pressure, and I just know that soon the pressure will become too much and my head will explode, and my eyes will pop out, causing all of my insides to ooze out everywhere, making me gross, disgusting, and repulsive, and this will cause everyone I love to cast me out because I am too hideous to be around, and so I will end up homeless, penniless, and wretched, to die on the streets alone.” And in that moment, I totally believed that every single piece of this was absolutely true.
The good news is that I know myself well enough now to know that this is part of a whole process that I go through, and eventually I do come out again on the other side. So these days when it is going on I am able to keep a tiny part of my brain detached, as an observer, to kind of monitor things and remind me that, “this too shall pass”.
This is the part of me that takes notes and gathers materials from all of my experiences, and is considering putting out a “Greatest Hits” collection of my most popular spirals. This collection would include such popular favorites as, “Everything Is Just An Illusion, So Nothing I Do Matters”, “We’re All Going To Die One Day Anyway, So What Is The Point Of Doing Anything?”, and “No Matter What I Do I Just Can’t Fix This, And I’ll Never Be Able To, So I Am Going To End Up Poverty-Stricken And Alone, And Then I Will Die.”
Then again, maybe I’ll just fix myself another butter sandwich, and go stretch out on the couch for a while.
