*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:

View image | gettyimages.com

 

 

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.

View image | gettyimages.com

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.




#170512811 / gettyimages.com




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.

#485221893 / gettyimages.com

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!

Plinky Prompt: Baby Love

Young woman kissing baby in bassinet (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

• 6:00AM: the best hour of the day, or too close to your 3:00AM bedtime? See all answers

• • Edit answer |
  • November 11, 2013 by hibernationnow
  • Baby Love

  • NEITHER

  • 
    During my college years (which I can remember vaguely but with fondness) I always needed SOME sleep. I never was one of those “all-nighter” students, I needed at least four hours of sleep. My main problem and yes, it has carried on still today is that I hate the taste of alcohol (hang my head in shame,) so I wasn’t the wild, party girl type. 6:00AM was right in the middle of my sleep.

    6:00AM was ONLY for the love of my two sweet young ones, 21 months apart. We called my son “the farmer” he was awake every morning at 5am toddling in his little one piece sleeper to wake me up because “he didn’t want to miss anything.” When I think about it, he’s still the same way now at 21.

    Our daughter, came screaming into the world and kept screaming. I was up with her many times a night so if it was 6:00 am or 3:00am it was just to pick up my sweet girl, hold her in my arms and feel her body immediately relax.

    That’s what it takes if you want to be a mom, like I did. I wanted to be a mom since I was six years old, I became one at 33, after two and a half years of painful and emotionally draining infertility treatments.
    So at 3am, 6am, sure I was tired. But holding a crying baby in my arms, was nothing short of a miracle to me and it never upset me or made me mad. I was able to hold my baby as I sat in the rocking chair, all my dreams having come true. Who was I to complain?

Seth MacFarlane, Fail (Pop Cop)

Seth MacFarlane at the 2009 Comic Con in San Diego. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

SHOCKER!!! “Seth MacFarlane says he will not return as host of the Oscars.” And…….does anyone want him to? I don’t think so. Guess what Seth, it’s highly doubtful you’ll be asked! I for one, would not even watch any award show that you would host or basically any show you were in.What are you ten? Boob jokes? I thought the Oscars were highly insensitive to women to almost all religions and races, it’s 2013 if you forgot and it is just not right. It was never right but “we thought we had come a long way, baby.” Apparently, not.

I never really knew who you were exactly until someone told me you were the creator of the obnoxious show: “The Family Guy: which I watched once for ten minutes and I thought it was degrading so I turned it off. I know, some people loved it but that’s their choice, not mine. I’m sure some people thought that the awards show was hysterical too. Good for them, not everybody likes the same thing.

The only thing I agreed with you is about how I too, dearly missed Tina Fey and Amy Poehler. When are they coming back? Maybe they could host all the awards show? With that talent I’m sure we wouldn’t even get bored. Ladies, please think about it. Imagine being them now, everyone’s favorite comedy duo, favorite people, favorite comics, that’s heady but it seems like they are handling their fame really well. That’s what people love to see. Trust me.

If I were Seth MacFarlane my ego would be bruised but of course, he wouldn’t admit it, doesn’t seem like he’s the type, right? “Sorry, I went too far, sorry I offended everybody on earth” would have gone a long way.” But being a baby about it and saying “he doesn’t think he wants to host again” is childish. Actually, it’s kind of sad in a pitiful way, like a child who does not want to own up to what they have done; Seth MacFarlane, grow up, you come off sounding like a brat.

Thankfully, I turned off the television at about 10:30 Eastern Standard Time, right after the snippy-Meryl-Streep-commentator-fall-on-the-steps-girl and right before the lovely Adele sang her beautiful song. These days you can still get a good night’s sleep and anything you miss, you can see on Youtube the next day or later in the week if you are so inclined.

All I wanted to do was go to sleep, so I nestled my head on my pillow. The show was boring and insensitive and not really funny at all. But, at least we are all safe from the future because “Seth MacFarlane doesn’t want to host the Oscars again.” You gotta love it.

Related articles

• Here Are All of Seth MacFarlane’s Predictable Sexist, Homophobic, and Racist Oscar Jokes (gawker.com)

ramblings from a very tired person

“I Am Tired” – NARA – 558861 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

so tired I think my eyes are asleep, they are certainly half closed while i am typing this so forgive the e.e. cummings style, a wonderful poet.i feel like there are pieces of chalk in my eyes, the ones i used to use when I was a kid, outside on the street; thick pieces of multi-colored chalk sticks, pink, yellow, blue, white.  they always got on our hands and clothes but they were great for hopscotch games and messages to the world. hearts and balloons and your best friends names. when i was little we had a tight group of friends, 4 of us that played together every day; our moms were great friends too. we played in an alley and our moms sat together on a little wall, talking, smoking cigarettes back then. in the summertime, we would run like crazy when we heard frankie and the Good Humor truck coming around the corner, his familiar voice shouting “Hola Amigo.” our very first Spanish words.we were so proud.

out of the 4 of us, I am still friendly with all of them since we are all in our fifties and have known each other since we were born. our lives live in each others memories, moments that one of us remember, we fill in each others blank stairs; we’re all very different. one guy is not much of a communicator, he sends a joke or two on line once in a while and every ten years we see each other on his big birthdays in July which is fun. the next one will be 6o ,wow that sounds so ancient  yet it’s a mere jump. skip and dive into those frozen waters for me. I can’t just yet roll it around my brain or head and certainly not my tongue.not yet.

i could never understand people reading the obituary pages, what’s the point? my 85 year old mother started reading them with one of her friends a few months ago and now she does it every day. i looked at it once and the one time I looked i found our realtor dead, at a young age. or the age they said. she used to tell me about all the cosmetic surgery she would always have; there was no cause of death listed. I was shocked and saddened to see her familiar face on the page.you just don’t expect to know anyone when u glance at the page. i stopped reading after that one.

that’s what tonight has been like, looking at old photographs, too tired to get out of bed to pee, too lazy to go down to the kitchen and snack because i don’t want to change my feeling of warmth and safety from this 60 degree bonus day. we deserved this day, after super-s0aker  Sandy and the snowstorm that followed. this tiny neighborhood has outtages every single year, except for this one, we were so very grateful.

thanks for giving us a break this year. we sorely needed it and was much appreciated. i need to save this and then save draft. and then, right away before you say anything else, i will be dropping my head on my cool pillow and try to go to sleep. peaceful sleep. good night.

“Bullies Are Cruel” – Our New School Song

The kids playing together while dinner is prepped (Photo credit: Alexander N)

“I want to sing like a hyena, and dance like a ballerina

Make ice cream out of your toes

Flip sausages for your nose

I want to run, jump and hide

with my friends at my side

We want to play and never go to sleep

we want to giggle and flop into a heap.

On the days there is no school

we can be found jumping in the park’s pool.

Life is great in every way,

just have friends

like mine, it’s the only way.

If there is someone who seems alone

go up to them and ask them to play along.

It’s not easy being new

so try your best to be kind and true.

It was that way for me

before my friends were nice to me.

So give a helping hand, whenever you can

give everyone a chance to hold hands and play

Peers become important in middle childhood and have an influence distinct from that of parents. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Don’t hurt someone’s feelings

not on purpose and not by chance

think of how you would feel

if you were in their PANTS!

No BULLIES at our school

because we know BULLIES ARE CRUEL!!!!”

Haiku Heights – Home

English: Love heart (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In my sleep, afraid

my foot searches for his leg

I sigh with relief.

******************************************************

A short visit home

Daughter pops out of her car

Running for a hug

**********************************************************

Her tail wags with joy

dog dashes and jumps on me

rust- colored, grinning.

**************************************************************************

My heart is a pool

for those that I love dearly

Keep each other warm.

**************************************************************************

 

Tired, Tired, Tired

(106/365) Tired but can’t sleep (Photo credit: Sarah G…)

I can’t watch the news anymore; even when I just glance at the news on the computer, I know the world is a scary place, a terrible place.  The fear is in my stomach first, like raw clenching tentacles and the tightness inside me like an army of multi-colored stretched rubber bands.  I feel anxious, I see it reflected in my own eyes, fear, insecurity, doubt. Yes, the world is a bad place and many dreadful things happen. I also take other people’s pain and clutch it in my arms, like a hug surrounding a wounded child.

I can list a number of my most awful days in a second, like rapid-fire stock market trading but when I try to conjure up incredibly good days, I have to think, hard. The usual, marriage and childbirth come up, of course, but really, what was the last golden day I had that was out of the ordinary?  I stop to think. Tonight, I can’t come up with anything; my brain has been taken over by fear and pain.

I know I am too sensitive but it sticks with me like a second skin; sometimes I invent future nightmares. I know I shouldn’t do that and I try to stop myself  but there are times when I feel overwhelmed. It passes, I know, but while it happens, I forget.

My legs, from Fibromyalgia tonight are aching, painful, much more than usual. Fibromyalgia is eating up my world slowly but aggressively. New symptoms, tingling and numbness of my hands and feet, leg pain, imbalance, nerve pain too. It wasn’t supposed to get worse, that’s what the doctor told me, or did I dream that? I knew it wouldn’t get better and I accepted that easily but today is so much more painful than other days. I want the pain to end and drown in sleep. Tonight, I want to curl up and try to find a comfortable position and just lay here in the dark. I asked my husband to come upstairs to kiss me good-night, I haven’t done that in many years; his tender kiss on my forehead reassuring.

I don’t want conversation or to watch television, I don’t want to read a morbid book or even a funny book and I don’t want to listen to music which usually calms my soul. I just want to stay still in the dark and breathe evenly and not hurt. This pain is severe; I never take pain medication but tonight I may have to grope for a pill from an outdated prescription.  I don’t really want to take it, it’s a false reading of tortured limbs but tonight, but tonight I need a break.

A break from physical and emotional pain, let me lie here and fall asleep with my dog sleeping on my foot and my warm diet root beer by my side. Let me forget the worry and the fear and the pain. “I don’t want to fight,” I said, to my sister online; I don’t want to waste the little energy I have on our frequent disagreements. Fighting is not the answer and not the solution. This stress on me is unnecessary and I want it to end, there is no room in my life for painful interactions. Whatever it takes, I promise to try to do it because I want peace between us, even if sometimes, it is artificial.

Let me stay in my little corner tonight, huddled on one side and let me sleep, just let me sleep.

Worried Sick: One Big Crazy-Ass Blog Post

Emotion: Fear (Photo credit: Cayusa)

I. Am. A. Robot. I have no affect. (Great psychology word, so expressive for non-expression) I lie on my bed with my computer lounging on my bulging stomach, my legs are crossed at my ankles. I still have a French manicure on my toes. I have no extreme emotions, neither sadness or happiness. No smile on my face, no frown. This is not me. I have felt like this for about a week; what has happened to me and why? The last few weeks have been busy and exciting, my daughter graduated from high school, she went to her prom, we went to her pre-prom party; all that was wonderful. I had feelings then, why not now? Here I am, not loving my new dog, not hating her, just coexisting. I don’t feel any emotion in any extreme way. “It’s a phase” I say to myself, “It will pass…you are tired.”

I try to analyze myself: am I hiding emotions, protecting myself, WAIT, I did feel something the other day that felt like strong responses. I felt RAGE and I felt IMPATIENT. But, now I’ve forgotten why–oh no, forgetting things again!! That IS indeed scary. I’ve also been worried lately about my health: I think I have Multiple Sclerosis, (which is now considered an autoimmune disease like my Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis? really?) Ovarian Cancer, Stomach Cancer, Alzheimer’s Disease (both for me and my husband) and various other horrible illnesses. All life threatening. I feel scared of the unknown, yes, it is known as ” anticipatory anxiety,” I am fearful. Should I just take a xanax (anti-anxiety medication) and shut up? I’m thinking maybe it’s time….I bet my pal, Jenny Lawson, Bloggess, extraordinaire, would urge me to take one…okay, maybe two. I should take medication “as needed” the trouble with anxiety is that while you are going through it you think you are sane…..when you are REALLY NOT thinking clearly (little crazy voice in your head says “but maybe you are….”) at all.

Am I just having a full-fledged anxiety attack? (sounds like it) Probably (now on paper too!!) You know, ever since I made that damn appointment with that neurologist it’s been hounding me like a dog with it’s smelly barbecue flavored chew toy. I should know, I have a dog, and let me tell you she does not let go of her bones, she grips it with all her meaty strength. She will bite me or anyone who gets in her way of food. I can understand the love of food but those bite marks hurt.  They make us all look like heroin addicts with her baby teeth bite marks. Where was I? Oh yes, neurologist: my internist suggested I go a few months ago for tingling under my feet and in my hand. I don’t think I even have those symptoms anymore but it’s one of those things I can’t cancel…..(because it’s bad luck) because I should check it out. In my mind, I see Ellis Grey from Grey’s Anatomy one of my favorite television shows and that scares me. neurology, neurologist, even going for an appointment scares me to death.  I may indeed have a diagnosis; I believe it’s called FEAR.

I don’t feel anything yet I worry, not a good life to be living. My own post is scaring me. I’ve been there before, I will get out of it again. Maybe I just need more sleep. Or take Albuterol since climbing up all those flights of stairs today at my daughter’s orientation at college made me wheeze and it won’t go away. (I have no medication for asthma). I just need to slow it down, in my body and in my mind. I have a solution: a nap; that would do me a lot of good and some herbal raspberry tea. It will put all my FEARS to rest and give me the sleep I’m lacking. I can never sleep well, the first night someplace new anyway. Maybe they have a term for that, I can add to my list of phobias.

p.s. the photo scares me too.

The Papoose Of Pain

papoose, Otavalo, Ecuador (Photo credit: lumierefl)

We carry our illnesses like a papoose; they clutch us firmly yet we can’t put them down for a minute to rest. There is no relief from chronic pain. I used to think that sleeping was my cure; it used to be but not for a long time. Sleep was my escape for any emotional or physical pain, now it just adds to my frustration. I can fall asleep easily enough (with medication) but then I go through long periods of time when I wake up at 3:30am and am up to at least 6:30am if not longer. Sometimes I fall back asleep for a few hours but it is restless and fitful, with anxiety dreams, tossing and turning.

Who are we, these invisible people of pain? We are mothers and daughters, sons and fathers, sisters and cousins. We were not born this way but one day our “normal” lives changed, forever. For me, my life changed with menopause at age fifty. My body fell apart and it hasn’t been the same ever since. I developed thyroid problems and body aches and pains that left me limp, in bed, groaning in pain. No doctor could help me, my internist looked disgusted as she left the examining room, leaving me inside, alone, weeping with pain. “There’s nothing more I can do for you” she said and slammed the door. I felt bad that I had bothered her, actually she made me feel bad; it was NOT my fault.

I’m not saying I ever ran marathons but I didn’t have to wait to plan the day’s activities until the very last moment. I could plan going to Central Park to meet a friend a week in advance, or to see a new Woody Allen movie with a friend, or go drink a mimosa with brunch. Now, I always have to add: “but I will call you in the morning to see how I’m feeling.” My true friends understand; I’m the one with the problem. I feel ninety years old and handicapped, actually my eighty-five year old mother is in much better shape than I am, for that I am grateful.

I’ve given up hope on a cure for the future, I’m happy that the Rheumatologist I have not only believes in Fibromyalgia but takes it seriously and wants to help me. He also appreciates me because I understand the parameters, there is no cure and when he asks me how I feel I tell him “that under the circumstances I have been doing fine.” I am not bitter, I am sad once in a great while, and enormously uncomfortable. I thought losing weight would help but I lost twenty-five pounds and the pain is still the same.

For the last two weeks I’ve been lying down in the back of our car for four to six hours per day; tomorrow after a grueling tour visiting my daughter’s second college choice, I will sit for another four hours going home. Once home, I will take a hot bath and put on the jacuzzi jets and there I will stay until I can stop screaming silently with pain.