Fibromyalgia
Let's get it straight, Fibromyalgia robs me, it strips me of my dignity and it tries to make me depressed.
My goal was to paint the kitchen and finish it before Jason gets back into the country. My goal was to do it right, to paint the trim straight, to double coat it and to make it look awesome. Jason loves when I "make things happen." He's always admired that about me. But damn the fibromyalgia, it took me down, for two days, it made me seek out the bed, rest, sleep, it gave me the worst migraine I've had in two years (nobody knows which came first, the FM or the migraines-when I was 12yrs. old). I had painted so diligently, so hard, so consistently. I went up and down the ladder, up and down. The trim was actually too high for me. But I was determined. I stepped right up onto that second to last rung, wobbly as all get out, and fumbled my way through that highest trim. It's not perfectly straight, but gosh dern it, I did it. My Jason will be so proud, and I was feeling good too!
Until that is, I drove my daughter to class, and suffered an outrageous aura attack. I lost all peripheral vision on the way home, and it seemed as if I was looking through a fish tank. I drove really slow, hoping to not kill myself, or any other. I considered calling someone to come get me, but I could be strong, and get home myself. That's when the full fledged migraine struck. Right as I pulled into the driveway. I ignored it's throbbing presence at first and tried to paint despite it. Realizing that I couldnt see, and the pain was so critical I really needed to get into bed. This was the type of migraine where breathing hurt so bad I could cry, only crying would even hurt worse.
But I must finish the painting. I will not let the Fibromyalgia beat me. I can't. I've been fighting this for 34 years, it can't win now. After taking meds and sleeping it off through a horrifically painful night, I got up to paint the next day. The knots in my neck (formed by lack of REM sleep typical to FM) throbbed as if bleeding out hot lava from an erupted volcano. My muscles wimpered in heated pain. my head screamed out, "get back in bed."
NO, I must finish the painting. I laid down on and off through out the day. Wet washcloth over eyes. But I did it, I finished the room! I did not let this beat me.
But please, if you know someone with Fibromyalgia, pray for them. Pray for comfort and strength. Chances are, they are hurting and you just can't see it. Chances are, they've been through the fight of a lifetime. But because there are no bruises, there is no deformity, you might never know.
Fibromyalgia sucks. And I'm sorry for using that word. But it't the only one that seems to fit the bill.
Thank you Lord, for your strength and your grace. Only You can pull me through.
My goal was to paint the kitchen and finish it before Jason gets back into the country. My goal was to do it right, to paint the trim straight, to double coat it and to make it look awesome. Jason loves when I "make things happen." He's always admired that about me. But damn the fibromyalgia, it took me down, for two days, it made me seek out the bed, rest, sleep, it gave me the worst migraine I've had in two years (nobody knows which came first, the FM or the migraines-when I was 12yrs. old). I had painted so diligently, so hard, so consistently. I went up and down the ladder, up and down. The trim was actually too high for me. But I was determined. I stepped right up onto that second to last rung, wobbly as all get out, and fumbled my way through that highest trim. It's not perfectly straight, but gosh dern it, I did it. My Jason will be so proud, and I was feeling good too!
Until that is, I drove my daughter to class, and suffered an outrageous aura attack. I lost all peripheral vision on the way home, and it seemed as if I was looking through a fish tank. I drove really slow, hoping to not kill myself, or any other. I considered calling someone to come get me, but I could be strong, and get home myself. That's when the full fledged migraine struck. Right as I pulled into the driveway. I ignored it's throbbing presence at first and tried to paint despite it. Realizing that I couldnt see, and the pain was so critical I really needed to get into bed. This was the type of migraine where breathing hurt so bad I could cry, only crying would even hurt worse.
But I must finish the painting. I will not let the Fibromyalgia beat me. I can't. I've been fighting this for 34 years, it can't win now. After taking meds and sleeping it off through a horrifically painful night, I got up to paint the next day. The knots in my neck (formed by lack of REM sleep typical to FM) throbbed as if bleeding out hot lava from an erupted volcano. My muscles wimpered in heated pain. my head screamed out, "get back in bed."
NO, I must finish the painting. I laid down on and off through out the day. Wet washcloth over eyes. But I did it, I finished the room! I did not let this beat me.
But please, if you know someone with Fibromyalgia, pray for them. Pray for comfort and strength. Chances are, they are hurting and you just can't see it. Chances are, they've been through the fight of a lifetime. But because there are no bruises, there is no deformity, you might never know.
Fibromyalgia sucks. And I'm sorry for using that word. But it't the only one that seems to fit the bill.
1 comment:
If you are trying to comment and it doesn't go through--please email me jandjemery@gmail.com and let me know--I would love to hear your comments!
Sincerely,
Joanna
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