Day three of this flareup with no end in sight...

I've been released upon this planet without the proper coping mechanisms. Why would my leaders allow me to live in this extreme gravitational situation? This planet's gravity is so harsh that sometimes, I curl into what the inhabitants refer to as "a question mark". They have a name for this here and it seems there are more of us "visiting" than we originally thought.

The planet's medical personnel seem to think this can be helped with small, white, powdery substance that has been pressed into a dry capsule. You know, just like the four-course meals Mom used to make back on our home planet... oh, memories! I've had a steady level of these "pills" in my system since nearly three days ago. On what the Earthlings call "Saturday" at "6 AM", I took two of these pills. And I refreshed my levels every six hours... till today.

It seems that those "pills" alter my ability to function just enough that I can't operate their crude transportation devices with enough safety. They do little for this intense gravitational pull, however. And yet, when I don't take them, gravity intensifies.

This strange condition localizes itself in different places on my humanoid form. Some days, I have an all-over kind of pain. Like when we had that battle on the Splearge planet with the Tandonites... I'm sure you remember that. If not, you learned about it in history class. Other days, the pain intensifies in one localized place- sometimes the hands, sometimes the feet. Those are four of the most-used humanoid tools! Yes, four. You see, they only have two hands and two feet. These beings are a strange bunch. This condition lends itself to slightly more intermittent but no less painful conditions. One leads to intense localized pain and slight numbness in one of the feet. I know what you're thinking- how can there be numbness WITH pain? I don't know how to explain it to you. You need to come down to this planet to experience it for yourself.

If I could only get a piece of our planet and hold it near to me, I know I would feel better. Much like Kal-El, that bastard got a lucky break, didn't he? "Oh, look at me in my humanoid form on Earth! I can fly and stop bullets with my spit-curl" or something like that. Yeah, till someone threw a meteorite of your planet at you. Then you turn into some weird little kitten. At least he's not in pain...

I declare that this planet is a terrible place and it would not be worth our time to invade. Please send a rescue shuttle at the earliest possible convenience. I'll keep chewing down these powdery capsules and hope for some relief. I seem to have kept one ability from home- I heal from injury quite rapidly. The problem from that includes a severe itching sensation and a rapid tightening of the small muscles in the area of the injury.

Again, I beg of you to please send a rescue shuttle. I cannot take this much longer.

One of the things I hate about this stupid disease

Things are going along swimmingly, I suppose. I'm lucky enough to have gotten that elusive diagnosis which means I'm getting treated for it, and right now, that treatment is working. I am having many good days in a row, which is nice. But the one thing I hate about this...

How fickle is this stupid disease? I mean, why can I be perfectly fine one day- so fine that I can literally stand for hours and even run the length of the Bristol tilt yard and only be a little bit out of breath. And the next day, I'm so sore that I can barely get out of bed?

Okay, so there is the whole point of "well, dumbass, you just said you ran the day before..." I suppose that's true. But what about days like today? I didn't do a damn thing yesterday aside from my usual wandering around inside my house and out onto the back deck with the dogs. And today, I'm so bloody exhausted I can barely stand up. And I ache. Every muscle is hot and angry. I feel as though yesterday was a day at the faire, except I'm not still smiling about having a good time like I did on those Mondays and Tuesdays following a faire day.

This is one of the things I hate about it. Feeling good for a few days and then having the next day slam into me like a folding chair thrown by an oiled-up,  overly-steroided-up guy in tights. And this whole thing seems to hit  on days when I have to get up and leave the house. You see, that's what this blog post really is- a procrastination device. If I stay here and write this blog, I don't have to go to the store. Except that I need to go to the store and I will have to anyway when I'm done with this. But, as long as I keep typing, I can stay seated in this chair with the ridiculous wheels on the bottom and rest my wrists on this little neoprene pad with seemingly 3D water droplets on it. And when the disabled guy comes down and says, "I thought you were going to the store" I can say, "I had to write this blog first." And then he'd ask: "It isn't a blog about me, is it?" and I would say, "No, this one is about fibrofuckingmyalgia" and the problem there is that now it is kind of about him, because I just mentioned him.

I'm fully dressed, by the way. I managed to get my jeans on, my shirt, my not-shiny-anymore red Docs. But still, I'm here. Typing and typing. Things ache and I'm hungry. You shouldn't go to the store while you're hungry, but I'm going to anyway. Plus, I keep stopping while typing to look over my shoulder at the TV. There's a marathon of "NCIS" on USA right now. I'm not a huge fan or anything, but you know, it isn't a bad show- as far as these silly shows go.

I don't think I can drag this out much longer. There's a double-edged sword when it comes to fibrofuckingmyalgia. When you're this physically and mentally tired, you need caffeine to get through it. But the caffeine- if you drink too much of it- can exacerbate the fibrofuckingmyalgia symptoms. Is that even a "double-edged sword"? Did I mix up my metaphors? Is that a metaphor? When did this become a grammar lesson? Is this a grammar lesson?

No, this is just a really bad excuse to keep from dragging my significant ass to the store. Although, that ass is less significant than it was before. Seven percent less significant.

Oh, look at that... this suddenly became a bragging blog. And because of that- look what I made yesterday in Photoshop with a photo I took- also yesterday.



Neat, huh? My photo, someone else's quote. I sent her the high-res version so she can get it printed however big she wants it for the school where she works as a librarian.

But yeah, I really hate this fickle stupid disease.