Since my last post on invisible pain, I thought I would update you with the delight of what further has been going on with me. Yawn you may say, but this is my blog and I want to share with you the life of a person who has a problem no-one can see. You may look at people with Fibromyalgia (what my doc says I have) and think, jeez what a complaining bunch of nancys, why don’t they just take a hike and stop complaining. I am not going to update you with boring facts, but enlighten you on what top ten things we find difficult, or say I do. It varies from person to person; it’s a tricky little fecker that likes to mess you about endlessly.
So here are the top ten things we have to put up with (fellow Fibro pals, do comment if you agree, it’s always nice to know I am not going mad):
I love heels like I was born wearing them, they make me feel sexy! Heels have the ability to change an outfit from the mundane to the magnificent. Now these days, I barely can wear them without feeling a truck has hit me the next day, more than a few hours in and my knees turn to jelly, they feel like they want to melt like it’s a hot summers day. I still try to wear heels when I can, but slowly the pain is just beginning to wear me down. My sexy heels no longer make me feel sexy, but tired and so sore I want to chop my legs off and use them as crutches. It makes me sad, considering I’m a small girl anyway, heels gave me a confidence; sad but true. Now I have to find my confidence in a pair of flats. Flats with a nice dress on a night out, the inner me screams with horror, but in reality I just need to accept; heels are my past and flats are my future. The more I wear heels the more I look like Bambi on ice, I wobble more than ever and concentrating on the pain on a night is time-consuming. I still haven’t given my heels up just yet, but any day soon I will relinquish them and say, ‘C’est la vie.’
I love a drink, I love a nice Southern Comfort on the rocks, I like a Pimms on a hot summer’s day, I enjoy a nice glass of wine after a hard day at work, it relaxes me and I enjoy the social aspect to it. To me alcohol isn’t about getting so wasted you puke on yourself (though it has happened) it’s about enjoying the tipple, but my intolerance to alcohol has plummeted to the point I whiff it and I nearly keel over. I’m not a heavy drinker but I like it and Fibro is messing up my social drinking escapades. I now have to at least drink half the amount I use to which basically means 1 glass of wine and I’m on my way to merry. At first I thought it was part of getting older, but alcohol wrecks me for days. The next day my body is so weak I feel like a rag dog, like I’m made out feathers and cotton wool. It affects me in a way that weakens my body for a few days after. You may sit there and think I’m talking out my arse but anyone who has this Fibro will vouch for me, alcohol is a fecker I need to give up, but my will power is weak and drinking is to fun.
It hurts. The end.
Don’t get me started! Anything fun, forget about it. Become a rabbit and you are on your way to Fibro health fantasia.
5: Sitting at work
You end up becoming a statue, every time you stand up after long periods of sitting you become so stiff you think someone sneaked in while you were busily concentrating and cemented your joints together just for the craic. The tip is to get up every 15 minutes to really annoy your boss and lunge round the office like you have mental issues.
6: The stairs
Stairs are like a small victory for me these days. Some days they are easy as pie, but when my knees are on full revolt it’s like someone has stuck a knife in them, just walking occasionally feels like I aged a good 5o years. I take them though at every opportunity as I believe to not take them is just making you weaker, you must combat the Fibro by doing the things that make you hurt, to build the resistance, the intolerance, it’s like fighting an evasion. I’m pushing forward my resistance, I will not keel, I will not fall.
Now ask any of my friends, but I think I am Tina Turner when I dance, Tina turner on acid more like. I love to throw shapes like I own the dance floor, get in my way and you will be demolished. I even occasionally like a dance off to really show off my mum dancing skills to whoever may be unfortunate to observe. But dancing nowadays makes me feel like someone put me in the ring with Mike Tyson. After a good night of dancing the ability to walk straight for the next 3 days is a task I take seriously, don’t want to look like I take the special bus. Dancing causes my ass to hurt (yes I like to shake my booty), my sides to hurt, my back hurts and anything that I use to dance with hurts. Dancing causes a body melt down. I laugh the next day and I feel the pain, generally dancing just causes me pain on pain, but how could I give up dancing, that would be criminal! The 3 day after effects of sitting and hurting is worth it. Who knew sitting could hurt, trying having Fibro then going on a full-scale assault on the dance floor, the next day you will feel like you went for a work out with an army corporal and after they used you as a punch bag.
Oh! so saucy of me to mention such a thing. Having sex is somewhat like dancing but more intense and you are expected to contort in ways that are just unnatural to you since Fibro possessed your body. The last time I performed in the sexual acrobats I felt like someone had pummeled the insides of my legs! I was sure there was internal bruising.
9: Bruise like a peach
Someone just needs to poke me and I bruise like a peach, like someone took a sledge-hammer to me. Just be careful! Poking is dangerous, in all senses of the word.
Bed is like a haven, it’s where my body constantly yearns to be. I just have to walk for an hour or two and I feel like I took a hike up Mount Everest. Some days my body feels absolutely exhausted from doing nothing. My body feels weak and my head is all cloudy from feeling like I need a ten-year nap.
So that’s my top ten, oh the joys upon joy of it all.