Due to all the medical diagnoses, I have had thrown at me over the last few years, I have become accustomed to not feeling very well from time to time. Especially in relation to the weather when extreme cold or heat can affect how my joints and fibromyalgia flare up. There are days though, like the last few, where for inexplicable reasons I cannot even begin to fathom, I wake up feeling as though I’ve been hit by a Mack truck in my sleep and left in a ditch on the side of some rainy road. Everything hurts and I am so fatigued that even walking a few steps is as though I’ve run several miles.
That little picture to the right says it all. Busted can of biscuits indeed. You would think that with all the advancements in medicine and technology that we have made today, that something like chronic pain and fatigue could be helped, if not cured entirely. Instead, those of us who suffer with it must endure the criticism of people who doubt there is anything wrong with us at all and inept doctors who think all we want are narcotics for our pain.
I call bullshit on that. I know there are definitely people out there who use so called medical reasons as a way to get heavy duty pain killers like morphine and to get the hook up for a medical marijuana card. But why loop us all into the same stereotype? I for one have never taken a single pain pill stronger than an ibuprofen, for my fibro (I’ve had stronger drugs after surgery and dental work, but only short-term) and even though I was prescribed the typical fibro drugs like Cymbalta and Gabapentin, I never took one. Why? Because I hate medication. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life waking up to a Sunday through Saturday pill reminder container and having to consume a bunch of them just to exist.
What I want, is my life back. I want to be able to join my daughter on a hike, or visit the local zoo and walk all the way through it without having to stop every five feet at a bench “to rest”. I want to go grocery shopping without feeling like I should be using one of their little ride around carts. There are of course aspects to my health that I am not mentioning here that contribute to part of my issues, like my weight for example. But that deserves a whole blog post all it’s own.
I used to be one of the most active people around. It was nothing for me to walk 5 or 10 miles just to get where I was going because I didn’t own a car at the time. I’d go out dancing all night and into the wee hours of the morning, barely sleep an hour or two and be back out on that dance floor the next night. Rinse and repeat, all weekend long. I moved a mattress and box spring up a flight of stairs into my own apartment once because I was single and had no help. It was a struggle and I almost fell down those stairs several times, but I had the strength and endurance to pull it off. Now? I’d be lucky to lift a corner of my mattress up off the box spring, without feeling the need to collapse on said bed for an hour nap after. What the hell happened to me?
I have no answers to that question and I am sure there are others out there like me suffering from the same afflictions wondering the same thing. On behalf of all of us suffering from everywhere, I’d like to beseech the scientists and doctors of the world, to please, please find us something that helps. Better yet, a cure. We want to live too.