Fibro Life, Friday


Please, just let me sleep, don't find me...


I am too tired to keep my head up, I tried to make good on advice to get out more. As Fibro patients know, I’m paying the price. Minus two spoons. I owe two spoons from tomorrow, not that it really works that way, right fellow spoonies? We really can’t win either way.

I generally never complain about Fibromyalgia, Savella and Tramadol usually do the trick but then again, I haven’t pushed myself this hard in a long time. I really have to ask myself if it is worth it? When I am racing around town, doing errands, getting my hair cut, drinking a strong cup of coffee, going non-stop I am NOT able to handle it because apparently now, I am a wreck, a demolished car on the side of the road, Not one part left, it’s sitting up an embankment totally crushed.




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I have given the same advice to my friends “don’t do too much” but I didn’t listen to myself today because I was on a new mission to “live, to explore, to get out of the house.” Yep, I overdid it.

I might be so tired that I can’t even eat dinner. Nah. Who is kidding whom? I’m sure I will perk up after food, I smell chicken breasts on the grill, the salad is on the table already, I’m chopping tomatoes for bruschetta. But, really, all I want to do is to curl up in a ball and somehow loosen the muscles in the back of my neck and fall asleep. I don’t see that happening nor do I see myself cleaning my room and organizing it.

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Let me stay here, in the midst of my bed, covered with clothes and freshly washed laundry, next to my calendar and my phone and a pink and blue pen. I will push things aside in a corner, I won’t complain, not a sound will come out of my exhausted mouth except the sweet snoring sounds of an overtired, head-throbbing, weak patient.

Don’t tell anyone I am here, I am so broken I don’t want to be found. I just want to sleep. Shhh, please just let me.

* Two images should have appeared, if no images appeared, I will let zemanta support know again, feel free to join me. Thanks in advance. If they both appear, I will be delighted!

It’s Not Just Peanut Butter And Jelly Anymore (Food Cop)

I’m hungry, borderline starving. I know that’s a fairly regular experience for me but tonight I am ravenous AND I have to be careful ABOUT the texture of what I eat.

 

I’m having a flare-up of everything that could possibly hurt, especially now with my jaw, teeth, head and neck.

Having a vicious battle with TMJ  AND a cavity that needs to be filled, I thought I would be cautious and eat soft food. Since I was not feeling well, all day, light-headed, dizzy (reason still to be determined with the dreaded TILT test) my husband was kind enough to bring me a peanut butter and jelly (extra orange marmalade on the side to be mixed in) sandwich. For a side dish there was a tiny amount of mashed potatoes, leftovers from last night yummy restaurant. Oh yes, there was sour cream and butter in those “mashlers” as my dad used to say and as part of my family still says.

The amount of peanut butter and jelly is crucial to any perfect sandwich, bearing in mind everybody’s personal preference. For me, more jelly and less peanut butter is the way to go. My husband and our friend John in the neighborhood, put staggering amounts of peanut butter on their sandwiches (“There IS NO such thing as too much peanut butter in our house”) John said. My husband, agrees. He slathers on peanut butter and measures it in inches. I disagree. I’m a more jelly than peanut butter kind of girl.

I was having a bite of mashed potatoes, on the side, following a bite of my sandwich (the color of the jelly and the taste is carefully matched too) when I noticed a wonderful, soothing, comfort spreading taste in my mouth and stomach. After two or three bites of the sandwich and then the mashed potatoes I was sure that a combination sandwich would definitely ease my pain.

Wait for it, my friend, Maureen, because you KNOW it’s coming….

Hence, the peanut butter and jelly and mashed potato sandwich was born. Don’t prejudge, it is the ultimate in comfort food. The peanut butter and jelly or jam is cold or at room temperature and the hot mashed potatoes, sans gravy, are warm, buttery and rich.

It was love at first bite. I finished every creamy morsel and would have eaten more if I had more to eat. I have had in the past peanut butter and jelly with cheddar cheese and once I had a peanut butter and jelly combined with tuna fish sandwich but those are a little too much and way less comforting than my new, favorite combination.

Mashed Potatoes!!! (Photo credit: Manuel Alarcón)

It’s a win-win situation. How could it not be fabulous? The greatest in comfort food.

Sure, I make a mean chicken soup, or lentil soup, those are all   eaten mostly in the Winter. But this new combination?  Adding mashed potatoes as an ingredient? A genius idea of comfort in a bite. In every single bite.

 

My Fibromyalgia Vacation

Rhode Island Retreat 2983 (Photo credit: WebAdvantage.net)

I bet for a second you actually thought I got a vacation from Fibromyalgia and ALL my aches and pains. Oh, silly you, you know THAT’S not possible, that’s not even a thought that enters my sane mind anymore. Actually, it doesn’t even enter my insane mind. I’m stuck with this horrid disease, as I know so many of you are, and we are going nowhere, well, not fast. Fast is a past tense word. I don’t do anything quickly anymore, with the exception of napping and eating.

My husband and I went away for a couple of days, it was a short car ride that we broke down in two days. Yes, we stopped overnight so I wouldn’t have to sit in the car for four hours which, I thought, was extremely sweet and generous of my husband. After all, money is tight and in August we are sending two kids to college (state schools, thank goodness, but two in college at the same time.)

We arrived at our lovely Bed and Breakfast and it was the first time I noticed someone actively noticing me. The Inn Keeper was watching me, she stared at me, not unkindly, but with acknowledgment. I only had one computer bag in my hand and she said “let me take that for you, it’s easier for me.” This was not a woman who was much younger than me but when I saw her sprint up and down the stairs like a youthful kangaroo I realized how old and how sick I must look and seem. It was devastating to me and quite alarming.

I am used to my small circle of friends and family who are with me all the time and know about the chronic pain and illness. The stiffness in my bones, muscles, the nerve pain, the imbalance, the awkwardness of going up stairs (and these were deep and wide stairs.) My husband’s arm was always at the ready and I’m sure she noticed that too but I felt so conspicuous. I felt like I had a sign on my back that read: DAMAGED GOODS. Apparently, I did.

I have other tests coming up soon and if those are okay I know I will be thankful for just having Fibromyalgia and Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis (an auto-immune disease of the thyroid.)  I am not complaining about how I feel physically as much as the shock I felt when the inn-keeper looked at me, with equal parts of pity, kindness and sorrow. She was NOT trying to make me feel bad in any way, but bad is how I felt, I’m so used to feeling physically bad that I don’t know what physically good feels like anymore. Physically painful is my new normal. I felt emotional pain from a stranger for the very first time and that hurt.