Today is a good day. Tomorrow might not be, but today is a good day, and I'm going to enjoy it while I've got it. The last ten days have been anything BUT what I now call "good". Funny thing is, my "good" now used to cripple me--before I met my new alter ego, the Fibro Minion.
Several years ago, I started having pain that doctors couldn't explain. It started in my back, which of course was dismissed as "mom fatigue"--bending, stooping, kneeling, lifting, carrying, all that rough-on-the-back stuff that I'd done with seven children. I had headaches for weeks; not migraines, but just incessant, unrelenting headaches that wore me down. I chalked that up to eye strain, because the older I was getting, the more the sun was bothering me, and being outside almost always left me feeling the wrath of my optic nerves.
The game changer was my bout with histoplasmosis. For almost six months, I felt like I was getting the flu--body aches that made me want to curl up in a corner, night sweats, and fatigue ... oh goodness, the fatigue. Thanks to my immune system's little temper tantrum fighting an infection that most people never really even know they have, I ended up having major surgery to remove part of my lung that had developed fibrosis and was dying. Lovely thought, that. I thought that was the end of my pain and malaise, but when my pulmonologist could not find any reason my symptoms had reappeared despite the lack of infection, he referred me back to my doctor to discuss the possibility that something had triggered the onset of a nemesis I never knew I feared--fibromyalgia.
All my labs revealed that, other than feeling like I have the flu all the time, I'm pretty healthy! Even my blood pressure, cholesterol, and blood sugar is within normal ranges. The only thing my labs pointed to was a severe vitamin D deficiency. The physical exam, on the other hand, made me understand what is meant by the term "trigger points". Oh, WOW!! Just shoot me across the room, why don't you?? I left the doctor's office that day knowing what I was diagnosed with, but not knowing what it meant. It took a long while to understand that I have a new reality now--and it's one I continually struggle with. Too many months, I find myself falling into a slump of exasperated depression. I just don't like this. At all.
I used to be able to do so much. Being exhausted was earned; there was a sense of accomplishment behind sore muscles and a worn-out body. Now? Well, now I wake up exhausted. It takes at least half an hour just to get out of bed. I don't mean just tired from not sleeping well--I mean exhausted like you haven't rested in days. Most days, upon waking, I have to spend at least ten minutes waking up one of my limbs because it's painfully numb. Don't understand how numb can be painful? I'm glad for you, truly. I honestly don't remember the last time I woke up feeling rested or refreshed. Fibromyalgia took that away from me. It took away my ability to complete tasks I use to do without even thinking about it. I pay dearly for physical exertion.
Never, in my wildest nightmares, had I ever thought I'd feel like this at 43 years of age. I know 80-somethings who don't deal with chronic pain, yet here I am, in what should be my middle age "prime," barely making it through each day. I must admit, this one fact is humiliating. I want to be able to do so much more, but when I attempt it, I suffer for days afterward. What's even harder is keeping tabs on the depression that creeps up alongside the pain. I don't want to take medication, but I want to feel better. I want to do more, but I don't want to be "rewarded" with pain. I just want my life back. I'm too young for this. There are days--those awful "bad" days--when I'm overtaken not just by pain, but also by hopelessness. It's not surprising that suicide is the biggest killer among those fighting fibromyalgia. The thought of enduring another 30 years or more of this pain is too much.
The only option worth considering is to take life one day at a time.