Another Day

25 06 2015

A fine but not recommended fuel source.

I awoke at 6AM convinced my right arm was broken at the tricep. I even bolted out of bed to check, despite this being 1.5 hours before my alarm goes off & having only gone to sleep 5 hours earlier.

The mirror betrayed no bruising, the arm was not particularly hot or swollen, & I lied back down, hoping to fall asleep. But the pain was terrible. There was no position where it didn’t hurt. I felt stupid, as the wife of one of my friends & the mother of 2 others is actually having her arm amputated today. I tried to imagine the pain this poor woman was going through & send prayers. Then it was 7:30 & I had to get up anyway.

There’s been a kink in my right neck for two days, but it appeared to be getting better so I had a quick hot shower & got ready for work. Hot showers either loosen up muscles & release fibro pain, or they hide it for a short time. This hid it.

By the time I got to work, I was hobbling like a little old lady, completely devoid of energy & incapable of finding words. I took 3 clients (God bless em) & left, only to realize I was very low on petrol (then left the gas cap off) & had no food (bought hot dogs & kettle chips).

I hate being a pain blob. It feels so stupid. I have no energy and I have meaningless pain coming from nowhere while other people actually suffer from actual injuries.

The pisser is that I suspect this all comes from a good health move. I had my last cigarette Saturday night. It hasn’t been too hard to go cold turkey, as I simply engage reason every time I want one. “You complain of fibro taking your energy, yet you want something you know will deplete your O2. Are you stupid?” And words to that effect.

And I have had more energy. A lot more energy. The type of energy that allows me to walk around the block every day, dance for a little while, do piles of laundry & put them away on the same day [the fibromyalgics are gasping “NO. IT CANNAE BE DONE, CAPTAIN!”]. I have cleaned two large boxes out of my closet to take to Good Will.

And I wonder why I’m in flare.

I may feel better, but I can’t forget I have fibromyalgia. Pacing is key. I must pace myself. And so must you.

Or you also will feel like invisible bees are assaulting your every limb while your right arm feels like it ought to be dangling by a sinew & your hips cry out for an ambulance subscription, just in case.

And carbs. All the carbs you will think you will need.

God, I wish I could sleep.




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