Category Archives: Just me

Bloody Nothing…

Fibromyalgia sucks broken, pointy, shards of glass.

When I am not moving around I feel as though Medusa has cursed me with her snaky hair and I am slowly turning to stone. When I am moving around various body parts audition for the role of broken bone, sprained ankle, etc. These body parts are just fine,  btw, they just want to make sure they have mastered their act in case they are ever called upon to play it.

Today I worked in the garden after PT because dry needling deep into your shoulders makes you hurt for days if you don’t move around afterwards and I couldn’t think of anything better for shoulder work than pulling weeds. Especially weeds that reached several feet in height. So I pulled and tugged and yanked. I dug and uprooted three lawn bags worth of weeds and afterwards my shoulders felt pretty damn good!

Then my right arm, halfway between the elbow and the wrist, started to twinge violently every couple of minutes. I would be fine, then I would feel as though I had bones pushing through my skin. I would gasp and freeze and before I could look at my arm the sensation would go away. My arm, not too surprisingly, did not have any bones sticking out of it.

After weeding we walked to get the kids and then to dinner. All in all we walked over 5 miles together.  At first I was doing really well. I felt good! Sure my hips would feel poorly every now and then and my back was yelling at me but during the walk to the restaurant I felt OK.

We sat down at the restaurant and ordered dinner and then I realized my mistake.

I had stopped moving.

All of my muscles stiffened up immediately. Monkey asked me if she could use my phone and I wasn’t sure I could reach down to get it out of my purse.

We still had to walk back.

During the walk everything ached and moaned. My left foot started sending out broken signals every few steps. My hands started to throb intermittently. My hips felt like they were breaking and my legs burned as though I were running a marathon instead of walking at an easy pace.

Now I am home and lying down. I am writing this even though my fingertips hurt when I type.

Dan and I, on one of those late night giggle-fests we sometimes get, came up with a drink called a “Bloody Nothing”. I am sure the path we took creating this drink is something you had to be there for but it’s a Bloody Mary, no vodka, no mix, no ice, served in a broken glass. It’s a Bloody Nothing because you are drinking broken glass.

Fibromyalgia is a Bloody Nothing. It’s all the pain and torment of a million problems, but there is nothing anyone can find that is wrong with you. Just the feelings you have, your nerve endings firing off for their own amusement.

 

 

Chewing through the leather straps …

My mother has this sign on her desk:

“Sometimes it’s not worth chewing through the leather straps in the morning…”

It perfectly sums up how I am feeling right now. To put it all into a poor parody of a great song:

It’s been One Week since the labs got done, 

I hoped the testing would bring me some answers, 

Three days since the doctor called, 

and I found out I’ve got fibromyalgia, 

Two days since I started drugs, 

They make me feel dizzy and covered in tiny bugs, 

This afternoon I went to therapy 

and got to learn how much my daughter’s been resenting me…

Yeah, that pretty much sums it up. After years of testing and medications and treatments I have a diagnosis that wasn’t even on my horizon. I am not exactly pleased to have this “answer” because there aren’t any fixes for the condition but I am happy that I do not have something degenerative.

In other words; I may feel like this forever, but at least I shouldn’t feel worse than this, and forever will actually last forever, so that’s a bright shiny silver lining.

In other news my eldest monkey asked her dad and I go to therapy with her, wherein she asked to get permission to get back together with her old boyfriend. (Long story, let’s just sum up and say it’s not happening with our blessing and for many reasons we will do whatever we can to stop it.) After giving her the many well thought out reasons he and I have been compiling we got the usual teen answer, unhappiness. Then I got all the blame for every problem she has ever had and a withering look accompanied by “I. Love. You. MOTHER.”

Oh I am so excited to celebrate Mother’s Day, or as they call it in my household, “I’m not going shopping to get a present for that bitch” day!  A whole day spent with a child who wants nothing more than to save up every penny she gets “so she can move out as soon as possible MOTHER!” It’s going to be the best holiday since the one when rabid wolverines broke into our house and systematically ate each member of the family in alphabetical order, skin first.

Parenting a teen is so much fun!

The Art of Pain…

Evening came and went and whilst my love was sleeping the creativity I sought all day long surfaced in a rush. Sleep became impossible and I gave up trying when evening turned to night. In the quiet darkness of my house I crept to my desk and turned sleepless discomfort into shiny things. I found comfort in the act of shaping metal and pairing stone.

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The work is quiet and takes little physical energy, though it can often leave me exhausted if I do too much. I find sleep again after a few pieces are finished, my former restlessness replaced with satisfaction.