Monday, December 19, 2011

There is no title I can come up with to convey my feelings...

I've been having a flareup for almost a week. I'll have a day where I feel somewhat decent, so I'll do things, like go to the store or go see my mom in the hospital. Then the next day, I can barely pull myself out of bed to put clothes on, much less do anything. Today is the second part. I'm exhausted, although I am sleeping. I ache. My skin is doing that fire-itch thing. It feels like the bones in my hands and feet are trying to escape through my skin. And I'm swollen.

The edema thing- we can't be sure that's fibro-related because it hasn't been a symptom that has been marked or whatever. I have no damn clue how they choose which symptoms go on the list, but I can say that I started having fibro symptoms in 2004 and it was at the end of 2004 I started to have issues with edema. Sometimes it isn't much of a problem- my legs get puffy and there's a dent where my boot was when I take them off. Then there are days like today, where my legs look like they belong on commercially recognizable mascot for a certain marshmallow company or that equally recognizable tire company mascot. Both are referred to as "Man" at the end of their titles. You know what I'm talking about, right? Yeah, you know you do.

So, for almost a week, it has been one day on, one day off of the crapfest. Today was so bad that I didn't even bother to put on "real" clothes. I'm wearing my too-big yoga pants that I usually wear in the mornings because I don't wear PJs to bed (also, when I work out, I wear these pants) and my giant blue shirt. That's how I describe it: "Hey, can you bring me my giant blue shirt?" and the person to which I'm speaking knows which shirt I'm talking about. I used to wear this shirt over a decade ago and it actually fit me back then. Now it is a giant shirt... the sole purpose of wearing it is for comfort.

I've been taking some daytime Vicodin on these bad days. Not for the pain so much, though. Because I can deal with pain. I've done it for years. No, I've been taking the Vike (as I've started referring to the Vicodin) to settle down these itch-sensors. It works. It doesn't eliminate the itching, but it does subdue the sensation enough for me to stop bitching out loud about it.

All I want to do is eat comfort food and curl in a ball. Except the comfort food usually has too much sodium and curling in a ball requires me to get up from this chair. And I'm not getting up from this chair.

Oh, is that Cadbury? Will you bring it to me? No? Jerk. Fine. The next time I get up, I'm taking that Cadbury and you can pry it from my paralyzed-with-pain claw-like hand. Remember, I'm hopped up on Vike... I have the grip of an angry elderly person.

Damn right you better back away slowly. Hey, while you're up, can you get me that Cadbury behind you?

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