I hurt. Everywhere. It’s not funny anymore. This flare has lasted waaaaaay too long. I was lamenting to another blogger (Little Miss, who has an excellent fibro blog) that even the weight of my blankets have been causing pain when I sleep at night. Forget the fact that I can hardly sleep in the first place, what with my brain waves jiggling at about 200 miles per hour all night long, this new development strikes me as sleep disturbance overkill.

BUT….I was going through some moving boxes today (yes, I’ve lived with Tom since July, and have yet to completely unpack), and I found my old friend, my memory foam pillow. I used to get excited by attending a rock concert, going out to dinner or  traveling to new and exotic places (like Indiana). Now, the thing that brings me more joy than the prospect of having Antonio Banderas standing nude on my doorstep is a damned pillow. I bought it on Overstock.com a few years ago, and it is the most comfortable, wonderful, smooshable item I’ve ever owned. Tom is all of those things too, but technically, I don’t own him.

I can’t wait to pretend to sleep tonight!


Ahhhhh….Saturday morning. The day we get to loll in bed, snuggling and drinking coffee and catching each other up on the week’s news. We jabber endlessly about everything under the sun, make plans for the future, and map out the weekend. My favorite day.

During the week, Tom wakes up and gets us coffee. He brings a carafe of it up to me in bed before he gets ready for work. This morning, I woke up first. My plan was to sneak downstairs, brush my teeth, get the carafe and bring it upstairs to my sleeping sweetie, who I’d awaken with a kiss.

It didn’t exactly go according to plan. With a the finesse of a delicate ballerina, I started at the top step, and WHAM! My feet went out from under me like they were covered in banana peels. In fast-motion, I slid down six or seven steps, making a nice loud BOOM, BOOM, BOOM sound as my head hit each one. Nice. Smooth. Tom leapt out of bed and ran down to help me. All I could think about was that I hadn’t brushed my teeth yet, so I wouldn’t talk to him to tell him that I was okay. Besides, I’m still not sure if I am okay.

Even the tiniest misstep can have devastating effects on me. Last week, I misjudged the height of the step on my mother’s back porch and sort of jarred my body. It made me cry, because I knew that a little mistake like that could cost me for a long time, because of the Fibromyalgia. And it did. Of course, I then I get into the whole cycle of trying not to see it that way, trying to change my thinking so as not to make what I’m anticipating (from past history) come to pass. But it always does. And it’s happening again today, in spades.

I have to go lie back down now.

The Outlook for Today

September 14, 2007

theda on the rocksFriday’s forecast: Unexplainable aching and burning in hips, legs and right foot. The Doppler indicates mild shoulder pain to the north, with pressure increasing by the minute. 95% chance of whining and griping later today, clearing by this evening. Scattered sleeplessness around midnight, and grogginess by morning. The five day forecast is a mystery.

Fibrofog Blog

September 11, 2007

fogI am learning to deal a little better with the fibro fog (I hate that term- why can’t it be something pretty, like “fibro mist” or “fibro fantasyland”?). When I realize it’s coming on, instead of crying in frustration as I used to, the first thing I do is to warn Tom. This way he’s aware that I’m in space cadet mode, and he stays on the lookout for my keys, my cell phone, and the glasses on top of my head. Also, he can flee, screaming, if he needs to.

If I can rest, I do it. Sometimes, just going back to sleep for a few minutes, and waking up as though the first time didn’t count, helps.

I drink coffee. Lots of it. I don’t know if this is a remedy, I just love coffee.

Stretching helps. Even two minute’s worth.

I write every day. Even bad writing (like this) helps me keep my mind focused on something, and enables me to stay as sharp as a butter knife.

I ask myself a lot of questions throughout the day: Did you take the key out of the ignition before locking the doors? Check. Did you turn off the stove? Check. Are you thoroughly sick of feeling so stupid? Check.

Mostly, when I get this way, I try to give myself a break. I don’t talk on the phone, I try not to schedule big events, sometimes I just zone out and watch a movie or something. I try to be as gentle and nurturing as possible, and not beat myself up with negatives. If I had a friend who was a little slow on the uptake, I’d never scream or grow impatient. So I’m working on treating myself as my own best friend. My own very slow, spaced out friend.

The Fibromyalgia Pledge

September 4, 2007

ornate on my honor, I will try

to love me and my body,

and to refrain from whining, no matter what

–unless I have to.