At what point can we change it from: "I'm having a fibro flareup" to "Well, this is a bad fibro spell..."? Because I've been having a flareup for seven straight days so far. Every day, I chomp down extra pain meds just to get through my day. And gods forbid I have to do anything on those days. I've been taking daytime pain meds just to deal with sitting around my house in pain. The days I have to leave the house, I take my pain meds to time with my activity. Just yesterday, I waited till 12 noon to take my pain meds, so they'd be in full force when I got to my daughter's college (her dorm room is on the third floor, no elevator! Maybe its the second floor, I don't really know, there's a lot of stairs).
Since I put off those meds till I left, I spent hours in a joint-crushing agony. My muscles burned, my joints felt like they were being smashed together. Even my robot knee felt like a human knee. I'm sure that sensation was merely muscle/tendon pain, since the actual joint is, you know, cyborg. About 45 minutes into my 70-ish minute drive, I felt the Vicodin kick in... and it was like a wave of relief. It didn't kill the pain (never does), but it eased the pain enough that I was able to relax my body somewhat. Upon arrival, I conquered those stairs, then I went down to Lake Michigan to take a short, text-able video for the Disabled Guy. And of course, I took some photos.
When I got home at 6 PM (that would be me being gone for literally exactly six hours), the Vicodin had started to wear off and all my muscles were stiffened up when I had to climb out of my vehicle.
And now today... day fucking seven. I'm officially changing the name of this "flareup" to "spell". I'm having a fibro spell. This is a hellish session. I'm hoping this incident doesn't last much longer. This fibro term can't keep going. How about outburst? Fibro explosion? No, that sounds like "flareup".
With this week-long session of Hell, I've been simultaneously aware of my body and completely out of touch with it. I usually have spatial awareness, as in, I know how fat I am. But these last few days, I've bumped into things that I normally swing by without a problem. And no, I'm not bumping into things because of a neurological issue. Its because I'm shuffling and limping, so my body is swinging around in an abnormal way.
I'm also in a love-hate relationship with my clothes. I need to wear clothes, but I don't want to wear them. I need soft clothes, but then, I need to do laundry. These are things that I don't want to deal with... can't I just wear jeans and a shirt without having to decide if the fabric is soft enough? Speaking of jeans- that's the one piece of clothing I have no choice in... jeans are jeans. Not much I can do about that. And I'm sorry all you yoga pants wearers, you may look fabulous in a pair of yoga pants, but I do not and I am not wearing them out in public.
"But what about YOUR comfort? Fuck the haters!" I hear you saying. Well, I'm more comfortable in jeans in public. I don't know how to explain it. It's a mental thing- jeans or ren faire clothes. That's all my ass will be covered in when its out there in public.
I'm gonna wrap this up because I'm hungry and I'm going to make myself a sandwich for dinner. Maybe two. (turkey on whole wheat with Swiss cheese and lettuce- because I know how to party hard on a Friday night!). Also, the dogs need to go out and there isn't anyone else who can work the doorknob.
"Have kids," they said, "They can do chores," they told me. Well, They failed to mention that those kids grow up and move out and have "lives" and "jobs" that make it impossible for them to come here and be at my beck and call. Damn kids...