I tried the Celebrex again today and it seemed to make quite a difference. (It usually makes me get sick to my stomach.) For over an hour I felt the best I have in over three months… I felt 100%, for me. I say “for me” because folks with fibromyalgia know a fibrofolk’s 100% is, in fact, not 100%.
Luckily living with fibromyalgia teaches you you can live a nearly complete life and get things done with constant pain, so you calibrate your definition of 100% accordingly. If I simply looked to feel 100% per the typical definition I assume I would waste much, if not all, of my life. To be honest, I cannot remember what it feels like to feel no pain. And yet, I consider myself one of the happiest folks I’ve come across.
Anyway… the stuff made a difference again. But the stuff makes me sick for nearly a day. Nothing sounds good to eat. Nothing stays down. And the pain relief only lasts three hours, maximum. Ultimately, my jury is still out on this stuff. And while they deliberate let’s get back to the pain thing…
I am acquiring a perverse new habit. Or maybe I am finally allowing myself to acknowledge I have always had this habit. Or almost always had this habit. Or something.
Anyway, I often gauge the productivity of my day by my pain level at the end of it. Par example… when I finally sat down today… to relax (with nothing specific to accomplish)… 30 minutes ago… and propped my legs up on the ottoman my loving husband bought for me I realized I hurt something awful. My legs feel like they are slowly being shrink wrapped and will soon burst under the pressure. My hips feel like a couple of giant charley horses trying to buck their way free of my body. My fingers are stiff, swollen, and aching. And yet I have my mind. I can tell today has been a great day. And I mean that.
I woke up to a rough morning but I was in the office by 9. (Random Fact:Last night I woke up at some absurd hour with the most intense muscle cramp I have ever had (I was a gymnast… I’ve had lots) yelling for my husband (who was asleep next to me) to save me… like it was a freaking shark attack or something (fitting for Shark Week!).) Anyway, I was productive at work. I completed reports. I revised some stuff. I watched the stock market. I planned the coming month. I organized my new work responsibilities and delved in. I used my lunch break to prep for coming loved-ones as well as a church function this evening.
I spent the second half of my work day remembering how lucky I am to work with some wonderful folks. (We work on some challenging projects and are asked to come up with answers, forecasts, and projections with little, or no, data. And yet we enjoy ourselves.) I worked a bit late. Came home, cleaned house, prepped for the church activity, made simple treat, greeted the ladies, facilitated a discussion, visited with the ladies, showered, folded laundry, prepped a guest room, planned tomorrow, and then I crashed on this couch.
And realize today has been a great day. I can feel it in my bones.
I love this feeling. I love the pain that comes from a hard day’s work. I love the satisfaction that comes from doing your best and pushing yourself. I love having more than one way to gauge my accomplishments. Lists… and pain….
Does this make any sort of sense to y’all? What do you think?