October 6th and 7th found me out at the Stronghold Olde English Faire. It wasn't just "cooler weather", it was downright COLD! And oh, boy, was it wonderful! Sure, I was wearing my ineffective cloak and not-period fingerless gloves (I had to keep my fingers free for photo-taking), but the fact that I wasn't dying of heat exhaustion or having a flareup from the humidity was enough for me to love the day.
Till I sat down for any extended period of time and then tried to move. Turns out, this fibro-beast doesn't like the cold weather any more than it likes the hot weather. This whole year has been a disturbing visit into chronic pain hell from whence I have no escape! (did you hear thunder and did my words echo? No? That's it, I'm firing the sound crew, they do nothing!). Luckily, on Saturday, I had the help of an armored escort. He helped me to my feet when I needed help standing up. Would you like to see a photo of him? Of course you would. I took this photo last year (2011) at Bristol. This was actually the day we met.
If not for his hand at times, I wouldn't have been able to stand up. The cold didn't just "settle in my bones", as I heard my elders say numerous times. The cold soaked into my muscles and my bones and set up tents, staged a protest, burned some effigies of what a pain-free existence used to be. The cold marched on the streets and stormed the castle. The cold intercepted the game-winning touchdown and ran it back down the field while my team floundered like so many... uh, flounders on the field.
You get the picture.
I had trouble falling asleep, because the cold made everything tighten up and the muscle relaxers did nothing to help. Sunday at Stronghold, I had my daughter with me and I took pain meds upon arrival at the faire. It helped a little. It was also not as cold as the day before.
So, what I take away from this past ten months...
The weather changing can trigger a flareup.
Humidity can trigger a flareup.
Heat can trigger a flareup.
Cold can trigger a flareup.
Physical activity can trigger a flareup.
A butterfly flapping its wings in New Cumbria can cause a flareup. (I don't even know if that's a real place. Maybe Cumbria isn't all that new, who am I to judge?).
So, basically, I need to live in a pressurized, climate-controlled environment and never move. Never get up and walk around. Never go outside. Never do anything. Never see anyone. Never, never, never, never.
Fuck that noise.
I spent three goddamn years trapped inside my house, inside this stupid body, at the will of a doctor who just wouldn't give me that much-needed consultation letter. I am not locking myself in the house and missing out again. I have no idea what can be done for this- I have a followup appointment on Thursday- but this ridiculous disease is not taking my life from me. I let it take enough from me.
So, I'll muster through. March on. Carry on and keep bitching.
I have another faire this weekend, one I've never been to and I can't wait. By the way, here's a link to the photos from Stronghold Olde English Faire in Oregon, Illinois.
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