This is what I refer to as a ‘pain day’. Every inch of my body aches. I woke up exhausted and that hasn’t changed. I get tired of living with chronic pain, just as anyone else who lives with it does. No matter what you do, it’s always there. No amount of pills or exercises or hot showers will change it.
Today, arms and hands are on fire. The rest of my body, head to toe, is a dull ache, punctuated by the surprising sharp pain here and there. I’m sleepy to the point of being a zombie. I don’t take naps, though. I keep thinking that, if I just don’t take naps…don’t give in, it’s all going to go away one day. (I swear, I keep Vivarin in business). Sometimes, I allow myself to consider the truth…that this is permanent. . Hands shake, fingers won’t go where they’re told. It takes forever to type anything these days. I’m definitely ‘back’ button addicted. The headaches, memory issues and general feeling of being a fucking doorstop are making me crazy.
I got a lot done, so far, today. For me. I’m decorating my bedroom. What I used to do in a few hours now takes a few days. And that’s if I stay on top of it. I feel embarrassed by it. Because I am nothing like I used to be. It’s frustrating to try and reconnect with that person. She has long since abandoned the situation…and me. Still, I close my eyes and try to picture places I’ve lived in the past. Especially my old house. I try to recreate the look and feel of the place. It’s not the same, though. It just isn’t. But, all in all, it’s a reasonable facsimile, I suppose.
I think that’s all I want…to have my life back. I think that’s what all this slave crap is about and all the other bullshit I’ve been thinking and doing lately. But I’ll never be the same. I can’t fix this. I can’t do the things I used to do and that’s just how it is. Fibromyalgia? Right. I don’t even believe it’s real, but I have it. Denial much? Yes, please. Now what?
I don’t write about this much. I’ve pretty much abandoned my pain blog. Because I don’t want a ‘pain’ blog. It does help to talk about it, though. Still…I don’t even want to THINK about it. Even my mother recognizes things now that upset her. Mostly, my memory issues. And she saw how much my hands shake a couple of visits ago. It freaked her out. Shit…it freaks me out. But it’s just nerves playing their silly games in my body. Shooting here…there…doing what they want to. Doc says they’re dead. I don’t understand that. If they’re dead, how can I move my hands and arms? What’s with the nerve pain? The doc who did my hand surgery said they’ll either die, completely, or regrow. So…how the fuck do you know if they’re growing? And…how do you know if they’re dead? Shit.
There’s a lot of information on the net about Fibromyalgia. Now and then, I spend a few hours trying to find that magic thing that someone came up with that makes it better. So far, no luck. But…I don’t have cancer or emphysema or anything as horrible as all of that. My bloodwork is perfect, heart’s right on the money…good to go. So, I do realize that there’s much to be grateful for. And, I am. More than I can say. But I’m still frustrated with all of this. Who wouldn’t be?
This sounds like a pity party, but it’s not. It’s a rant. Like I said, I’m thankful for the good things, healthwise. I always remember that when I feel like this. It doesn’t help, but we all have things to be thankful for and we should all practice gratitude. So…there’s that. And, I’m grateful that Exish and I are still friends. He takes good care of me, for the most part. I’d be living with my mother right now if he didn’t. I have been trying to figure out a net based job that I can do from home. There has to be a way to make money without using my hands in any strong-arm fashion. I would open a little grooming shop, but I don’t think I can do even a few a day anymore. When I was laid off, I was about to have to quit, anyway. The pain was too much.
Though I hated being a pet groomer, (don’t judge me, it’s a fucking difficult endeavor), I did love working with ‘bad’ dogs. They interest me a lot. Bad dogs tend to have a sense of self worth that other dogs don’t have. I never used muzzles, although they don’t hurt anything. I just loved to study the little fuckers and figure them out. Touch therapy worked best for me. Once they grew accustom to my touch, they would move on to another phase of their disposition, and we’d go from there. I groomed dogs whose owners couldn’t pick up. I think they got it that I was the same kind of pissed off as they were, or something. Who knows? In almost 20 years, I only had two serious bites. Both from little dogs. This German Shepard went for me one time, but I got away. lol! Still…I continued to work with both of those dogs. One was like my baby by the time it was over with. The other…I told his mom to find a new groomer. He was naturally aggressive, and you cannot train that out of an animal. But, all in all, I miss my bad babies. A couple of them have died since I was layed off. It breaks my heart.
The main thing with dogs that bite is whether or not they are effective biters. Most dogs give you a couple of test bites, or they’re serious, but don’t realize their own power or how to negotiate an effective bite. Others, however, take a ‘one strike, you’re out’ policy when it comes to biting. It absolutely fascinates me. I don’t know why. If there was a college course about dog bites, I’d take it. Honestly. I think that the way dogs bite reflects how many humans live their lives. You have the tasters…the teasers…then, you have the land sharks. You just never know what you’re dealing with until you get close enough.
Good grief, what a random ramble. I think I’m done now. I need to put a few more things away and such, then I’ll be finished with Phase 1 of my glorious bedroom redux. I can’t wait until it’s done. It’s going to be gorgeous. Hmmm…Maybe I’ll start taking naps, after all…