Guess which one I am!
You don't have to... I'm the whiny one.
First off, the good-
A friend of mine, "Texas Scott" (his parents named him that, don't judge) has an awesome radio show on Wednesday nights. Its called "Shake Hands with Danger" and it is full of eclectic and amazing music that makes me happy. What's that got to do with fibromyalgia? Well, when I'm happy, I can forget the pain for a little while. 6 PM Central USA time, Wednesday nights.
Shake Hands with Danger on Blogspot
Shake Hands with Danger on Facebook
Shake Hands with Danger's actual link where you can listen
Also good- my dear friend from Australia, Shawn, sent a Christmas parcel. I'm currently jamming to "The Latest and Greatest" from Skyhooks and its several kinds of awesome. Also- Cadbury Snack. (there's another CD, The Very Best of Split Enz).
Aaannnnd I hurt a little less.
Secondly, there isn't any "bad" really. There's a weather change happening and that's got me aching again, so I guess that's the "bad" today.
And the whiny...
I ache today in such a way that my skin feels bruised. I had several good days in a row. No real pain to speak of, it was around a three or four on that useless pain scale. So I had hoped that today would be another one of those days. Sadly, no. My skin- that feels like its bruised- hurts with every move or turn I make. I'm dressed, only because I can't stand to not be dressed, but I'm wearing only a very soft fleece instead of a shirt. (normally, this is an item I wear over a shirt). My jeans, luckily, are just rough-ish enough to keep the skin on my legs from itching so badly I want to scream and claw at myself like a drug addict going through detox. I've already taken a Vicodin today. And we all know how I don't like to do that.
So, the cookies I wanted to bake aren't being baked today. The laundry isn't getting done very quickly. I'm sitting here, hoping the pain will stop, but I know it won't. Its so distracting today that it took me hours to edit through thirty-six photos that I took of my friend and her family yesterday. I had to do a few at a time, then stop. Then do a few more... and so on.
Today is one of those days where all I want is a hug, but I know its going to hurt if someone touches me. Of course, it isn't like I'm going to get anyone to hug me anyway, so that point is moot. So, here I sit, enjoying my Christmas presents from Shawn, hoping that the Cadbury will magically whisk the pain away and jamming to the Skyhooks. The latest and greatest, in fact.
Oh, on top of the "weather change being bad" thing, we've got heavy cloud cover because we're supposed to get a bit of snow, followed by freezing rain, followed by snow again. That means I'm going to miss out on the Winter Solstice Lunar Eclipse. The photographer in me is disappointed and the pagan that I am says "we can enjoy it anyway".
Monday, December 20, 2010
Monday, December 13, 2010
Because of Chris...
In October, one of my friends passed away. His name is Chris. He lived in England and we never met in person. But we shared many things in common and one of those things was photography. Despite being online, he liked his privacy and we never talked about being friends on the message board where we met. Our friendship was private and none of anyone else's business.
When I was recovering from my knee replacement, he sent me English Cadbury. Loads of it. I'm convinced that English and Australian Cadbury has healing powers. His parcel came while I was still in the hospital. I made the kids bring it to me.
Anyway, while I was recovering, I told him that my goal was to get well enough to go downtown and take photos of the historic area of this town, for him. He always had amazing photos of castles and other scenic places in England and from the road trips he took to other countries. The little town I live in doesn't offer much in the way of scenery and my photography is limited to the "fine art" variety, mostly in macro (closeup) and mostly nature-related.
I did go to a place in Illinois that has a castle, back in October, over my birthday weekend. Chris never got to see those photos. By the time I had them uploaded to share, he was in the hospital. He passed away a short time later.
Over the weekend, (December 11th and 12th) we had a huge storm sweep across the Midwest. It dumped a couple of feet of snow up north- even caused the roof of the Minnesota Vikings football stadium to collapse. By the time it hit us, it didn't dump a lot of snow, but it brought bitter cold and 40 MPH gusting winds. Sunday afternoon, the sun came out and right before sunset, I threw dinner in the oven and headed out to a school at the edge of town. Its on a hill and surrounded by open cornfields.
When I reached the car park of the school, it wasn't quite sunset. So I put the camera in macro mode and took some shots of the frozen branches with the orange-sunset light reflecting off the ice. When the wind would gust, I'd turn my back to it and hold my camera close to wait it out.
What's all this got to do with my friend?
Well, as I was trudging through the snow drifts to get close to the branches, trees, and formerly landscaped shrubs, I thought about him and it made me chuckle. I was standing, knee-deep, in snow drifts, with my human knee and the "cyborg" knee, contorting myself at weird angles to get the shot... and all I could think of was Chris seeing those photos and saying, "Good on ya!" or even something ridiculous involving an inside joke we had about my "Cyborg Alien overlords" and how pleased they'd be with my progress. Another thing we had in common- dry humor. Chris had the greatest sense of humor.
I know its a little silly- but along with the smile I had from the thought of my friend (who was the human liaison between the Cyborg Alien overlords), I realized that I was standing there, for over a half hour in the bitter cold, and I wasn't in any extra pain. My gloves failed massively in their job at keeping my hands warm and by the time I got back into my still-running heated truck, Raynaud's Syndrome (one of the things Chris and I had in common) was rearing its ugly head. But my fibro wasn't killing me and I felt pretty good.
And I still miss my friend.
Since I've been going on about the photos, I'm going to share them with you here...
I think this is my favorite shot from the macros-
This isn't a macro, I just stood back and zoomed in because I like how the sunlight looked on the ice.
The sunset- (I took loads more of the sunset, these are just a couple)
And to show how hard the wind was, here's a shot of the snow blowing across the road on my way to the school.
When I was recovering from my knee replacement, he sent me English Cadbury. Loads of it. I'm convinced that English and Australian Cadbury has healing powers. His parcel came while I was still in the hospital. I made the kids bring it to me.
Anyway, while I was recovering, I told him that my goal was to get well enough to go downtown and take photos of the historic area of this town, for him. He always had amazing photos of castles and other scenic places in England and from the road trips he took to other countries. The little town I live in doesn't offer much in the way of scenery and my photography is limited to the "fine art" variety, mostly in macro (closeup) and mostly nature-related.
I did go to a place in Illinois that has a castle, back in October, over my birthday weekend. Chris never got to see those photos. By the time I had them uploaded to share, he was in the hospital. He passed away a short time later.
Over the weekend, (December 11th and 12th) we had a huge storm sweep across the Midwest. It dumped a couple of feet of snow up north- even caused the roof of the Minnesota Vikings football stadium to collapse. By the time it hit us, it didn't dump a lot of snow, but it brought bitter cold and 40 MPH gusting winds. Sunday afternoon, the sun came out and right before sunset, I threw dinner in the oven and headed out to a school at the edge of town. Its on a hill and surrounded by open cornfields.
When I reached the car park of the school, it wasn't quite sunset. So I put the camera in macro mode and took some shots of the frozen branches with the orange-sunset light reflecting off the ice. When the wind would gust, I'd turn my back to it and hold my camera close to wait it out.
What's all this got to do with my friend?
Well, as I was trudging through the snow drifts to get close to the branches, trees, and formerly landscaped shrubs, I thought about him and it made me chuckle. I was standing, knee-deep, in snow drifts, with my human knee and the "cyborg" knee, contorting myself at weird angles to get the shot... and all I could think of was Chris seeing those photos and saying, "Good on ya!" or even something ridiculous involving an inside joke we had about my "Cyborg Alien overlords" and how pleased they'd be with my progress. Another thing we had in common- dry humor. Chris had the greatest sense of humor.
I know its a little silly- but along with the smile I had from the thought of my friend (who was the human liaison between the Cyborg Alien overlords), I realized that I was standing there, for over a half hour in the bitter cold, and I wasn't in any extra pain. My gloves failed massively in their job at keeping my hands warm and by the time I got back into my still-running heated truck, Raynaud's Syndrome (one of the things Chris and I had in common) was rearing its ugly head. But my fibro wasn't killing me and I felt pretty good.
And I still miss my friend.
Since I've been going on about the photos, I'm going to share them with you here...
I think this is my favorite shot from the macros-
This isn't a macro, I just stood back and zoomed in because I like how the sunlight looked on the ice.
The sunset- (I took loads more of the sunset, these are just a couple)
And to show how hard the wind was, here's a shot of the snow blowing across the road on my way to the school.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
It snowed this weekend...
And it was fantastic! Beautiful, great photographic opportunities, wonderful! I was thrilled. It has even offered up a chance for me to do an updated version of my yearly "idiot drivers in the snow" rant on my other blog.
Except that since Friday (as I type this, its Sunday), my hands have ached. Ached is the general way to describe it, but along with the literal all-over ache, I've had sharp stabbing pains in various places. My right wrist is where a burning, gravelly pain is radiating from most of the time. I wear a brace at night, every night, on that wrist. The pain alternately shoots down my fingers and from that little jolt, my finger joints feel like they're burning for long moments after.
The general ache feels as if my hands were rapped soundly with a large hammer. No real pain in the sense I can't do anything, but so achy that I can't rub my hands to make them feel better (like it does when I have an arthritis flare-up). I grasp one hand with the other and it just causes more pain. The ache is like a large bruise.
That seems to be the overall "normal" thing to this fibro pain. Everything aches. Like a bruise. Like I've fallen off the horse. Been soundly rapped with a hammer.
I don't remember if I mentioned it (and I'm not going to check now), but I started doing a self-portrait project in February. 365 Days of self-portraits. I'm up to day 295 today. I haven't missed one yet. I didn't think I'd keep going this long, but hey, here I am. Today's attempt was to hold out my hand and try to get a shot of a water droplet landing in my palm. After about ten minutes of standing outside (in the 23° Fahrenheit cold), my hand was soaked, I'd taken maybe thirty shots and didn't get a single keeper. I dried off my hand on my wool peacoat and tried to come up with something else.
I figured since my hand was already cold, I'd just stick it into the snow and get a photo of it covered in snow. I took three shots before I realized I needed to change my camera setting, then had to dip my hand in the snow again. By then, my hand was numb. It was so cold that I lost feeling. I chuckled to myself over that, because it took the snow to take the pain out of my hand. I stopped chuckling the instant I tried to move my fingers. They had stiffened so much I couldn't bend them. I grew up in Alaska, I know what to do if this happens (which usually is by accident, not for a photographic opportunity). I ran cool water over my hand till I could move it.
What followed was that hot-skin pain for a long time. I don't know how long that lasted because I didn't time it. Now my skin is a bit sore (its been hours now) but my hand no longer hurts. My right hand still does. The right one still has that all-over hammered ache.
I'm tempted to stick my hand in the snow again when I go outside with the dogs this evening.
Oh, and for your enjoyment, the photos I got today.
Day 295 of 365.
Water droplets (after these shots, I tried to catch them).
I'd say the pain and cold were worth it. Just like the other day when I sprawled out, face-down on my deck, to get the other photos.
Except that since Friday (as I type this, its Sunday), my hands have ached. Ached is the general way to describe it, but along with the literal all-over ache, I've had sharp stabbing pains in various places. My right wrist is where a burning, gravelly pain is radiating from most of the time. I wear a brace at night, every night, on that wrist. The pain alternately shoots down my fingers and from that little jolt, my finger joints feel like they're burning for long moments after.
The general ache feels as if my hands were rapped soundly with a large hammer. No real pain in the sense I can't do anything, but so achy that I can't rub my hands to make them feel better (like it does when I have an arthritis flare-up). I grasp one hand with the other and it just causes more pain. The ache is like a large bruise.
That seems to be the overall "normal" thing to this fibro pain. Everything aches. Like a bruise. Like I've fallen off the horse. Been soundly rapped with a hammer.
I don't remember if I mentioned it (and I'm not going to check now), but I started doing a self-portrait project in February. 365 Days of self-portraits. I'm up to day 295 today. I haven't missed one yet. I didn't think I'd keep going this long, but hey, here I am. Today's attempt was to hold out my hand and try to get a shot of a water droplet landing in my palm. After about ten minutes of standing outside (in the 23° Fahrenheit cold), my hand was soaked, I'd taken maybe thirty shots and didn't get a single keeper. I dried off my hand on my wool peacoat and tried to come up with something else.
I figured since my hand was already cold, I'd just stick it into the snow and get a photo of it covered in snow. I took three shots before I realized I needed to change my camera setting, then had to dip my hand in the snow again. By then, my hand was numb. It was so cold that I lost feeling. I chuckled to myself over that, because it took the snow to take the pain out of my hand. I stopped chuckling the instant I tried to move my fingers. They had stiffened so much I couldn't bend them. I grew up in Alaska, I know what to do if this happens (which usually is by accident, not for a photographic opportunity). I ran cool water over my hand till I could move it.
What followed was that hot-skin pain for a long time. I don't know how long that lasted because I didn't time it. Now my skin is a bit sore (its been hours now) but my hand no longer hurts. My right hand still does. The right one still has that all-over hammered ache.
I'm tempted to stick my hand in the snow again when I go outside with the dogs this evening.
Oh, and for your enjoyment, the photos I got today.
Day 295 of 365.
Water droplets (after these shots, I tried to catch them).
I'd say the pain and cold were worth it. Just like the other day when I sprawled out, face-down on my deck, to get the other photos.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Sometimes, I do things to myself.
Each month, I have to call an automated phone number, punch in some numbers, punch in my RX#, and I hear one of three things:
1. That prescription is [robot voice]REFILLABLE[/robot voice]. Please allow ten days for delivery.
2. That prescription has [robot voice]EXPIRED[/robot voice]. Press One to request a new order.
3. That prescription is due to be refilled on [robot voice recites date]. Please allow ten days for delivery.
I called in my monthly Vicodin refill and I heard option one.
Ten days comes and goes, but hey, that's okay. I always call two weeks in advance. Then I'm down to three days of Vicodin. So, I cut my dose back by a half-pill (I take two pills at night). Then... Sunday... I ran out. I waited till Tuesday to call the VA because I was hoping it would come in the mail Monday. The VA automated system didn't record my refill request. So, now I'm stuck waiting till next week for my refill of pain meds.
Luckily, the muscle relaxers I'm on keep me from totally tweaking out with withdrawal symptoms.
Today, I had a great idea for some photos. I've done similar photos that I call "Beautifully Broken" where I lay face-down on my deck and take macro shots of flower blooms. And they usually look fantastic. (today was no different, my end result was fantastic). But, It was snowing today. Not much, a lot of little flakes, but they were mostly blowing around in the wind. And it was about 23 degrees Fahrenheit out. I don't know what the wind chill was, but it was windy too.
I was laying on my belly on the damp deck (I swept it clear of snow), wearing three layers (shirt, hoodie, jacket) and taking my photos. When my fingers were so cold I could barely stand it, I decided to go in. (according to my Facebook status, I'd been outside around twenty minutes). I had to roll to my back, sit up, hold onto the deck railing and then stand up. Easier said than done. The damp cold seeped into my muscles and caused them to stiffen.
I finally got to my feet and picked up my supplies (the flowers, the camera, the broom) and then I couldn't go up the steps. I ended up having to slide the flowers (they were in a plastic tray) with the broom along the upper deck. I put the camera in my pocket and then used both hands to pull myself up the steps.
In the time it took me to get inside and update my Facebook status, my muscles were so stiff that I couldn't turn my head. I don't know which friend used it first, but its called "Batman neck".
And no Vicodin.
I took a muscle relaxer at six PM (Vicodin time). It didn't do much for the muscle tightness or the pain. (well, duh, it isn't a pain reliever). Three hours had passed since I came back inside. At 730 PM, I took another. And finally, at 830, I felt some relief.
This pain I'm in... I did it to myself. But the end result was worth it. ~Clicky-click~ Today's work starts near the bottom, the roses. Those aren't the only photos from today, but they're the only ones I'm making visible for now.
1. That prescription is [robot voice]REFILLABLE[/robot voice]. Please allow ten days for delivery.
2. That prescription has [robot voice]EXPIRED[/robot voice]. Press One to request a new order.
3. That prescription is due to be refilled on [robot voice recites date]. Please allow ten days for delivery.
I called in my monthly Vicodin refill and I heard option one.
Ten days comes and goes, but hey, that's okay. I always call two weeks in advance. Then I'm down to three days of Vicodin. So, I cut my dose back by a half-pill (I take two pills at night). Then... Sunday... I ran out. I waited till Tuesday to call the VA because I was hoping it would come in the mail Monday. The VA automated system didn't record my refill request. So, now I'm stuck waiting till next week for my refill of pain meds.
Luckily, the muscle relaxers I'm on keep me from totally tweaking out with withdrawal symptoms.
Today, I had a great idea for some photos. I've done similar photos that I call "Beautifully Broken" where I lay face-down on my deck and take macro shots of flower blooms. And they usually look fantastic. (today was no different, my end result was fantastic). But, It was snowing today. Not much, a lot of little flakes, but they were mostly blowing around in the wind. And it was about 23 degrees Fahrenheit out. I don't know what the wind chill was, but it was windy too.
I was laying on my belly on the damp deck (I swept it clear of snow), wearing three layers (shirt, hoodie, jacket) and taking my photos. When my fingers were so cold I could barely stand it, I decided to go in. (according to my Facebook status, I'd been outside around twenty minutes). I had to roll to my back, sit up, hold onto the deck railing and then stand up. Easier said than done. The damp cold seeped into my muscles and caused them to stiffen.
I finally got to my feet and picked up my supplies (the flowers, the camera, the broom) and then I couldn't go up the steps. I ended up having to slide the flowers (they were in a plastic tray) with the broom along the upper deck. I put the camera in my pocket and then used both hands to pull myself up the steps.
In the time it took me to get inside and update my Facebook status, my muscles were so stiff that I couldn't turn my head. I don't know which friend used it first, but its called "Batman neck".
And no Vicodin.
I took a muscle relaxer at six PM (Vicodin time). It didn't do much for the muscle tightness or the pain. (well, duh, it isn't a pain reliever). Three hours had passed since I came back inside. At 730 PM, I took another. And finally, at 830, I felt some relief.
This pain I'm in... I did it to myself. But the end result was worth it. ~Clicky-click~ Today's work starts near the bottom, the roses. Those aren't the only photos from today, but they're the only ones I'm making visible for now.
Monday, November 22, 2010
The Ever-Changing World of Weather
Oh, how it wreaks havoc upon my body. The humidity, the heat, it makes me wish I could scrape off my skin or dig out the pain in my joints.
Let me throw this out there, before I get started and spiral into full-on rant mode. The spouse- aka the Disabled Guy- has said in the past that he thinks I'm exaggerating my pain. I am not. I'm just more vocal about my pain now that we know it has a name. I've been paying more attention to the pain, the weather, the connection between the two. I've also been more outspoken about what it does to me and how it feels. There's no reason other than to try and garner a little bit of sympathy from those around me. But it isn't working.
A lot of people are lucky, they have an amazing support network of actual living humans who are or are not related to them. They care about them, are concerned for them. I do not. My parents don't live with me, so they don't see me on those days when I'm my worst. They know about them, but they rarely see it happen. Plus my mother has her own very real and visible health problems to deal with and quite honestly, I don't need to burden her with mine.
My main source of support comes from online friends- most of whom I've never met in person- who are either suffering the same fate as I am, or they have pain issues of their own that are different. I also have some who have no major health issues, but they care about me- again, some I have met, some I have not. And while its nice to know that they're there, I don't want to spend my time whinging on to them about how much I hurt or itch or whatever this stupid thing throws at me on any given day.
And that's where the weather comes into play.
You know the incredibly annoying saying- its said no matter where you live- "If ya don't like the weather here in [insert place], just wait ten minutes! HAR HAR HAR!!"
Yes. Hilarious.
I only say that sentence out loud with heavy sarcasm or incredible irony.
Last week, we were having typical Autumn in Wisconsin weather (I live in Southern Wisconsin, for those not in the know). Nights were in the 20s or 30s (Fahrenheit, my metric friends) and the days were in the 40s. Sometimes the wind chill brought down the daytime temps, but hey, it was at least dry. And I could feel it over the last few days. I could feel the weather changing. I knew it was coming.
Along with the all-over flu-like feeling, I had the itchy skin and various points on my body hurt like arthritis. I have thought for years that it was arthritis, but it might not be- it may just be what is referred to as a "fibro hot spot". Last night, I took my Vicodin at my usual time, followed by my muscle relaxer an hour and a half later. It wasn't till about an hour after I took the muscle relaxer that I started to feel any kind of relief. Which to me equals less likely arthritis pain, more likely fibro hot spot.
Today's high- 60 degrees Fahrenheit. Humidity is at 98%. I start feeling the humidity in my skin around 50%. So you can imagine how I feel right now. And if you can't, here's an analogy.
I want to scrape off my skin with a potato peeler and rub sandpaper on my muscles underneath. I'm running low on Vicodin- thanks to the VA hospital's refill policies- so I'm trying not to take any in the daytime till the refill arrives. I may cave in though, because the potato-peeler option is a little messy and I'm not sure the disabled guy would give me sandpaper. And the pain that is radiating from my right hand and my feet- well, I would like to take an ice pick to those joints and give them a thorough rub down with sandpaper too. Again, it sounds messy.
The weather is supposed to change tomorrow and be back down in the 30s. I can only hope so.
On a side note, a friend of mine (one of the online ones I've never met in person, but we've spoken on the phone) started a message board for support. We're not medical people and we offer no medical advice, but its a place to go and vent and rage and cry. And get support from people. She calls it Strength With Pain and she's made me an admin. I'm "Pahz" over there and she's "kcmc". If you're in pain, you have friends there. If you're not in pain, then you can come be a friend.
Let me throw this out there, before I get started and spiral into full-on rant mode. The spouse- aka the Disabled Guy- has said in the past that he thinks I'm exaggerating my pain. I am not. I'm just more vocal about my pain now that we know it has a name. I've been paying more attention to the pain, the weather, the connection between the two. I've also been more outspoken about what it does to me and how it feels. There's no reason other than to try and garner a little bit of sympathy from those around me. But it isn't working.
A lot of people are lucky, they have an amazing support network of actual living humans who are or are not related to them. They care about them, are concerned for them. I do not. My parents don't live with me, so they don't see me on those days when I'm my worst. They know about them, but they rarely see it happen. Plus my mother has her own very real and visible health problems to deal with and quite honestly, I don't need to burden her with mine.
My main source of support comes from online friends- most of whom I've never met in person- who are either suffering the same fate as I am, or they have pain issues of their own that are different. I also have some who have no major health issues, but they care about me- again, some I have met, some I have not. And while its nice to know that they're there, I don't want to spend my time whinging on to them about how much I hurt or itch or whatever this stupid thing throws at me on any given day.
And that's where the weather comes into play.
You know the incredibly annoying saying- its said no matter where you live- "If ya don't like the weather here in [insert place], just wait ten minutes! HAR HAR HAR!!"
Yes. Hilarious.
I only say that sentence out loud with heavy sarcasm or incredible irony.
Last week, we were having typical Autumn in Wisconsin weather (I live in Southern Wisconsin, for those not in the know). Nights were in the 20s or 30s (Fahrenheit, my metric friends) and the days were in the 40s. Sometimes the wind chill brought down the daytime temps, but hey, it was at least dry. And I could feel it over the last few days. I could feel the weather changing. I knew it was coming.
Along with the all-over flu-like feeling, I had the itchy skin and various points on my body hurt like arthritis. I have thought for years that it was arthritis, but it might not be- it may just be what is referred to as a "fibro hot spot". Last night, I took my Vicodin at my usual time, followed by my muscle relaxer an hour and a half later. It wasn't till about an hour after I took the muscle relaxer that I started to feel any kind of relief. Which to me equals less likely arthritis pain, more likely fibro hot spot.
Today's high- 60 degrees Fahrenheit. Humidity is at 98%. I start feeling the humidity in my skin around 50%. So you can imagine how I feel right now. And if you can't, here's an analogy.
I want to scrape off my skin with a potato peeler and rub sandpaper on my muscles underneath. I'm running low on Vicodin- thanks to the VA hospital's refill policies- so I'm trying not to take any in the daytime till the refill arrives. I may cave in though, because the potato-peeler option is a little messy and I'm not sure the disabled guy would give me sandpaper. And the pain that is radiating from my right hand and my feet- well, I would like to take an ice pick to those joints and give them a thorough rub down with sandpaper too. Again, it sounds messy.
The weather is supposed to change tomorrow and be back down in the 30s. I can only hope so.
On a side note, a friend of mine (one of the online ones I've never met in person, but we've spoken on the phone) started a message board for support. We're not medical people and we offer no medical advice, but its a place to go and vent and rage and cry. And get support from people. She calls it Strength With Pain and she's made me an admin. I'm "Pahz" over there and she's "kcmc". If you're in pain, you have friends there. If you're not in pain, then you can come be a friend.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
"Hmm, I need to blog about this..." ... "Interesting... I should share this on the fibro blog..."
Aaaand, then I forget. I get busy or distracted by something shiny. I intended on keeping track of things through this blog as a way of being able to look back on this or to help others realize they're not alone. That's a huge thing, by the way, not feeling like you're alone. I live in a house with people who do not give a damn how much I hurt from day to day or if my fingers are numb and tingly (they are today, by the way). And now and then, seeing that someone else has this very same problem... it feels good to know. It was a relief, that day, in the VA hospital when my doctor said, "You have all the classic signs..." I couldn't believe it. I kept waiting for a "but..." and she never said it. She just reiterated that I was, indeed, suffering from fibromyalgia.
Today sucks for two reasons. The spouse and the son came home on Wednesday night. And I haven't slept good since. When I sleep, I rarely move from my little bubble of space, even when I'm alone in the bed. It comes from almost thirteen years of sleeping next to a disabled person. (You're thinking to yourself that we're closing in on sixteen years of disability and how is it I've only spent thirteen sleeping next to him. I'll tell you: the first year, he slept on our hide-a-bed because he couldn't get out of our full-wave water bed. The second year, I worked nights and the one or two nights I was home, I ended up sleeping mostly in the La-Z-boy recliner. The third year was the year he decided to leave us. But he came back and here we are). With him in the bed, well, he's a bed hog. And a blanket fiend. He also pushes me in his sleep and snores- no joke- as loud as a lawnmower. His snoring has damaged my hearing (not hyperbole, but actual fact).
The second reason is all my fault. I haven't had the energy to put on shoes for two days in a row. I'm just bloody tired. I'm worn out and I have to keep doing stuff and mustering the energy to put on my shoes isn't a priority. Of course, every time I stand up, it just about kills me. My own damn fault.
Today, my body feels like its been pressed through one of those old-fashioned clothes-wringer thingies you see in movies. I feel like every muscle has been pulled tight, rolled flat, then left to slide back into place under its own tension. Except for the fact it hasn't slid back yet and still feels like its pulled tight. And I slept wrong on my right arm and you tack on that "I slept on it wrong" pain, then you have my day.
While the Disabled Guy was gone (for five long weeks), he texted me almost constantly. He said he'd try to be more caring or more attentive. I mean, after all, I have a real disease, diagnosed by a real doctor. I take medicine for it. Its kind of hard to deny that it exists, right? Well, for you maybe. For me, definitely. For him? Not so much.
It took him all of... well, less than a day to go back to his usual responses. Which are either: Ignore her while she speaks and maybe she'll shut up; or pretend to listen and then say in monotone, "Yeah" or "you'll be okay."
On a lighter note, today is Halloween. Blessed Samhain to you who know what that is.
Because of a book called Drop Dead Gorgeous by Wayne Simmons (set for re-release in early 2011, get a copy!), I decided to "zombie it up" for this year's Halloween. Then I ran the photos through my Photoshop lomography technique. And then I added a layer of red to the eyes and I came up with this:
That's all done with eyeshadow and store-bought fake blood. I used green and blue eyeshadow on my face, black around my eyes, and "black cherry" lipstick. All of my Halloween-themed photos can be seen here on my Flickr.
Thanks for reading.
Today sucks for two reasons. The spouse and the son came home on Wednesday night. And I haven't slept good since. When I sleep, I rarely move from my little bubble of space, even when I'm alone in the bed. It comes from almost thirteen years of sleeping next to a disabled person. (You're thinking to yourself that we're closing in on sixteen years of disability and how is it I've only spent thirteen sleeping next to him. I'll tell you: the first year, he slept on our hide-a-bed because he couldn't get out of our full-wave water bed. The second year, I worked nights and the one or two nights I was home, I ended up sleeping mostly in the La-Z-boy recliner. The third year was the year he decided to leave us. But he came back and here we are). With him in the bed, well, he's a bed hog. And a blanket fiend. He also pushes me in his sleep and snores- no joke- as loud as a lawnmower. His snoring has damaged my hearing (not hyperbole, but actual fact).
The second reason is all my fault. I haven't had the energy to put on shoes for two days in a row. I'm just bloody tired. I'm worn out and I have to keep doing stuff and mustering the energy to put on my shoes isn't a priority. Of course, every time I stand up, it just about kills me. My own damn fault.
Today, my body feels like its been pressed through one of those old-fashioned clothes-wringer thingies you see in movies. I feel like every muscle has been pulled tight, rolled flat, then left to slide back into place under its own tension. Except for the fact it hasn't slid back yet and still feels like its pulled tight. And I slept wrong on my right arm and you tack on that "I slept on it wrong" pain, then you have my day.
While the Disabled Guy was gone (for five long weeks), he texted me almost constantly. He said he'd try to be more caring or more attentive. I mean, after all, I have a real disease, diagnosed by a real doctor. I take medicine for it. Its kind of hard to deny that it exists, right? Well, for you maybe. For me, definitely. For him? Not so much.
It took him all of... well, less than a day to go back to his usual responses. Which are either: Ignore her while she speaks and maybe she'll shut up; or pretend to listen and then say in monotone, "Yeah" or "you'll be okay."
On a lighter note, today is Halloween. Blessed Samhain to you who know what that is.
Because of a book called Drop Dead Gorgeous by Wayne Simmons (set for re-release in early 2011, get a copy!), I decided to "zombie it up" for this year's Halloween. Then I ran the photos through my Photoshop lomography technique. And then I added a layer of red to the eyes and I came up with this:
That's all done with eyeshadow and store-bought fake blood. I used green and blue eyeshadow on my face, black around my eyes, and "black cherry" lipstick. All of my Halloween-themed photos can be seen here on my Flickr.
Thanks for reading.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
I survived a week without Vicodin
Not by choice, mind you, not by choice. Each month, when I get to about two weeks left of pills, I call the automated number and request a refill. Usually the automated voice tells me to "allow ten to fourteen days for delivery"... and once in a while, it will say: "This prescription has expired, press one now to request a renewal" so I press one. About two years ago, there was a fiasco with the automated thing and I didn't get a refill of my Hydrochlorothiazadide. That's a water pill for my edema. When I finally got in to see a doctor- who was not my regular doctor- I got a thirty day supply (I usually get a ninety day supply) and when I got home, the regular refill was there.
Well, my Vicodin ran out. A week ago Wednesday, I asked- because I was there and the computer said it was "processing". That's good... because that means I should get it soon. Well, it turns out that I was lower on my supply than I thought and I took my very last Vicodin pill (which is one-third of what I usually take at night) last Thursday night. But, I'd been lowering my dose over the course of two weeks- just in case something like this happened.
And I've been doing okay. The Cyclobenzaprine has been helping me sleep- so that's good. I've been surviving during the day, too. I even did a day and a half at the Stronghold Olde English Faire (pics below). The whole "daytime without Vicodin" has been okay, till the last couple of days. But the nights first- er, more like the mornings. The roughest part of the day is when I wake up. Every muscle in my body feels as if it has tightened like a body-builder lifting dead weight. It takes me a good three minutes to actually get moving. I flex and relax my muscles as much as I can before I try to sit up. When I take Vicodin at night, it makes the mornings just ever-so-slightly easier.
Then, there's the last couple of days. The itchy skin came back. Well, it never really went anywhere, its always here, otherwise I'd look pretty freaky out at the Wal-Mart without my skin. The last two days or so, I've been itchy and unable to do anything. Even the Australian Panadol- which works so well on headaches and sprains- didn't do anything for my itching. On top of the itching, I also have the fatigue. Tired. So very tired. Every single day since a week ago Wednesday, I've had to go somewhere and do something. Granted, the two days at faire were of my own choice, but still. Even today- the day I thought I could just lie around and be a blob- I have an orchestra meeting. Plus I finally had to do the laundry- the ren faire laundry. No! I didn't take my clothes out and beat them on a rock and I didn't have Timothy Olyphant's abs around to use... but that's probably an overshare into the dark places of my psyche. What? You don't think Timothy Olyphant is hot? Well, you're probably a straight guy then. Not that there's anything wrong with being a straight male!
Wait, what was I talking about? I got distracted by Mr. Olyphant's abdominals. Oh, ren faire garb laundry. Its heavy and I have to hang it out to dry. Not because its so delicate or anything, but because its not cheap and I don't want to ruin it in my clothes dryer. Now its done and ready to go back into its Rubbermaid container till next May.
So, now I know I can live without Vicodin, but I also know that its a necessary evil in my life. I hope it gets here soon, because this hurting all the time is starting to get on my nerves. And the whole itchy skin thing, that's already on my nerves.
I promised you some ren faire photos- here they are. Stronghold Olde English Faire, in Oregon, IL.
I've been told I have a "good eye" when it comes to taking photos. I specialize (if you can call it that) in macro (close-up) and nature photography. So, while at faire, I got really close to things. And the living things I took macro shots of- don't worry, I asked for permission first. I've also discovered that my style of photography isn't for everyone. Not everyone gets the point of the macro and the abstract. But that's okay. It doesn't bother me. Enjoy the photos.
Well, my Vicodin ran out. A week ago Wednesday, I asked- because I was there and the computer said it was "processing". That's good... because that means I should get it soon. Well, it turns out that I was lower on my supply than I thought and I took my very last Vicodin pill (which is one-third of what I usually take at night) last Thursday night. But, I'd been lowering my dose over the course of two weeks- just in case something like this happened.
And I've been doing okay. The Cyclobenzaprine has been helping me sleep- so that's good. I've been surviving during the day, too. I even did a day and a half at the Stronghold Olde English Faire (pics below). The whole "daytime without Vicodin" has been okay, till the last couple of days. But the nights first- er, more like the mornings. The roughest part of the day is when I wake up. Every muscle in my body feels as if it has tightened like a body-builder lifting dead weight. It takes me a good three minutes to actually get moving. I flex and relax my muscles as much as I can before I try to sit up. When I take Vicodin at night, it makes the mornings just ever-so-slightly easier.
Then, there's the last couple of days. The itchy skin came back. Well, it never really went anywhere, its always here, otherwise I'd look pretty freaky out at the Wal-Mart without my skin. The last two days or so, I've been itchy and unable to do anything. Even the Australian Panadol- which works so well on headaches and sprains- didn't do anything for my itching. On top of the itching, I also have the fatigue. Tired. So very tired. Every single day since a week ago Wednesday, I've had to go somewhere and do something. Granted, the two days at faire were of my own choice, but still. Even today- the day I thought I could just lie around and be a blob- I have an orchestra meeting. Plus I finally had to do the laundry- the ren faire laundry. No! I didn't take my clothes out and beat them on a rock and I didn't have Timothy Olyphant's abs around to use... but that's probably an overshare into the dark places of my psyche. What? You don't think Timothy Olyphant is hot? Well, you're probably a straight guy then. Not that there's anything wrong with being a straight male!
Wait, what was I talking about? I got distracted by Mr. Olyphant's abdominals. Oh, ren faire garb laundry. Its heavy and I have to hang it out to dry. Not because its so delicate or anything, but because its not cheap and I don't want to ruin it in my clothes dryer. Now its done and ready to go back into its Rubbermaid container till next May.
So, now I know I can live without Vicodin, but I also know that its a necessary evil in my life. I hope it gets here soon, because this hurting all the time is starting to get on my nerves. And the whole itchy skin thing, that's already on my nerves.
I promised you some ren faire photos- here they are. Stronghold Olde English Faire, in Oregon, IL.
I've been told I have a "good eye" when it comes to taking photos. I specialize (if you can call it that) in macro (close-up) and nature photography. So, while at faire, I got really close to things. And the living things I took macro shots of- don't worry, I asked for permission first. I've also discovered that my style of photography isn't for everyone. Not everyone gets the point of the macro and the abstract. But that's okay. It doesn't bother me. Enjoy the photos.
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