rabid1st: (cheesygirl)
...like one of the Avengers...not Hawkeye...one of the real superhero ones. :snicker: Sorry, Jenn!(and other Hawkeye lovers) I couldn't resist.

Anyway, my point was...like David Banner's temper, my Fibro strikes suddenly and is monosyllabic.

Today was one of those happy, once in a couple dozen blue moons sort of day when I felt like doing a little chore or two. And I set myself a little chore. I intended to clean off my bathroom countertop and sink. Just put the tubs and bottles in their proper places and wipe stuff off with a little Simple Green and baking soda and DONE!

I did that. And then I thought...since I have the baking soda and Simple Green and sponge and paper towels out...why not also wipe down the kitchen sink.

So, I did that. And while doing that...why not toss a few things in the laundry. Not a full load, just underwear and socks and a stray pillow case or two.

So, I did that.

And then...I thought...why not just wipe the soapy sponge across the range top? Nothing crazy. I realize I'm getting tired. I even told my inner cleaning freak that very thing, when she said something about the floor needing a good mopping. "Another day," I said, while thinking she must be crazy if she thinks I will ever again mop a floor. "I am getting tired," I said. "Just...wipe and rinse and DONE!"

So, I did that. And it looked okay. Except there were a couple of stubborn stains left. And they really stood out now that the rest of the ceramic range top was clean. So, I thought, why not just spray those stubborn stains with a spritz of Simple Green and leave them to soak while I switch the laundry to the dryer...that's not even work, and maybe the stains will just lift off like in those commercials with little blue birds or sassy crows or big bald guys that appear in the kitchen of some overworked cleaning woman on TV?

So, I did that. But the stains didn't lift off. So, I had to scrub a bit. And that's when my own commercial moment happened.

Only instead of a happy little blue bird...I apparently got a Hulk-like troll with a club who sneaked up behind me and SMASH! He clobbered me with pain and exhaustion. "This is what it means to have Fibro," the voiceover lady said. And all of a sudden the room sort of went dark and spinning and I couldn't seem to breathe because OWWWWW! I stumbled in a daze to a place where I could collapse...which, coincidentally, was right here at the computer.

So, here I sit. The dryer is beeping at me in a strident tone every 3 minutes. It expects me to get up and put away the underwear and pillow cases.

But I'm not going to do that.

rabid1st: (Default)

Fibro Fog, we sufferers lose great chunks of our life to a foggy mind, also, we have some humorous adventures. I, for example, decided I could get up in the early morning hours and deliver someone to our big International Airport. I was worried about the airport itself, the signs and parking and cloverleaf street set-up. But I was fairly confident that on my way home I could get something to eat. HA!

Air security being what it is we had to arrive very early for a 12:00 pm flight. We had breakfast at 8:00 am and, avoiding rush hour traffic, drove the hour or so to the airport. I navigated very well for my guest driver. It was an enjoyable trip. Leaving the airport on my own was also remarkably easy. I managed to find my way out of the parking garage, transfer across multiple incoming highways and find my way to the correct inner city street. I had a gift certificate from Christmas for lunch at a specific restaurant chain. When planning my day, I felt that would give me a nice break from airport stress. I had a very clear idea where two of those restaurants were located.

Except, my Yahoo Map was wrong. I knew it was wrong, because Yahoo always gets this one divided street wrong. It says "keep left" when you should "keep right."

"HAHA!" I declared, possibly aloud. "I know you YAHOO MAPS! You cannot fool me."

But for some reason, when I got to that part of the map, I went left anyway. Botheration! Fine. Not a problem. I could easily back track. But, the lunch hour traffic after I'd turned around pushed me into a local college campus. DAMN! But, Okay! FINE! I just looped the college and popped back out where I started. But now I had to find a bathroom. Urgently! And most of the parking has been taken. No time to search for the restaurant, park nearby, walk back, be seated and then go. Luckily, I recalled a pharmacy with good, clean bathrooms a few blocks away. I went there.

Relieved, I back tracked again. Only to find that someone had changed the street signs. No! That my fibro brain wasn't working as well as I thought it was and what I thought was Park Avenue turned out to be University Avenue. I had confused the order of the two parallel streets, Park came first. Yahoo hadn't helped me, because I had simply overshot my right turn. The street I wanted was several blocks behind me. Screw it, I thought. My bladder is in fine shape, I will just go to the restaurant that is closer to my house.

This requires I hop up on the Interstate, but I'm feeling confident. The Interstate does not intimidate me. Traffic, however, is much worse than I imagined. Traffic holds me up for an hour and it is now 2:00 pm. My blood sugar is getting low as I find my exit. But it was another driver that caused me the next bit of trouble. He surges into my lane, forcing me to quickly brake and go into the next lane. No accident. YAY! But unfortunately, I am now trapped in the wrong lane by bumper to bumper cars and drivers who will not give an inch. I figure the congestion will sort itself out in a few blocks. I follow the flow of traffic, only to find my new lane deposits me back on the highway. This time, going the wrong direction. ARRGGH! Also, $%(@@$&0~!

GRRR! FINE! I will just get off at the next exit. I can find any decent place to have a snack, wait out this lunch rush of traffic and then make my way home. Only, the next exit, has construction, which forces me onto another inner city street. My head is now quite foggy. But I recognize the street and figure I can find my way home from here. Wrong. I follow this street for about six miles and finally, I get to where the restaurant I have a gift certificate for is located. I can see it. But it is just beyond a stone dividing wall. No problem. I will go down to the light, hang a U-turn and back track again. I complete the U-Turn, but still end up in the wrong lane and overshoot the restaurant. AGAIN? REALLY? GOOD GRAVY! FINE! I will simply take the next side street, loop behind the restaurant and park. But the next street has a wooded, drainage ditch barrier.

The next, next street...put me back on the highway heading away from home again. SON OF A...

At that point, I gave up on eating. And after the next loop around an off ramp, I just went home.

rabid1st: (Default)
Dear LJ friends;

Rain on Dust is back. http://rainondust.net/ But it isn't a happy place just now.

As you know, over the years I have struggled with the debilitating effects of fibromyalgia and sleep apnea. A little over a year ago, on May 5, 2009, I was sent home from my job because I could no longer work effectively. When an independent doctor confirmed my condition in July 2009, I was "involuntarily resigned." At that point, I was still in denial about the chronic nature of my illness. I hoped to find a doctor or a medicine, some treatment that could help me recover my full strength. I couldn't imagine not working. How would I survive?

However, I did believe I had insurance to cover my basic needs. And I was forced to resign myself to my limitations, because they refuse to go away. I applied immediately for short term disability insurance, of course. But money never came. I learned that my appeal was rolled to long term disability in August 2009 and was "being considered." I also applied for Social Security Disability. I an still in disability limbo. I have lawyers, paid for by my loved ones, and I am waiting for appeals. It could take two and a half more years before I can get a Social Security hearing. It is frightening how these people can stonewall the sick and destitute. I literally have no income and live now on the kindness and generosity of others. And so, I have resorted to this request for help.

Many of you have offered to help over this last year. One of you ignored my protests and paid for my doctor's visits and lawyers fees. You know who you are and I thank you so much. I held out as long as I could against making this mass appeal for donations, because I know times are hard for everyone. But the reality of our society is that we have no social safety net. And now, I do need some assistance.

If any of you can spare a dime...or a tenner...please visit my website (paid for by a dear friend) and I will happily shower you with good karma...or listen to your woes. And hopefully, I will have lots more to offer on the site in the future.

rabid1st: (Default)
Let me tell you why!

Unlike many other conditions, Fibromyalgia is a deceptive disorder. Usually, you feel crappy, but it can leave you, within a few hours of waking, feeling relatively normal. You ache a bit, sure, but doesn't everyone? The problem is that on these relatively normal days, no matter how good your resolve, you tend to do too much. I think I can do something ordinary...which I obviously cannot do...and that leads to trouble. My body and mind are not quite in agreement about just where the line that they shouldn't be crossing is drawn.

A week ago, for example, I had an appointment that was 35 minutes away from my home. I took someone with me as I know from long experience that I would not be able to drive back from the appt, due to pain, stiffness and exhaustion. But, on the WAY to the appointment, I am usually okay. This time, however, my body decided that my doctor was correct and I could only drive 15 minutes. This left me about 20 minutes left to drive when it started cramping up on me. I should have used my mind at this point...and pulled over, but I ignored my body's increasingly painful protests and kept driving. The result was that I spent the next 36 hours or so moving like a woman twice my age, shuffling along as I walked, constantly switching positions to find scant comfort and meeping in faint protest every minute or two. Also, on the very next day, when asked by a doctor why I was moving so slowly...I helpfully answered, "I hurt" instead of fully explaining. Full explanations were a little beyond me at the time, due to my mind now agreeing with my body that I had fibromyalgia.

But my mind was still getting me in trouble, as it decided I could make a music video from my sick bed, reasoning that my left arm and hand were not totally crippled. This further attempt to pretend that I was not chronically ill has led to me being pretty much useless for the last four days...with no end in sight. I tried to visit my sister with painful results. So painful and exhausting in fact that we had to cancel our Memorial Day outing to the park. So, here I sit...in need of a shower but not feeling up to lathering myself. I should at least turn on a light...but I would have to get up for that.

rabid1st: (Default)
I went to the rheumotologist yesterday. He lives in another town, about 25 minutes drive away. My primary care doctor doesn't like me to drive to destinations more than 15 minutes from my house. This means I must take someone with me on longer trips so that they can drive me home. Yes, it does suck. But not as much as being stranded 25 minutes from home because you are unable to drive back.

Most of the time I am sensible about this, even if I am feeling okay. I just let go of my need to control and let the other person drive, because I know that driving hurts me. But yesterday, I was having a good day and got cocky and drove too long and now I am paying the price. Wrenching pain all night long in my lower back and hips and shoulders, along with crushing pain in my feet. The wrenching always reminds me of sharks feeding. You know how Natural Documentary sharks sort of sink their teeth in to a hunk of meat and shake it? It's like that in my shoulders and elbows. But the worst thing is my back which feels like a wrestler has his booted foot in it and is shoving hard. Oof! Oof! Oof! I was in bed until 5:00 pm but even resting was hurting me and my SO was all "You have to eat something", so I got up and tried moving around a bit.

Now, I'm trying whining on the internet while the muscle relaxers kick in. Nothing seems to help though. Morphine? Puhleez.


rabid1st: (Default)

May 2017

 123 456


RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags