Buying A Purple Shirt While Eating Jelly Beans

This is a picture i took for the Candy article.

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This is the kind of post you want to read on a Monday afternoon when the clouds are all gray and gloomy and it is the start of a brand new week. The orange-green-red leaves on the trees are swaying and they look like they want to cry. I’m thinking about the future and living somewhere else where the sun stays out all day and you don’t have to wear a thick black jacket.  The only perk today is that our house is clean and it looks pretty. There are no cobwebs that I can see and the wood shines like a Pledge commercial. It smells lemony and the beds are made and the sheets are fresh and I am planning to take a hot bath tonight. It’s against house rules to put your dirty body into a brand new made-up bed with sheets and blankets that beckon you and smile.

It’s our friend Christina’s 16th birthday and she looked so sweet and innocent and happy like a shiny polished Macintosh apple. My son drives her to school and back every day along with his sister seated proudly in the front seat. Christina was wearing the soft beige scarf that my daughter gave her for her birthday. Her arms were packed with brownies and oatmeal cookies and chocolate cake that her school friends made for her birthday celebration. Oh to be young, filled with sweetness, innocence and incomparable joy. I see myself in young Christina, all eager and willing to please, her arms outstretched for a big, warm, hug.

I’m listening to music to quell the anxiety that has been plaguing me for the last week. It starts in the late afternoon and escalates until nighttime; my stomach clenches and my legs ache with unbearable pain. My aches and pains stem from stubborn, bossy, Fibromyalgia and sleep comes as a welcome relief.

I’ve taken down all the photographs of my children when they were very young and replaced them with an up-to-date picture of the two of them grinning, their eyes alive with mischief; my son’s arm casually draped around his sister’s shoulders. I had to beg and plead a lot for that one portrait. While I am extremely proud of my children’s independence I have had a few problems lately adjusting to it.  I can’t forget the moment last year when my son said patiently “Mom, High School is one big lie.” It is a message that has been burned into my brain and I think of it often.  I didn’t believe him then but I do now. Apparently, lies are commonplace but I need to force myself to look deeper, for honor, and not compare my past, unhappy and burdened youth to their present, over-indulged happy lives.

I am booking a massage at the local spa, a gift I received for my birthday, and I am looking forward to it. There, I will not think of the last year, tension pressed up against stress like two sweaty lovers: unemployment and illness together as one.  I will fantasize about traveling, seeing the tulips in Holland, a trip to Israel in the spring, perhaps the countryside of Spain. I will picture my loving husband’s face, his hand in mine, playing the punch buggy game in the car and competing in the “I love you more” contest. I will remember that when I asked him for a phrase, another definition for “empty nest” he threw his head back, howled loudly, with glee and in a snap of a second he shouted: “Freedom.” I love him so much in many ways but I especially love him for giving me that.

Dedicated to Danny

People Called Me Lazy

free 'sweet' hugs

My Fibromyalgia was diagnosed four years ago along with an autoimmune (Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis) disease and a connective tissue disorder. They both were gifts I got after menopause. Thanks. I’d rather burst into tears a hundred times and change night shirts six times a night than have this. I’m sure I’ve had Fibromyalgia for a long time, I just didn’t know what it was.

I never had the same amount of energy that other people had and I always needed ten hours of sleep. I can’t function on less than eight but ten is ideal. Let’s not forget the nap too. I used to nap every day for three hours, every single day and I would head to bed at 9:3o pm each night. Every bone in my body hurt, I  thought I had the flu,  without the temperature  but it never went away. New pain pops up like the springs of an old mattress and I just sit there in utter disbelief.’ No,’ I would say to myself,’ it can’t be. Isn’t there enough pain and discomfort?’ Sigh. Apparently not.

This pain I have makes me feel like a hundred years old; my 83-year-old mother is in so much better shape than I am. She does yoga once a week, she swims every day,  she is out of her apartment all day, going to the city, socializing with friends. She literally runs around without stopping to rest or sit down or G-d forbid, nap.  In the beginning, before she understood, (does she really understand now?) she used to tell me that I needed more exercise which is a common thing for people with Fibromyalgia to be told, over and over again. Read My Lips, NO CAN DO. I can barely make it around the block twice with my friends. They continue for a third loop and I beg off, mostly I’m fine with it, a few times I have had a twinge of embarrassment even though there is no reason for me to feel that way.

You get unsolicited advice from many people, people who don’t have a chronic pain illness. Go holistic, just get massages, change your diet. They might as well say dye your hair, or drink raw eggs or spin like a top and throw up as a cleanse. We KNOW the choices that are out there, really, we do. But generally we look to other pain sufferers for the answers not you. We know you mean well but frankly, it doesn’t help us.   Often, we don’t know WHAT to do and we are the ones that are suffering.  I’m there now. I’m not only caught up in the cotton-headed Fibromyalgia Fog (where am I, what did I come up here for?) that is my life but I feel unsure and anxious about my options.  I don’t know what to do or who to turn to or who to trust.  My energy is better from the medication I am currently on but now I have new pain in my legs. Great, I can stay up all day having more energy but with more pain. Do I have more pain from the side effects of the medication or from Fibromyalgia or wait, it could be from my auto-immune disease or connective tissue disorder. Listen up, world, I can’t speak for other people, but I am often unsure and clueless, trying to live in this world, day by day. I’m the first one to admit that I have no clue if what I am doing is right. How can we know that? We go to top doctors and hope for the best, sometimes it just isn’t enough. Do we settle? Do we stretch? Do we give up on medications? Is six weeks enough time to know that a medicine is working? Who knows? We don’t have the answers either, believe me it’s our fervent wish to understand and solve these medical mysteries.

I have stopped scheduling things in advance because I don’t know how I will feel that day at that time. My good friends understand, they will say “let’s talk the morning of” and I really appreciate it. My friend Sarah will just say “let’s see how you feel” and her concern (and no advice) is for my health and I know she just wants me to feel good and be happy; I also know she worries about me. I appreciate everyone’s concern, truly, I just sometimes don’t know what to say. I wish I was healthier too and in less pain,  I wish I didn’t have new symptoms from time to time but I do. Please understand that I like it a whole lot less than you. I know you feel bad for me but be careful of your words, saying “just when I thought you had every symptom in the book, you get another one,” is really not helpful. I know what I am going through you don’t need to tell me. Just be there for me, listen, offer me gentle hugs and a shoulder to cry on, be supportive. Take it from me, that’s plenty and more than enough.

Who Am I?

Who am I?

Image by stevec77 via Flickr

Am I more than the sum of my symptoms or less?  It started with menopause, the entire disintegration of my body. All of a sudden my thyroid became underactive and I thought I had achieved a state of false bliss. Just add Synthroid and  I will be able to eat AND lose weight at the same time” Well, as it turned out, not exactly. The image of every foodie fat girl eating AND shedding pounds like my hairy mutt sheds her fur was not accurate, I was disappointed. I was  in pain all the time, my favorite phrase: “I feel like I have the flu but without the fever.”  I ended up not just having an underactive thyroid but I had Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis, an auto immune disease of the thyroid, basically my own cells were attacking me. My internist nodded her head and said “there’s really nothing more I can do” and as I lay there sobbing, undressed in the exam room, she clicked on her brown high-heeled shoes turned swiftly and marched out of the room.

One doctor led to another and another all with differing points of view. The second Rheumatologist  diagnosed me with Fibromyalgia but still, my aches and pains continued.

The third hot-shot doctor specialized in RA and Auto-Immune Diseases. “Fibromyalgia” he said, “that’s nothing but a lazy diagnosis.” We treat the auto-immune disease, straight and simple. Of course, not that simple. He started me on Methotrexate which helped but landed me in the hospital for my second bout of Eppiglottitis and possible lung damage. I develped a 24/7 cough, asthma and breathing difficulties, the pain from the Epiglottitis was excruciating. Several prescriptions and an inhaler later I came home.

They stopped the Methotrexate and he put me on Cellcept which worked well, with the exception of intense intestinal distress that forced me to stay in the house (and close to the bathroom for 8 entire weeks). I complained after four weeks and hot-shot ignored me and said “stay on it another four weeks” and like a fool I listened.

If I was rich I would go to the Mayo Clinic but having had no income in a year, that rules that out. One day at a time? How about one moment at a time? Today I stayed in bed, napping and trying to calm my internal self. Part of me wants to kick and scream and fight, the other part is too tired and weak to even imagine it. Along with the aforementioned symptoms I also have narrow-angled glaucoma which is very serious, interstitial cystitis, TMJ and a connective tissue disorder as well as a balance issue. Who have I become? When did all all these symptoms become me?

My latest blood tests come back next week and with it, I hope, will be some helpful information. I am tired of being tired, sick of being sick. I feel horrible when I fall and my two sweet children and darling husband come racing up the stairs to see what happened….again.

Help me, fix me, try me, define me.

A Warm Welcome For New Chronic Pain Members

Strelitzia reginae, also known as Bird of Para...

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Dear New Chronic Pain Member,

I won’t say “Congratulations” for being in this particular club, a club that we all wish we were not in. Life works in very strange ways. There are some things we can’t possibly understand and there are some things we just have to accept; chronic pain/illness falls into that category. Whatever you have gone through there’s a pretty good chance we’ve  all been there and back. At least, you have found the most supportive bunch of people I’ve ever known. Even though what we have in common isn’t exactly our love for food (well, that too) it’s nice to surround yourselves with people who truly understand. Trust me, it helps.

Yesterday I dragged my aching bones and stiff joints up the four stairs for a consultation with a different Rheumatologist/Fibromyalgia doctor, even four steps felt like a lot and the rail  on the wall  called my name; I let it. Unlike my old doctor this new human being seemed attentive and concerned, he didn’t smirk once, didn’t put me down at all. He even talked to me (and not to my husband which used to happen all of the time.) Most of all, this guy  seemed to care. He interrupted my exam to talk to a suffering patient and while I don’t think that’s good form, listening to his soothing voice and gentility made it alright with me. It made me feel that I could call him for questions or concerns, not just send him e-mails like the old dude.

For a patient with a chronic illness or multiple chronic illnesses, a good rapport with a doctor is imperative. Go to a doctor that will give you the gift of hope. I’ve been around the block a few times here, actually 4 years worth so please listen so if I can shield you from the mistakes I have made, please let me.

This is my story, while going through menopause at age 50, my body basically fell apart. I developed an underactive thyroid, aches and pains, high cholesterol and a kangaroo stomach pouch, as I’ve said before “without a joey.” After many mistrials with many doctors, four years later I am here.  My old rhuematologist used to growl and say “Fibromyalgia is a lazy diagnosis.” What was that supposed to mean? Did that mean I didn’t have it because I certainly felt like I did. Those of us who have chronic pain know it; we feel it, eat it, and breathe it. We live with it day by day, aching night by night. There is no question in our minds but a big question mark still for some doctors, the wrong doctors. If your Doctor does not nod his/her head appreciatively or with empathy, do me a favor, walk out.

Fibromyalgia get’s a bad reputation and while it cannot be cured hopefully it can be helped. I had at least 14 out of the 17 pressure points and I was still on a lot of medication. I like that this Dr. took me off things that he thought I didn’t need. NOTE to fellow sufferers: If you have Fibromyalgia or any chronic pain illness and high cholesterol like me, ask your Doctor about side effects from certain drugs. Four years into this I just learned (from my mother)  Zocor or generic Simvastatin causes muscle aches and fatigue. Ask your own physician or call my mom if you want.

I also have an auto-immune illness of my thyroid, called Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis. What this means is basically my thyroid cells attack each other and this illness too brings pain and fatigue as well. Also, something called connective tissue disorder as well as others:  TMJ, IBS, Interstial Cystitis, bouts of anxiety etc.

I have no illusions that I will be “cured.” There is NO cure for my illnesses.  I am thankful I have friends who understand how I feel. Fellow sufferers who know what it means when I have a flare up  when the humidity is high and I am like a limp, achey, dishrag, basically hung out to dry. I’ve found that people without the disease don’t know how to handle “us.”  “Get more exercise” says my mother. “Go to a nutritionist”says my sister.  They mean well, they just don’t get it and how could they? We live in a different world.

The image of myself that I used to have was of a helpless kitty, crying and lost. Now, it is a beautiful, graceful flower,  purple and orange and called a Bird of Paradise. It looks like a bird‘s open beak, colorful, strong with its head, firmly, bravely, looking up. I pray it lasts.

Soggy Cereal, Wilted Lettuce, Elizabeth Hasselback and Me

I am too tired to think, speak, eat. Too weary to walk, talk, move. My body is aching and sore from being in the car yesterday for more than 4 hours total. In the car, out of the car, each movement is painful, uncomfortable and is such an unbelievable effort. It was visiting day at camp and we were NOT going to miss out on seeing our kids, who are  really not kids anymore, they are 16 and almost 18. They will, to us, always be our kids, our grown-up babies.

The Imuran medication which I take for the aches and pains of an auto-immune disease, Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis, an Inflammatory Disease, Fibromyalgia and possibly Arthritis, has not done a darn thing; at least not yet even though I have been on it for six weeks. I know, I know, I will give it 2 more weeks, just in case.  I’m tired of being a patient, even more so, a patient, patient. I want to stop all the wretched stiffness now; my body is wearing me down and my mood is plummeting. I don’t even think a good dinner would cheer me up and that speaks volumes,  for anyone who knows me. Food is Life, Life is Food. Too tired to even eat? Something is very, very, wrong.

I am part of a club that I don’t want to belong to.  Here I am amongst the champion women of chronic pain, chronic tiredness, chronic everything survivors club. These other women/friends have such better attitudes than me. Tonight my attitude is pure, personal, chronic misery. I feel dreadfully, chronically old. I am 53, I still feel 5 in my mind and over 85 in my body. I think young, I act young and child-like (ok, childish too sometimes) but I move like a very ill old person whose limbs  and joints hurt. Everything hurts me. I know it’s not the end of the world and there are far worse things, but I’ve been going through this for the last three and a half years. It gets better with one medicine and then I have to stop the medicine because of evil side effects. This is medicine number 3 and I don’t see myself going for a 4th. I’m so done.

I am even (gulp) considering a gluten -free diet when I return from vacation (a free cruise, I can’t start now!!)  and when school starts. I’m thinking it over and as much as a foodie as I am my health is more important than the taste of food. I hope. Did I just say that? Seriously?  I wish. I truly believe that because being on a gluten-free diet AND not feeling well will definitely put me over the edge. That, as Oprah says,” I know for sure.” I know there are gluten-free cookbooks out there but honestly, I will not spend my money on Elizabeth Hasselback’s cookbook, no offense. I will probably buy the “other” gluten-free cook book just because I find Elizabeth annoying. I am not saying she is a bad person but she is definitely annoying (not to mention way too conservative).  And so I sit, and wait and creak. Any comments or suggestions from you, my friends, about gluten-free diets would be greatly appreciated especially if you can talk me into being enthusiastic about it!

The Headache That Slammed My World

I sit in my bedroom, lights dimmed, having just swallowed two Bufferin. I have an aching head and while once the cicadas outside brought me a lively colorful concert, they now are taunting me with their continuous and annoying chirping. I have read many of the blogs on chronic pain, I have also written about chronic pain but I feel I am not worthy of that group, not really. Their pain is so much worse than mine, I think. I have an auto-immune disease (Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis) and some say Fibromyalgia too. I have inflamed joints that are stiff and betray me, my right hand seems to be curled all the time, even in sleep. It is painful to unfurl them, one at a time, like the hand of a grotesque witch, and me.

I am slower and stiffer than I used to be. Getting in and out of cars, (beds, chairs, everything) fills me with pain and stiffness; I feel old and weary. I can live with that, many of my friends on-line suffer so much more.  What I AM missing is energy. Everything in my body hurts, or my infamous line to describe to doctors and friends “it’s like having the flu without the fever.”

I see a rheumatologist and am now on my third medication for my auto-immune disease. The first one worked well but ended up giving me a non-stop cough and I was hospitalized for epiglottitis; (think raw throat pain times a million) steak knife through open wounds, the worst pain I have ever had.  The second medicine, worked great for my energy but the side effects were so bad, (intestinal in nature) that I could not leave my house for 8 weeks.

Now, I am on the third (and last) medicine, I don’t want to try another one. This is the last chance before I just let my body become chemical free and deal with what I have been dealt with. I don’t have the money for holistic remedies, massage, etc. I barely have enough money to cover doctor appointments at fifty dollars a pop. The rheumatologist doesn’t accept any insurance so I have no choice but to pay him the big, HUGE bucks; I don’t go often. I was all set to go to a holistic place that would try to treat my condition(s) naturally until I found out that the cost was seven thousand dollars. Again, seven thousand dollars and this did not include follow-up visits or medicine.

My eyes are lowered, the sound of the cicada’s have lessened.   The pounding in my head is less severe, but now there are dogs barking loudly across the stream. I thought the cicadas were bad, they were an opera compared to these angry, fighting, nasty dogs. Time passes, I play low soothing music, I drink water and I don’t know if the medicine helped or if the darkness provides a cover, a safety net for all. Hopefully soon, I will sleep.

Paging *All Doctors: Check Your EGO At The Door

Dear Doctors,

Before you enter a patient’s  exam room, where they have probably been waiting at least twenty minutes, stop, pause, and check your ego at the door. This should be standard procedure; but unfortunately it isn’t. There should be a confirmation box needing  a signature for “Check Ego?, next to the automatic Purell dispenser, to assure quality control.  *While the title is catchy I do know I cannot accuse all doctors of doing this but the ones I DO know (and you know who you are) are definitely in need of lessons in humility, humanity and sensitivity training. The bad part about it? Certain doctors just do not care. Full disclosure.

Two days ago I had an experience with my pompous, grandiose, full of himself, doctor who shall remain nameless.   Many of you have heard about this person before. He is an excellent doctor, scratch that, he is an excellent DIAGNOSTICIAN.  He charges exorbitant prices and he does NOT take insurance (insurance, what is that? what is it for?  Me take insurance? Ha Ha! ) but he is very smart, I’ll give him that. Is that really enough? Do we have to pick expertise in lieu of great beside manner, can’t there be a combination? That said, he is so out of touch with the “real world” that it is insulting, aggravating and utterly demeaning. Unfortunately for me the deck is stacked; I need him, he does not need me; and he knows it.

I had been to a local doctor (one who takes  insurance) and the doctor I saw asked me to have Ego- Dr.  fax her some information.  A reasonable request, I thought.  I thought wrong. When I e-mailed him, he flipped out and as an old friend used to say ” had a serious nutty.” I’m talking a crazy outburst in print.  I’m serious, he was FURIOUS. “He should fax her?? ABSOLUTELY NOT.  “If she wants to call him he would try to talk to her but he will not answer specific questions.” The questions she asked, were so innocuous, I have no idea why he made such a fuss. Perhaps he realized that he was dabbling too extensively in my case, acting as Head Dr. of Everything.  He also mentioned that “if I chose to see a doctor in MY INSURANCE PLAN, so be it. His implication was clear, without saying it, he made it known that he felt “You get what you pay for.”

Unfortunately, I need to see this doctor a few times a year for my auto-immune disease/thyroid illness.  I am considering looking for a second opinion and more importantly, some sensitivity. This man is well-known in his field,  however, he is not well-known for his “bedside manner.”  When these magazines come out with their rankings of” BEST DOCTORS” who is filling them out? Other doctors?  Which leads me to think that it might be a little biased.  Maybe they should ask patients and ex-patients their opinion to get a clearer view.  A great idea: ex-patients, that would be ideal “why did you leave the practice of Dr. So and So?. Please explain. Now that is a survey I would read with relish.

Apparently the phrase “First do no harm” was meant merely in a physical way. Some doctors should think about their actions and take responsibility for them. A person is not just a symptom, we are multi-faceted people who deserve YOUR respect as well. A doctor who treated the whole person? That to me, would certainly deserve the title of BEST.

OH, A Feel-Good Happy Day!!!

It’s been a long, long time since I have felt this good. It’s been many long months in fact (if not years), but today I had an absolutely wonderful day. Maybe it’s because of karma, what goes around comes around, something I’ve always believed in but I tend to need reminding. I woke up early, looked at the bright yellow sun on the cloudless brilliant blue sky and knew where I had to go. It was the right day to go to the cemetery, to visit my dad, who passed away 9 years ago. I always go, each year, around Father’s Day out of love and respect but I don’t usually plan when I go; I go when I feel I should. Today was that day.

I bought a plant with tiny red flowers, like heart-shaped kisses, in a pot, wrapped in shiny green aluminum foil and brought it with me to the cemetery. I talked to my dad, out loud, I cried, I asked questions and I implored, all the while cleaning the headstone from old dirty grass and respositioning and cleaning the stones that lay faithfully on his headstone. ” I need your help, Dad, I’ve been so sick (and also, just remember Dan hasn’t worked since September.) Honestly, I just want to feel better and I know you would want that too. Mom’s worried about me too, please help me, please help her.” I asked directly for his help and for a day, today, he showered me with love. Asked and answered, with a great big smile.

Right after the cemetery I drove to my mom’s apartment, a minute away, unannounced and knocked on her door. We ended up spending much of the day together and I felt so pampered. It’s nice, once in a while to be a daughter, to feel like a daughter and not just a mother. My mom took me out to lunch at The Club where I had a beet, mango, fennel salad with goat cheese and pistachios. Heavenly. My mom had a grilled chicken salad sandwich that came on a croissant but I nixed the croissant since she is diabetic and I watch out for her too. We laughed a lot and marveled at the serenity and the gift of the weather, warm, sunny, with a breeze and not too hot; a perfect day.

We went to her condo pool and I sat in the sun, in my mother’s cute black and white bathing suit that she gave me as a present and I felt so pampered, so loved, so taken care of.  Thank you. I swam in the pool, I sat and talked to the lounging ladies and when I was ready, I left to go home.

I left to go home to my daughter. My daughter and I had date night where we went to her favorite restaurant, just the two of us. We drank sugary sweet strawberry smoothies and ate brick oven pizza, fresh and hot straight out of the oven. The pizza had chunky tomato pieces and thick mozzarella slices and  fresh basil on every slice. Now I am home, reliving the day with happiness, with gratitude.

I know deep down inside I am hoping that tomorrow will be the same and that I will feel really good again and energetic. I would be lying if I didn’t hope for that. But, if I don’t feel that way, at least I will  know it is possible. That’s more than I had months ago, that’s more than I had even yesterday and I appreciate it, I truly do.

Dedicated to my mom, who wants me to be happy and healthy as much, or even more, than I do.

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The Lost Souls

I can’t stand the pain anymore;  I just can’t take it another second. I am having a hard time accepting that this is my life. I am not coping well today; I am not coping at all. Another day of stomach pain and too much sleep, no energy and endless trips to the bathroom, not leaving my home. Is it my long-lost enemy IBS revisiting me? Is it the side effect of the Cellcept that I am taking for my auto-immune disease, Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis? I don’t know, I really don’t know. I could easily start crying now, I just don’t know if I could stop.

I don’t know what to do and I hate that feeling, I feel powerless. I have no energy to fight or to make any medical decisions, minute or radical. I don’t have the strength or state of mind to start going to doctors anymore, again. What if I do nothing? Stop the medications and live like that? I’m scared. The medicine is supposed to be making me feel better and in some ways it does, except for the horrible side effects. Unless it’s a virus….See? There’s no way of knowing and I feel helpless, truly helpless.

People try to be nice, “Hang in there!!!” they write or say with heartfelt warmth. No. I can’t. I just can’t do it anymore. I’ve been pushed beyond my limit and I don’t know if there is a way to pull me back on board without me kicking my legs, punching fists in the air. I refrain myself from starting to scream obscenities like an absolute crazy person. I take an orange pill for anxiety, I drink a cup of ginger tea from a yellow ceramic mug. I droop.

It is clear I can’t continue to live my life this way. I’ve seen more doctors than I would like to see in a lifetime. Friends and relatives  yell out well-meaning ideas: homeopathy, acupuncture, massage?  There’s a doctor in Massachusetts, in Israel, two towns away? Try gluten-free, try vitamins, go to Dr. Weill, to this woman we’ve heard about in Brazil, how about the Mayo clinic for a minimum of $50,000 dollars and no guarantee?

I don’t want to talk about this, I don’t even want to write about it anymore except for the other “friends” who have painful and annoying chronic illnesses like me. They understand, they are the only ones who understand what it is like to live hour by hour. It’s not life-threatening, true, so we don’t get much sympathy but we have no lives to speak of.  What about us? The lost souls that linger in our beds, hoping for a surge of energy, a sign of life?  We are not part of the statistics because really, who knows about us? Who cares?   We are not in hospitals or reporting ourselves to the CDC.  We are not checking in to one specialty hospital because they don’t exist. We have symptoms all over the map, we are not just one disease. There are many, many of us who are unhappy, who are fighting each and every day ; we feel sorry for each other, because only we can understand the struggle, the fight, the emotional and physical pain that live with us just about every, single day.

If you are reading this anywhere other than hibernationnow.wordpress.com please be aware this posting was copied without permission.  Please visit my blog at hibernationnow.wordpress.com to see this, and my other blog postings.