*A Blob In A Bed

As lightning strikes and cackles, silver pain against a mournful deep black sky, rockets flare rapidly from my brain to my chin.  Immediately, I recognize and rationalize the signs; I sigh wearily breathe slowly and finally admit that TMJ has come back to stay for the next few days or  a week. At least I love my two options for dinner, peanut butter and jelly or an American cheese sandwich and tomato soup:

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I had a tiny, mild spasm when we had dinner but I was eating the mushiest of foods. A veggie burger that I had to scoop up with a spoon and I didn’t eat the top half of the bun. After that, a small portion of ice cream that I put in the microwave, I was sure I had paid the price for the pain already. Yeah, right. As if fairness counts in this world. I shake my head from side to side.

 

I didn’t “say AHHH” as if I was giving in to a strep test, my mouth was as wide as it could go comfortably (yes, dentists/doctors from all over say I have a child size mouth and face and hands and ring size.) I do remember the tip-toe beginning signs of TMJ and paid heed to them, with further occurrences, I forgot about it and went to sleep and slept well. When I woke up (or did it wake me up?) the first flash of agonizing pain ripped through my brain to my ear and down past my teeth into my wobbly neck.

There is no rhyme or reason for when this happens so I just resign myself to it happening every once in a while and search (I know, I know) for the mouth guard that I should have worn all along. My bad.

 

 

I can’t feel too sorry for myself because I’m the one to blame. I remember yesterday, even before the first pang, opening up the case and finding it empty. I did find it later on, of course, I’ll need to search for it again ( Fibromyalgia Fog) since I forgot where it I found it. I don’t lose things, I just misplace them ( repeatedly.) I look outside at the cold, crystallized window and I find a little comfort in the fact that I can nurse myself back to health today without (a lot of ) help from anyone. (PS I found it and have been wearing it.)

 

I slip back into bed with my five layers of blankets and heating pad, it is the second day and I am still in so much pain that I can’t even go down a flight of stairs to make my cherished mug of coffee. I hate asking for help but this morning I knock on my daughter’s door and ask her to help me. In a second, she goes downstairs to make me coffee and warms my heart. I am so grateful for her.

The coffee barely cheers me up which is unusual. I try to gulp it down quickly but the pain interrupts me. I’m doomed. I’m not allowed to use most pain medication because of my kidneys so I reach for one Tylenol, two.  I automatically click the heating pad that lives beside me on the beige carpet. Please help me soon….

 

I don’t know how other people can get motivated to get dressed and race out of the door when it is below freezing outside. I truly wonder. I don’t believe I was like this when I was young, but then again, I didn’t have Fibromyalgia or Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis.  Maybe I did have it all along but never knew?

 

My mother calls and she hears “the slight off pitch” of my voice.I can never fool her, my mother and my son are the only ones I can’t fool. She zeros in for the kill. “What’s the matter?” she inquires directly bypassing all courtesy. I answer truthfully yet less urgently “I just have a little TMJ thing going on, that’s all.” She sighs, she feels helpless, I totally understand. My 22-year-old son had the flu last week and I certainly felt the same way, “what can I do, do you want something to eat, tomato soup with mashed up crackers? no? NO?!)

Mothers love to mother and when we can’t or when our kids grow up, at first we don’t know what to do. Mothering is our job, one we always will love. Without it, we just feel a little lost. Many people, including myself, ask themselves the question “Who am I now” when our youngest child is in college.

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I know the feeling. After my daughter’s two wisdom teeth were extracted during a summer holiday and the medication wore off, she got up and gently woke me up at 3 AM. She scowled and said through muddled cotton mouth “it hurts.” For me, as bad as I felt for her, I felt happy I could help her, I could mother her and make her feel better. I didn’t want her to have pain, I wanted to make any type of pain go away.

My daughter and son have left to go out, my husband will be home shortly. I will go down and make my own soft American cheese sandwich and drink some Yoo Hoo, I don’t want to bother my husband who has worked all day. I understand pain, I’ve lived with so many different forms (too numerous to list), I don’t need people near me, I have all of you.

Thanks, Facebook Friends for always being there for me.

View image | gettyimages.com

*DON’T WORRY ABOUT ME, PLEASE.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Santa, Would You Consider This Idea?

Dear Santa,

I haven’t moved from my bed in three days and I don’t feel bad about it either. Sure, I go upstairs and downstairs but I haven’t even exposed my bare shivering cold body to the shower, I have to plan for that. My goal is to shower tonight but more likely it will be tomorrow sometime in the morning after a good night’s sleep.

#179592992 / gettyimages.com

It is this horrific change in temperature and while I could blame it all on Fibromyalgia and many of my physical disabilities I am not going to do that. For me, it sounds like I’m staging a revolution of sorts, a sit in from the sixties (“I told you, year after year, how much I HATE the cold weather” ) which is entirely childish but so definitely true.

I don’t want to leave my house (okay bed and blankets) to go outside where the wind blows right through me and I can’t find a glove/mitten made warm enough to keep my fingers toasty. Does such a thing really exist? I’m doubtful. If so, can you please send me a pair or two?

#480806157 / gettyimages.com

Honestly, how anyone except teenagers would want those texting gloves is totally beyond me. I just don’t get this texting craziness and I never will. I do know I stink at technology which my children make fun of me endlessly. The trouble is I don’t care about it, not the phone or the computer, they have no real value to me. They are “things,” just like my car. They serve a purpose but I wouldn’t go crazy if there was a scratch or two on it. Please. My kids were practically born with these gadgets, I was not and I have no interest in them.

I want a phone to reach a loved one or AAA if my car breaks down, a computer to write my blogs and a camera for photos on my phone. That’s about it. I don’t use 99 percent of the phone’s functions to begin with and maybe, maybe, I know half of one percent of what the stupid phone can do, if that.

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I am waiting for the first frost and snowfall, I know it is coming any day now. The bad weather, ice storms, sleet, leave me home bound (not that I am complaining) but I’m terrified of falling on the ice and breaking bones. Been there, done that, many times. Look, some people are penguins and love sashaying and skiing through the snow and others, like me, prefer warmer climates. There is nothing wrong with that, except when you are a sun worshiper, living close to the North Pole. I truly love you Santa

#sb10069274b-004 / gettyimages.com

but I don’t exactly want to be your neighbor. Have your ever considered two locations?

Is there an island for people who prefer warmer climates? Send me there, to the South Pole Annex. Why must everything take place in the North Pole?  I will take care of all the boys and girls, elves, helpers, reindeer who fail the Winter test  and I will love them, take care of them and appreciate them. You can count on me, Santa, you know I love animals, misfits and all.  Please consider this as my Christmas wish. To be somewhere warmer, yet close to you, as always, in my heart.

#72919094 / gettyimages.com

Thanks.

Love,

Santa 2 To Be?

Somewhere Birds Are Singing

English: Red-headed Woodpecker (Melanerpes erythrocephalus). Canada Rondeau Provincial Park, Ontario, Canada. Image collected at the feeders behind the Visitor Centre. Français : Pic à tête rouge. Parc provincial Rondeau, Ontario, Canada. Cliché pris aux mangeoires situées derrière le centre d’accueuil des visiteurs. 日本語: ズアカキツツキ (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I don’t see leaves on the branches through my windows anymore. I miss the lush colors of red, orange and yellow that greeted me in the daytime, gleaming from the sun. As Winter approaches and I tend to recede indoors I know that some of my winter friends are rejoicing at the prospect of snow in the near future. Honestly, I cannot relate to that one bit. I hate being cold and the fact that “you can always put on more layers” does nothing for me.  When I am cold, it goes right through my body to my bones probably because I have Fibromyalgia. Cold not only hurts, it stabs repeatedly.

I drink a mug of tea, with milk and a spoonful of glistening, amber honey.  It’s nice as long as the tea lasts which is probably five or six minutes. My stomach is warm and I relish the flavor but after, nothing of the warmth or the taste remains. Cold air seeps through our brand new windows.

This is the worst time of year for me, the end of Autumn, when we turn the clocks back an hour. Sure, it’s nice for that one day to get that “extra” hour of sleep ( a concept that I will never understand ) but one we pay for dearly. Winter lasts much too long for me.

I admire the skiers, snow boarders, ice skaters, I think if I had a hobby outside in the freezing temperatures it would make me happier. The only thing I enjoy in the winter at a ski lodge is drinking hot chocolate with marshmallows from a ceramic mug. I was never athletic and having “loose” bones all I need to do is trip,  anywhere, and an ankle or wrist breaks and is in a cast for weeks, I’ve been in that black boot way too many times.

The only thing I like about this season is watching and listening to the birds and their songs. I fill the bird feeders regularly, that is my outdoor hobby. I sit inside and watch them play and fly and eat. I listen to the birds’ sweet songs, watch the cardinal couples flying back and forth through the trees to feed each other and to sing happily. I love that they come in couples. They bring me the only piece of joy in the long winter months. At least I have that.

Plinky Prompt: Seasons Changing

Autumn Colours (Fall Colors) – Red Tree (Photo credit: dbrooker1)

• 

  Fall Colors (Photo credit: msn678)

  

• For many of us the seasons are changing, bouncing unpredictably between cold and warm. Are you glad to be moving into a new season, or wishing for one more week of the old? See all answers

• Edit answer |
• October 27, 2013 by hibernationnow

• Mid-season replacement

• Are you kidding me? One more week of the old? Try NEVER MOVING OUT OF THE OLD, but I will take one more week if that’s all I can get. I hate the cold winters, the chill goes through my bones and is trapped there.
  I have always hated the cold weather but having a chronic illness, Fibromyalgia, makes my bones stiffen and hurt, trapped in place.
  In my fantasy, I am wearing just a long-sleeved pink cotton shirt, jeans and sneakers. No jackets, no scarves, no mittens or boots. The leaves are full and multicolored and glowing in the afternoon sun. I feel comfortably warm, my head turned to the sun, I’m smiling.

• photo credit (wikipedia) to above mentioned photographers
• msn678 and dbbrooker1)

Someone Should Kill Punxsutawney Phil (Oh Relax, Not Literally)

groundhog (Photo credit: Greencolander)

AN OPEN LETTER TO MR. PUNXSUTAWNEY PHIL

Dear P. Phil,

What the hell were you thinking? This has been the nastiest winter not to mention the longest winter that we have had in years. What happened to the early Spring you promised us? Nothing, that’s what. It’s freaking freezing and we are in the third week of March with no tell-tale signs of budding flowers and warm temperatures. Why don’t we just get rid of this stupid tradition? I’ve never believed in it anyway but this year, I admit, I was longing for some good news so I thought four more weeks isn’t bad at all, I can handle that.

For me, a person who hates the winter in the first place, prolonging snow and freezing temperatures makes me feel that much worse. Hey Phil, did anyone teach you about sticking to your word? I am not, in any way, amused. In fact, I’m angry.I happen to know that I am not alone in my anger. I know many, many people who feel the same way. Another snowstorm in the forecast?  WHY NOT, I’ve stopped counting, we have all stopped counting because who can keep track?

The week my husband went skiing was one of the scariest times I have been through in a long time. Again, (what a surprise) the forecast was for a huge storm calling for a foot of snow and 60 mph winds, certainly enough to tear the power lines down to the ground like angry whips. It was terrifying. It was just the dog and me and our dog knew about as much as I did on how to figure out the nine page document that my husband left me to TRY and explain the mini generator. The man had given me graphs and diagrams, even flow charts and arrows. That rather long dissertation made me as crazy as the storm itself. Did he not remember who he has married for 24 and a half years?

I climbed the stairs, flashlight in my pocket, candles strategically placed around the house with matches nearby and climbed into my bed piled high with blankets. I felt like Laura in “Little House On The Prairie” except I was missing Ma and Pa to tucking me in and telling me everything would be alright. I really missed them. I went to bed early because what else was there to do? I prayed. In the morning I woke up to 12 inches of snow but we still had electricity. I was SO happy.

Punxsutawney Phil, as many of us now in mid-life are looking to start different careers,  may I suggest you do the same? I’m sure you can do some different things, you should look into as many options and career choices as possible because I think, as we all agree, you stink at this one.

it’s too cold out, i’m lazy as shit

Just another Tequila Sunset… (Photo credit: law_keven)

ramblings from a woman in bed 2:

i could blame my four going on five days of staying in my bed on m chronic illnesses,  fibromyalgia: because my muscles and bones or as we call them bone-ces do hurt and I am unsteady on my feet and off balance. I could say my auto-immune disease, hashimotos-thyroiditis is making me feel weak and that my immune system is whacked, how I still don’t know. but basically in this random writing, i’d be lying and that’s one thing I try not to do. cause I sure hate it when others do it to me.

it’s cold as a bitch out there, the winds are past blowing, they are swaying the barren trees and the unfortunate people who are out there. i’ve been in bed for the last 4 days, the thought of going outside seems unreasonable and impossible, it would hurt too much. if i had to go out and it was an emergency i know i could do it but with my kids home and hanging out, there is no need. hubby took this week off and he does not mind cold weather like i do, it’s been this way for over 25 years. i’ve always hated the cold weather but especially since i got sick with these chronic illnesses. the cold tenses up my already stiffened muscles and makes me suffer with even more pain. why do that if there is no benefit? once it is reasonably cold out, i will go. i’m not boycotting it, i’m just rebelling. let’s be reasonable.i need warmth, sun, beach, water; i’m keeping my eye on the prize.

i’ve talked to friends who have the same illnesses and they too are nestled in their soft pajamas, staying in bed and drinking tea in a mug with milk and sugar or strong coffee, or sipping water from a big, clear bottle. the only thing i want to eat is soup and i remember i have a large container of home-made pea soup with ham and lots of carrots (for sweetness) waiting for me in the freezer. you can hear the wind howling, it thrashes by my windows with fury, the new windows, of course which do nothing but cost a lot of money that we do not have.

my life would be easier if i loved cold weather but my husband and i have been fighting ok discussing this for years now. so far he has won. but when both children graduate college, it’s my turn. i want to see the bright yellow of the morning sun, to see the red velvet sunset on the beach and clap at the beauty. i want nature and water in my life and not once every five years but daily, at least for a time. i would compromise, i’d be a snowbird but this i will not do much longer. this makes me unhappy, it’s going to be my turn next. I need more nature in my life, more sunshine. the ice pellets are now coming down quickly stick to every surface; black ice hides sneakily where you think you are safe. the cold, nasty, biting wind just slaps my soul.

Lazy Sunday Afternoon

gratitude (Photo credit: nathalie booth)

I’m still in my blue fleece pajama bottoms with cherries happily bursting on them and a 20-year-old mauve Cape Cod sweatshirt and I have no interest in getting dressed. This is my outfit today, I see no reason to change. It’s freezing outside, and if my tensed up bones need a break (no, not literally) I will give it to them. Cold weather is not good for people with chronic pain or Fibromyalgia. Trust me. I know. It’s too early to long for Spring.

The wind is howling outside, seeping in to our little house’s walls, windows. I am under a mountain of blankets with my dog. She could lie beside me or at the other end of the bed, but no, she picks the place over my feet to settle down. My dog, my mutt, was a wild puppy, I struggled bitterly with her biting and pulling and ransacking the house. How my friends encouraged me to “hang in there, she’s just a puppy.” At 8 months, she is still a puppy but a better one and most certainly a larger one. She no longer bites into my hand as if it was a cheeseburger. I’m not as steady on my feet as other people, because of balance issues, so I hope she behaves.

Our children have left for their respective colleges, the house is comfortingly quiet, and we are happy,  probably because I know the kids will be back in three weeks and because this happened to be a lovely Thanksgiving weekend. No fighting, NO DRAMA and a good time all around. My daughter didn’t even object when we told her she needed to see a doctor, she came home from her appointment with a package of antibiotics and a diagnosis of bronchitis. No, you cannot drink while you are on antibiotics. As my kids used to say “Nuff said.”

There are more leftovers to eat tonight, I’m not even sick of them yet. It’s hard to get sick of turkey, cranberry sauce, my Danny’s home-made, unbelievable stuffing and Polish rye bread “from the Homestead” in Kew Gardens, Queens where we both grew up. There is nothing like that bread, it brings back all sorts of childhood memories: standing in line, getting sandwiches made, deciding between the shrimp salad, or chicken salad, imported cheeses, home-baked desserts: cherry, apple and cheese strudel, chocolate layer cakes, and the traditional jelly doughnuts for New Year’s Eve.

Like last year, we won’t be exchanging gifts this Christmas. Everything is so expensive and times are hard. My husband has a job but I can’t work and I live in silent fear of him losing his job since the economy is so bad. If that happens, we will deal with it then. My present this year will be the memories of this past weekend, the family getting together at our house for Thanksgiving. The memories of the pretty amber lit candles that lined the middle of our long tables, my dog, lying on the green couch, the four cousins whispering together, the three grandparents still with us, childhood friends that I grew up with here, and the giant dessert spread we had, enough for 40 people not 14. We had a warm place to sit, food on the table, we were all grateful to be here, we escaped the worst from Sandy; we were very, very lucky. For this, and everything else, we gave and continue to give our thanks.

Just a Little Harmless Venting

Winter, Bloody Winter

It’s freezing, my hands hurt, they are red and raw. Soothing hand lotion just disappears into my aching pores but I can’t feel any difference or relief. Each finger is an individual icicle, stuffed into useless lined gloves. I can’t feel my toes they seem to have become webbed together because of this unnatural cold spell. I have four layers of clothing on underneath an old brown, tired winter jacket. I would actually prefer an old-fashioned snowstorm to these chilling, painful, low temperatures and hollering winds. With snow, trees, bushes and houses take on a life of their own. Everything looks innocent and bright. Pointy roofs are layered with glistening snow. Dogs happily romp in the snow, they run like deer performing ballet. It’s beautiful to watch; there is no beauty now. I can almost hear the roar of an impromptu snowball fight and the sound of children laughing. When I first go outside the wind hits my face like an unexpected, violent slap. The days are short, gray and abysmal. I shiver constantly; I hate feeling cold; my aging body agrees. Having Fibromyalgia makes the cold even worse. It’s colder than cold, my joints are stiff and I ache everywhere. Every move is accompanied by extra pain; life feels dreary. My body misses much-needed heat and my soul is deprived of sunshine.