Most days, I can get up and function pretty well around 11am.
This is, of course, after not being able to fall asleep until well after 2am.
Last night, I wasn’t able to fall asleep until after 3am.
I woke up around 9am because the postman knocked on the door (Avon calling…), and got up to get the packages(!!) and try on some of the things I bought.
I took my blood pressure medicine because I figured I was up for the day.
Shortly after, I got dizzy and had to lay down.
I woke up around noon.
I tried to drink and eat some more to try to get my body to wake up, but my stomach wasn’t really havin’ it.
I got dizzy and laid down again.
I just woke up about 20 minutes ago.
I feel like my head is pumped full of air, my eyeballs feel dry and swollen, my muscles all feel weird and sore, and my feet are numb.
This is a “middle of the road” day.
On a “bad” day, I wouldn’t have gotten up to answer the door.
So let me ask you a question: Do you think my disease is fake?
I don’t think I could ever be more pissed off at hypochondriacs and drug-seekers…but I am. Because of them, my doctor gives me Aleve for pain that stopped responding to OTC meds two years ago…that’s why I went to the doctor in the first place.
Because of them, I’ve been treated like a bag of complaints with limbs.
Because I’m educated about my disorder, doctors think I’m researching to see what kind of drugs I can get.
Because I’m female, it must be all in my head.
Because I’m uninsured, I must be trying to take advantage of “the system.” “Taking advantage” costs me at least $150 per visit, kthx.
Because I’m fat, I must be lazy…I’m “just not trying” to be healthy.
Man, fuck all that noise.
I keep holding myself back from talking about the bare bones of fibromyalgia on this blog, because I know there are a LOT of people who think it’s a scam.
Whatever it is I have, fibro fits the bill better than anything else. I’m actually in pain 24/7 – can you imagine what that’s like? To do nothing out of the ordinary, and feel like you’ve been pulled through the wringer? It sucks so hard, y’all.
My quality of life (and thus, the quality of life for my entire household, because I can’t keep up with the messes that two people, two cats, a cockatiel, and a rat create) has fallen dramatically since I got sick. I used to be able to go somewhere at the drop of a hat. Now I have to assess how I feel, what I have to do the next day, and whether one action will affect the other. Cleaning my rat’s cage can give me long-lasting forearm pain. Sometimes it doesn’t affect me at all.
It’s called the Spoon Theory, and it’s so true that it feels silly. I think of it more like measuring spoons/cups. The first tasks of the day are the tablespoons…but if I do them to quickly, or try to do too many in a row without stopping to rest, I forfeit those and move down to the teaspoons. Smaller bits of energy to work with, see? After that, I move down to 1/4 tsp. Sometimes, as today, this depletion happens with one action. Other days, I have spoons left over.
If I use up all of my “spoons” before the end of the day, I have to “borrow” tomorrow’s spoons to be able to do anything else. The reason that metaphor is there is to account for the fact that running out of energy and overdoing it can make you completely worthless the next day.
When you do this too often, as I have been, you have “flares” – then, your spoons are lying out of reach, and you’re absolutely stuck in bed. On these days, it helps to have an understanding husband/wife/friend around to help you do things like walk to the toilet and even bathe.
I’ve been stuck in a somewhat-constant flare for over a month.
So…you tell me: Is it real? Or am I faking?