I had to go to the doctor on Thursday, March 10th. It started out like usual- with me dragging myself upright and then to the bathroom and on downstairs. I took a fitful nap then had to go to the doctor. Just a regular follow-up visit. My next fibro follow-up is in April.
After the hour-long drive to the hospital, I zoomed in. I walked right through that car park and down that long-ass hallway just fine. I walked like a normal person. I had to make myself slow down because despite the legs being willing, my cardiovascular system isn't quite as ready. But I did good. I was zipping all over the place.
I walked like a normal person. I did things like a normal person. I was in a good mood and I felt good. I had a new lab tech to take my blood and I did my usual... as in, I bombarded him with my enthusiasm and acted like my typical blabbery self that sometimes makes Shawn wish I'd be stricken with laryngitis. I tell every new lab guy that my veins (arteries? Whichever they use) roll. They hide, they roll, they collapse. It has been this way forever. Even when I was skinny. So, if he failed at finding them in my arm, it wasn't his fault. But I harassed him all the while he was digging around in my arm. Not the smartest thing, looking back, because he could have easily made it more painful.
But, I bet he remembers me next month when I go in.
My appointment went well- and the best part is, this was finally an appointment where my pain wasn't an issue. Mostly because now that I've been officially diagnosed with fibro, the rheumatology clinic takes care of it. But, I wasn't in pain enough to be bothered! And after zipping all over the hospital, I drove the hour home and went to the grocery store. Ceej called me as I was almost there and told me she'd meet me there (she needed some things too, and even paid with most of them with her own money). But, I texted her with "I'm here and going in" and was almost done by the time she came into the store. Because I was walking normally.
Like a normal person.
Till this morning.
I slept awful last night. Sometime after midnight, my skin started itching with a fiery, poking itch. It still itches and I'm two doses down for three of my Gabapentin. My muscles feel like they're burning, like they're about to burst out of my skin. And my skin feels like it is on fire. Everything aches. My hands feel hot, but when I touch the skin, it feels cold. From the balls of my feet to the part where my neck meets my skull. The entire body in between hurts.
And exhausted. I'm so tired. Literally, twice today, while I was out running errands, I just wanted to lie down in a ball and sleep. I never have that urge. But I actually looked at the floor in the two places of business I was in and convinced myself that if I were to lie down there, I'd need help getting up and that would be embarrassing. And I hate to be embarrassed in public. At least, without some compensation or at least to give something back in a comedic way. There would have been no comedy if I had chosen to curl into a ball at the insurance agent's office or in the lobby of the credit union while I waited for the notary.
I know that today is the result of yesterday. I also know that tomorrow will probably be worse. I'm at least, expecting the worst and hoping for the best.
Or at least some comedy relief from it all. Because what good is it if we can't laugh at it?
Edited to add: hours later...
I ended up taking a nap that did no good at all. I feel worse than before. And here we are, an hour after Vicodin and moments before my third Gabapentin of the day... and I'm still exhausted. I seriously feel like I might go to bed soon. It isn't even 7 PM yet.