Sunday, February 6, 2011

Annoying reminders and a bit of a rant (which I hate doing)

I know all about triggers and I'm learning what my triggers are (among them, heat and humidity, stress- both mental and physical- lack of sleep). And each time I take a medicine, I get to deal with that and I'm learning as I go...

But I think I get this thing figured out and something new pops up or something old happens as a reminder that there is absolutely nothing predictable about fibromyalgia other than it is unpredictable.

I started a new medicine (Gabapentin) two weeks (and two days) ago. I had to take it at night for a week, then start two times a day then increase it to three times a day "if tolerated". Week two with the twice-daily dose went quite well. I had some adjustment stuff to go through- such as learning one of the side effects was that I became inexplicably cranky. The dry mouth hasn't been great (please, no suggestions, I'm dealing with it) but I can live with these very mild side effects. I'm sure the "inexplicably cranky" stuff would be easier to deal with if I didn't have the stupid amount of stress that I do every single day.

My problem now isn't really fibro itself. And its mostly my own fault. After several days in a row of feeling rather good, I forget that I can (and do) still have random days where I feel like I've been thrown from a horse and then gravity increases itself and pulls me closer to the ground. At least, that's how I feel on some days. Like everything is heavier- my feet, my arms, my clothes, my hair. That says a lot about my hair, because I already have thick and heavy (awesome!) hair. But I digress...

Saturday (if you're reading this days down the line, then it would be the day before the Superbowl 2011), I had an incredibly stressful day. It started first thing in the morning with the Disabled Guy absolutely freaking out over nothing. He got angry and then took it out on me by first shouting at me then telling me he wasn't going to listen to me anymore and then gave me the silent treatment for hours- despite the things I was asking him or talking about really needed his attention. Then, around midday, he finally listened to what I had to say, and tried my suggestions and everything was fine. He stopped acting angry. But for me, the damage was done. My skin was itchy, my muscles ached, particularly my shoulders and neck (where I apparently carry a lot of stress). He went on to act cheerful for the rest of the day. Well, damn, thanks for all that but I can't be glad that you waited for hours, treating me like I was the biggest jerk in the world and then suddenly all is good.

Because all isn't good. I ached and itched for the rest of the day- till I took my Vicodin and Gabapentin. I even told him that. Something along the lines of: "You can't expect me to be all happy for you when the problem would have been fixed if you had just shut the fuck up and listened to me in the morning. Instead, you acted like an asshole and now my fibro is flaring up..."

Bring on today, where I was so exhausted that I could barely get up. I ended up taking a nap (a restless nap at that) and I've felt that extra gravity all day. We had snow again today and I tried to get snowflake photos and couldn't hold myself steady enough for many good ones. I've been drained of energy today, but not so exhausted that I couldn't stand upright.

Since today was better stress-wise, I figured I'd just cope. Well, lucky me, I have a 19-year-old son who seems to think its his duty to remind me of every little thing in the highest mocking way possible. I had a project to do (not for any reason other than for the sake of doing it) and I needed Ceej's help to do it. He stood by to complain about everything from the way we were trying to do it (something he has no knowledge of) to how he had to mute the TV so we could do it. So we just stopped. I told Ceej we'd do it later if she wanted but it wasn't important. And of course, Mister Self-Entitled refuses to see how his actions could have any bearing on how I feel. And no, he doesn't listen when I try to explain. I could talk to him till I'm hoarse, but it won't change how he feels. I pity his possible wife if she ever has a problem. Good luck, imaginary future daughter-in-law. I honestly thought I raised him to be a little more sensitive.

I hate complaining specifically about family members this way. Because I hate it when people do that. Some days, its hard to use that sparkling sense of humor to deflect the pain. And today is one of those days I'd like to run away from home.

But I can't, because I can't drive when I take my pain meds.

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