Sunday, July 18, 2010

My body does not like the heat.

It never has, really. I lived in Georgia for four years and while I didn't absolutely die from the heat, I didn't like it. I tolerated it because I had no choice. I went out in that disgusting heat and humidity because I had to. Of course, it didn't do to me what it does to me now.

Now the heat and humidity drag me to the floor, moaning and wailing in such a pathetic way. I feel as though all I can do is lie there, quivering takes too much energy, so I just lay there while heat and humidity kick me in the teeth. Okay, that's not a good analogy. It doesn't really kick me in the teeth, it actually beats me with huge wet noodles till my body aches and I'm soaked with wet noodle water and sweat.

Sounds delightful, doesn't it?

I started taking the muscle relaxer (Cyclobenzaprine) just over two weeks ago. And I do feel a lot better now than I did even two weeks ago. I feel that I have more stamina than I've had in the last several months. The last few days, I haven't been completely drained. The pain has been touch and go, some days are good and some days have a spell where I don't feel so great.

The longer I'm exposed to heat and humidity, the worse I feel. I went to the Bristol Renaissance Faire on July 10th. I did pretty good- lasted till about 2 PM before I started to really feel bad. By 3 PM, I'd had enough and felt I'd drop any minute. I made my way back out to my trusty truck, unlaced all my garb (yes, I dress in garb) and sat with the AC on- directly blowing in my face, in fact. About ten minutes went by and I felt a lot better. My companions joined me shortly after and I took them back to their motel (Angus came up from Texas and he had a friend meet up with him from Michigan). In the motel I did a few tarot card readings for the friend and it was quite nice. The room was cool and I felt infinitely better by the time I had to get on the road for home.

I'm going to the faire again in two weeks with Ceej, my 17-year-old daughter. So, if I feel this much better now, in two weeks' time, I should feel even better.

Since I've been taking Cyclobenzaprine, I've been sleeping better. Before, I'd sleep a couple hours, wake up, sleep for an hour, get up for a couple hours, go back to bed for another hour or two. I felt like I was on the verge of sleep all the time. If I sat down to watch a movie, I would fall asleep. If I did anything other than sit straight up in this computer chair, I'd fall asleep. If I had to drive anywhere farther than across town, I loaded up with caffeine to get me through. Some nights, I'd stay awake. Not because I wanted to.

Now I fall asleep much easier and I stay asleep for a longer block of time. A good solid four hours, then I might wake up (note the time) and go back to sleep till it was time to get up. A few nights in there, I've actually slept from the time I fell asleep till my alarm went off.

And its been great! I enjoy this thing you all call "sleep". Its delightful! Why haven't I been doing this all along!?

And, if you have been following along in this thing called "my life", you'll know that sleeping better helps ease the pain related to Fibromyalgia.

I do have a problem though. My family. The disabled guy doesn't care much about anyone's pain. I just got up from here and asked him some questions about all this. As it turns out, he thinks I'm "blowing all up out of proportion". He thinks I'm exaggerating how I feel. He says: "You get up bitchin' every day." Well, that's not entirely true. I only complain when it reaches the point that I can't hold it in any longer. I don't exaggerate. And I certainly do not "wake up bitchin' every day."

After that disastrous conversation, I decided against asking the kids what they thought about this and the condition I'm in. I already know that one of my kids thinks I exaggerate and one of them acts as though I'm outright lying. The other one is sort of wrapped up in life events, so I'm not even going to bother.

Today was an okay day. I was tired- most likely from the heat- and my skin was only slightly achy. My muscles feel bruised too, but as long as I don't bump into anything, I'm okay. I'm a little more hurt and a bit flabbergasted that nobody in my family cares. Wow.

After almost six years, you'd think I'd be used to it by now.

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