I had a bit of a flare up on a perfectly wonderful, sunny, gorgeous day. It was 65° Fahrenheit and just lovely. But it was a weak-ass flareup. It was mostly fatigue with a bit of pain. The morning dose of Vicodin took the edge off the pain. The fatigue stuck around and got worse as the day wore on, like a normal bout of flareup fatigue.
And I didn't really know why, so I checked the weather forecast. Well, let me show you a photographic representation. I've been doing the 365 self-portrait project since 2010. I've recently started my sixth year. I'm in a group on Flickr that calls itself: "We're Here". We pick a theme for a day and then we "invade" a group with our photos of that theme. The theme for that day- Sunday, March 22nd, was "Lazy Photography" and the description was: "The great photographers venture out into the world, fearless and tireless. They search for opportunities, and even create opportunities. god bless 'em. But this group is for when you'd rather park yourself on the couch or on the porch and wait for an opportunity to come to you. and if it doesn't come...just take a picture of your foot."
I'm a literal smartass, so that is exactly what I did- I took a photo of my foot on the swing on my back porch (which is a massive wooden deck, actually).
And, this photo is less than 24 hours later-
Is it any wonder I was having a flareup?!
Yesterday, I was having one of those low-grade flareup feelings. I felt like crap, but I could at least sit down and stand up when I needed to... And I had to go to the store. I managed to live through it, the fatigue kept trying to pull me down to the floor, but I managed to get home.
A few hours later, my son came home from whatever it is he does when he's not home and not at work. He had two of his friends with him and the girl he's dating- I'm not sure if we're calling her his girlfriend yet or not, but you know... Anyway- the kids- and by "kids", I mean "adults in their early 20s" wanted me to take some photos for them. My son rides a sport bike. You and I probably know them better as "crotch rockets", but they don't like it when you call them that. So, of course I said I'd do it and we left the house to do some photos on a newly constructed dead-end street in an industrial area (no traffic). The girl didn't want to be in any of the photos so she and I sort of hung out while the guys did their drive-bys so I could do panning shots and so on. During the course of our conversations, I told her this about my fibro- "I could either sit at home and feel like shit, or I can come out here, take some cool photos of you guys and still feel like shit. So, I'm here." (and I said that's how I survive the faire on flareup days. I can sit at home and feel bad or I can at least be somewhere fun with great people). I spent a couple hours on my feet, walking around this dead end street (it was a weird dead end, the long street gave way to a 90° turn and that part ended about a half mile up. But there were no buildings around it, just an open field on one side, a highway at the end, and a pheasant farm on the other side).
Then there's today. Today, at 4 AM, my body decided to wake me up. Wake me up out of a dead sleep. Because why the fuck not? I stayed in bed till 430, trying to trick myself into falling back to sleep, but it didn't work. Fibrofuckingmyalgia will not listen to reason. And when I tried to move, my body was quite sure that was a bad idea. It took me ten minutes to get out of bed and get downstairs. After I did my morning stuff (breakfast, reading news, catching up on Facebook, trash day, dogs out), I went back to bed to try and take a nap. It was a crappy, less-restful 90 minutes of semi-consciousness. And today is the first of the month, so I had bill-paying errands to do. I struggled for everything today. Showering, getting dressed, going outside, trying to get into the vehicle (mid-size pickup truck), standing at the bank, walking. Breathing. Blergh.
I took my usual morning dose of Vicodin. I did all those things and at 2 PM, I took two more Vicodin. And about 45 minutes later, I felt the edge slide off the pain. I was still in pain, but at least I didn't have to struggle to get up out of my chair. And here's why-
Tomorrow's got rain (a 90-goddamn-percent chance of rain), then we just drop all the warmth and go back to cold temps. For a freakin' day. The earlier weather (that I didn't screen cap) was predicting snow on Friday, so I suppose I should be glad that we're just getting rain tomorrow and cold on Friday.
So, the Generic Cymbalta isn't an all-out miracle, but damn, there are a lot more good days than bad now. I'm going to accept that. Because a little flareup that goes away after a couple of hours is doable. And today's shitty flareup? Well, it sucks, but it also has a clear reason (the weather) and I feel like there's an end to it. Compared to last Spring when I had a "flareup" that lasted for months- I'll take it. But I see what you did there, Fibrofuckingmyalgia... April 1st- haha, sucks to be you, human! BOOM. Flareup on April Fool's Day.
And because I know you're wondering, here are a few shots from yesterday with the guys.
This one is called "Girls on Instagram be like..."
This is yesterday's 365. I had Andrew (kid in red) hold the camera because he was the tallest. My son is in the black helmet behind me with the girl he's been seeing, and Reese is behind them. And I am woefully underdressed for this party.
No comments:
Post a Comment