Did it. Just a wee bit ago.
Why not. *shrug* See, the thing with living with chronic illness, especially when you’ve got multiple conditions resulting in living at the rate of several “wtf’s” per second, is that the emotions are just as unpredictable as your symptoms.
I’ve spent the last four days on an uber-high. And by “uber”, I mean “OMFG!!! I LOVE THE WORLD” kind of high (in no way to be mistaken for, “I feel great.” That’s just ri-donk-ulous!). It started Thursday, the day before my birthday, and lasted until about pain-o’clock last evening.
Today? Today would be about as opposite of uber-high as one could possibly get. Perhaps even the negative cosine somethingorother of uber-high.
No, today feels more like I just want to die. Figuratively speaking, of COURSE *eyeroll*. At the very least, I want to rip my muscles from the fascia surrounding them and pull them all out through chainsaw massacre gouges in my skin.
Hold on…lemme think on that for a second…..
[enter Jeopardy theme]
Yup. That’s about right. When your child sees you crying at the dining room table because the amount of effort it just took to choke down your meds almost made you throw up…well…that’s it in a nutshell.
I SO lost my whack.
I am currently existing with sub-whack, or maybe even negative whackatory. *shrug* Either way, I feel like shit. “Horrible”, describes it, I suppose. And yes, I think I’d rather a bus run me over than to feel like THIS.
I’ve seen a lot of queries posted in my Twitter feeds about “how do you manage?”. Not me, personally, but how ANYONE manages. It’s a cry for, “please-for-the-love-of-all-things-holy-tell-me-I’m-not-alone-feeling-like-this” with an peppering of, “I-really-want-to-empower-myself-to-fix-on-my-own-because-no-one-else-can.”
I thought about it…prior to THE breakdown of Monday, June 20th…and thought about how I’d respond.
[enter cricket chirp]
Well, I cry. A lot. Then I move on.
Seriously. What the hell else IS there to do?
Put some music on…turn off all the lights but one…pick up a good book…take a bath…?
You’re on crack. A bonafide “crack-of-whack.” Not all of us are able to readily sit down for longer than 2.2 minutes (aka, ME).
Nope. Me? It’s pour a little (read: “dollops”) of Bailey’s in my coffee, grab my stack-o-flyers (which is not, in fact, to be confused with stack’o’whack. Completely different)…and pray I can hit the right keys on the netbook with my swollen snausage fingers to connect with my #spoonies.
I need to see someone type the same things as I’m feeling. I need to respond to them in turn with the things I’m hoping they’re feeling like how *I* am feeling them. While I’m on the netbook, I’m also researching self-controlled ways to manage my pain because, in her infinate wisdom, my family doctor (who also has fibro) looked at me when I asked her, “What can I use for pain management?”, and replied with, “Nothing.” This would be hash-tagged as #wtf.
[enter evil glare]
Hmmmm. What else do I do? Well, I cry some more. Cuz gosh darn it, I’m so bloody GOOD at it! (o.O) Um…well, I also try to empower myself to use social networking to raise awareness to my friends and family who aren’t afflicted with chronic illness(es) so that they might be better able to understand what it is that is making me resemble the Incredible Hulk (sans muscluature. Omg, could you IMAGINE if the Hulk had fibro!?!?!?) or Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde (sans doctorate in medicine. Omg, could you IMAGINE being able to write your own prescriptions?!?!?)
It’s a long and sometimes disappointing route, however. When people ask for knowledge, they sometimes forget to “listen” when you give it to them.
In the meantime, I just manage. I manage, in whatever big way or small way, to be the better person for all of the hardships that have been thrown my way.
When my end of the road comes, I want people to know I managed, at the very least, to DO things regardless of the cards that had been dealt.
I want to be known as the one who changed the game.