Fibro UnFriendly

English: A zombie

Image via Wikipedia

If Fibromyalgia was a mood and not a chronic illness, it would be grumpy, mean, hateful and cranky. It would be the scariest monster that rages everywhere, over my bed, not even bothering to hide but willfully taunting me in the open. Once constant factor is the weather and its changes, enemies.  I want to set up all the old green plastic soldiers that my son used to play with constantly and place them on the Batmobile and fire truck and police cars and surge through dividing lines. I want to storm the troops of Fibromyalgia pain and run them over completely. In my fantasy, all that would be left in their place would be peace and pain-free living.

I know, I’m living in a dream world but it is better than the one that I am living in now. At night, which used to be my savior, snugly asleep under the covers, has now become another battleground. Pain wakes me up, the newest pain is in my arms and elbows and I never feel well-rested. I try to ignore it at night but minutes later it wakes me up again. I imagine the enemy mocking me, sneering at me as if to say “you thought I was only going to appear once then go away for the rest of the night? HAHAHAHA” ‘That is what I was hoping for’ I try to mumble under my breath.”FOOL” they spit blood right back in my face.

Why do all these new pains seem to intensify after my visit to the Rheumatologist when the blood work is in? Liver function? A little high? Sediment rate? A little high?  Auto-immune disease? Yes, I have that too, an auto-immune disease of the thyroid, known as Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis. When is it too high and what do they do about it? A question that has never been answered so far. Should I take Tramadol, “you could give it a try.” I don’t want to give anything a try, I’m frustrated and tired and inflamed and I just want a definitive answer which I know logically I won’t get. The answer is “let’s recheck your blood in two weeks.”

I’m frustrated, even the small flight of stairs in our house seems insurmountable. My ten-year old dog can come up and down those stairs better than I can when I am in a Fibromyalgia Flare (if that’s what this is, we rarely know for sure.) I have to grab unto the shaky metal banister and pull myself up, hear myself groan out loud, the sounds coming from me are more animal-like than I would care to admit. I try not to emit these sounds when my children are home but sometimes I can’t help it. They know I have this illness, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want to protect them as much as I can.

I drove away their monsters when they were little, why can’t I drive away my own?

Just a Little Harmless Venting

coffee in the morning... it's freezing cold!

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.

Powered by Plinky