I dread mornings.  I wake up with an upset stomach, a headache, and body that hurts so badly I can barely move.  Every morning.  It is a rare occasion that I stay in bed more than one minute after my alarm sounds.  Now, don’t get me wrong.  I always want to roll over, call in sick, and sleep the day away, because at least when I sleep I don’t hurt.  But the reality is the more quickly I get up and out of bed, the more quickly I feel I can function.

And here’s the point…

How many of us give in to these awful mornings?  How many of us lose resolve after a few of these miserable mornings?  How many of us choose to go back to sleep, just to escape the pain?  Isn’t the reality that such a choice is actually inhibiting our progress toward being well and pain-free?

Too many fibro folks choose to do what seems easy (roll over and go back to sleep), or even wise, and by doing so choose to feel a bit worse each day.  We take a sick day, take it easy, and skip our exercise.  And we create our own version of the reality that so many fibromyalgia and chronic pain stereotypes are based on.  We act lazy, we sleep all day, and we think no one understands.

I am not immune to such follies.  I too give in to my pain, far too often.  But since my trip to Arizona I have rededicated myself to doing what is truly best for my body… getting up, going out, and doing something.

I need to show what I can do.

I need to see myself succeed.

I need to feel my health improve.

And I firmly believe that by doing so, I can create and maintain a cycle of improvement.  I know I will face truly challenging days.  But I pray my future lows will be higher than mast highs.  Improvement is my goal.  May it be a goal we share.

So, please don’t give in the bad days.  And if you are stuck in a cycle of submitting to the mornings you think movement is an impossibility, strive for the little victories.  Set achievable goals, hold yourself accountable (to yourself, a goal, or a loved one), and tell me about your successes.  Please.  We can motivate each other.

And remember how way back when I wrote about how rarely I get sick?  Well, I think karma’s showing it’s friendly face.  I’ve been sick for three of the four months of 2009.

But remember how last year, at this time I was losing my mind, and most of my sleep, two-timing and loving it, and debating medications and monogamy?  Well, I learned a lot from leaning on others to accelerate my recovery, but I’ll take this over that, any day.  And I mean it.

I can’t remember the last time I had an ear infection.  I can’t remember the last time I had a wicked cold.  I can’t remember the last time a medication (besides my beloved Amitriptyline) did not make me sick.

I can, however, remember I have much to be grateful for.  Including you.  And my bed.  And my job.  And my family.  And weather.  And computers.  And a flash mob that dances to the Sound of Music.

Good night.

Back on point.

I’m not sure any of these visits have been directly related to my fibromyalgia or osteoarthritis.  I, frankly, can’t recall.  I can, however, recall what the last two have been for.  A nasty cold, bug, infection, bout with illness, kiss of cough, or whatever you like to call it.  So, I guess, technically, I don’t know what it’s been for, I just know what the symptoms are.  Sounds kinda like fibromyalgia, doesn’t it?

Last Wednesday I wrote a quick post as I was waiting at the doctor’s office.  By the time I left the office I had a perscription to fill if my condition did not improve by Thursday.  My sweet husband picked the meds up for me last Friday and I’ve been taking them since… with no noticeable improvement.  Actually, I’ve continued to get more congested and have greater difficulty breathing for eight days now.  The days are bearable.  I sound like Michelle Rodriquez with a little helium.  But, the nights are rough.

image from Gladwell.com

My work provides a wonderful service for employees to can call a Mayo Clinic nurse to discuss medical issues for free.  Have you heard of this?  I’ve used it a few times and am consistently impressed with their customer service and genuine concern for my issues.  When I can’t decide to go the doctor or not I give them a call.  I am sure they are more thorough than some doctors… they stick to checklists.  And if you’ve read Blink by Malcolm Gladwell, you’ve heard just how effective such lists can be when it comes to medical matters.

After nearly 45 minutes of questions, answers, and advice, my kind nurse suggested I visit the doctor within four hours.  I called my doctor’s office and, long story short, they were too busy.  I sure wish they hadn’t been.  Maybe if I’d had meds last night would not have included more breathing and, therefore, more sleeping.  But, oh well.  It totally could have been worse.  Yesterday my husband’s grandfather had his kidney removed due to cancer and I’m here complaining about my annoying… non-virus, silly voice creating, sleep stealing mystery ailment.  I don’t want to sound as though I’m complaining.  I’m telling a story.  And details do not equate to complaints (which is somewhat like the fact that reason is not synonymous with excuse).

I’ve been working from home since Monday to avoid getting my coworkers sick (and spare them my nasty sound effects), but I decided to head into work this afternoon on my way to another follow-up.  I was mildly embarrassed by my silly voice,  but I enjoyed the chance to get out and about.  And the follow-up was productive (moreso than this cough of mine).  I walked out with two prescriptions and the sarcastic promise of an exam room with my name on it by the next time I visit my doctor.  So far, the jury is out on the expensive medications.  I can, however, say that the cough suppressent/decongestent he gave me is stellar.  And that is exciting.

Any advice for kicking a strong bug like this?  I’ve tried gargling salt water.  Sleep.  Hot showers.  A humidifier.  And some other stuff I can’t remember because it’s late.  I’ll take all the advice you’ve got to give.

Thank you for sticking with me through this lengthy and self-indulgent post.  I am under-slept and over-coughed and I am grateful for your support.  I appreciate your involvement and feedback and advice and concern.  I pray this post finds you healthy and at peace, despite all that rages on in this restless and peace-starved world.  When in doubt, get involved and share a smile.

G’night.

Don’t get me wrong.  I love Saturdays.  I wake up early and anything is possible.  I pick up the kitchen and declutter the dining room.  I enjoy the early morning sun pouring into the living room.  I watch some HGTV.  I prepare for upcoming posts.  I catch up on tweets.  I plan my day.  I pick my Saturday project.  And when Daniel’s up and at ‘em I tell him my grand plan for the day and we get started…

We’ll take a trip to Walmart, and (hopefully) Lowes.  We’ll clean the house, do some laundry, and organize a closet.  We’ll rearrange furniture, play the wii, and talk about our week.  We’ll prepare for guests, spend time with friends, and get ready for Sunday.  Individually none of these items sound exhausting, and when we pack ‘em in one after the other there’s no time to feel exhausted.  But when dinner time comes and I finally take a seat that’s likely where I will stay until I head to bed.

I get excited just thinking about a project.  So I begin and stick with it until it’s complete, with little regard for how taxing said project may be on my energy level and/or health.  Daniel is the type who recognizes all the work projects entail and, as a result, is less likely to begin (knowing I’ll do that part for him).  We balance each other well.  I start and get excited and he’ll support me and work with me.

Anyway… the point is I am selectively devoid of the ability (or desire) to stop a task simply because I am exhausted. I’m not sure if this has always been the case, or if it’s a “skill” I’ve developed from living with fibromyalgia for over a decade ago.  Either way it’s a a huge opportunity (translated: shortcoming) for me.  Actually, it’s a blessing and a curse.

Since I made it back to work full-time last June, Daniel’s been good about reminding me to pay attention to my to do list and my sleep schedule.  Both have a significant impact on my health and, therefore, are of great importance to him.  Although I sometimes get annoyed when he reminds me of the time or encourages me to take a break, I appreciate his concern and willingness to pick up the slack I leave when I take a break or head to bed.  I am especially appreciative on days like today… a Saturday during which I have NOT overdone it. Perhaps I don’t feel as though I’ve overdone it because I, in fact, have not done much today (not true, I survived a grocery run).  Or, maybe I am not exhausted because of what I have and have not done throughout the week.

Sunday night Daniel and I were in bed and asleep by 9:30.  I can’t even do justice how unusual this is.  Daniel and I would rather read, write, game, organize, eat, yawn, and chat than sleep.  Working full time allows us so few hours together neither of us is in a hurry to get to sleep.  We both choose to live sleep deprived (Daniel more so than myself) in exchange for downtime with each other.  You know how it goes.  It may lead to a few minor disagreements on those days when we’re super sleepy, but the conversations and company are well worth it.  Point is, 9:30 gave me 2 hours more sleep than I typically get and Daniel 3-4 more.

Throughout the week I kept the house more tidy than is typical.  I played “Martha Stewart” each day after work and spent up to an hour tidying things before I collapsed on the couch.  We ran errands instead of bumming around in the evening.  Daniel got caught up on homework and his writing.  We didn’t let life wear us out.  We stayed on top of things.

All-in-all answering the aforementioned questions, “Will I recognize when I’ve reached my limit?  Or will I overdo it?” is rather simple this Saturday:

Yes.  Although I have not yet reached my limit I am prepared to acknowledge when I do.  No, I will not overdo it.  I am learning to pace myself and treat the week like a marathon, not a sprint to be completed on the one day I have with absolutely no reoccurring event.

The truth is (in my case, and I know I’m an exception) naps simply, as is said, rob Peter to pay Paul.

My husband would argue this point.  He’s a firm believer in catching up on sleep.  And it works for him.  Not me.  Not unlucky me.  (Actually I’m very lucky.  I’ll take unluck when it comes to sleep in exchange for my other good luck.)  You see, my body seems to have established a quota for sleep.  I get a maximum of eight hours in any 24 hour period.  And that’s only if I’ve earned it.  If I haven’t earned it I get hours trying to fall asleep.  Luckily, I have my first love, Amitriptyline to help out in these cases.  But 10mg at bedtime only enables me to get my body’s established quota.  No more.  So… when I get gullible and fall for a Sunday Afternoon Nap I’m outta luck.  Because for every hour I sleep during the day, I get to spend one more hour trying to sleep at night.

Last night was no exception… I took a nearly three hour nap (unheard of for me, btw) so, logically, I spent nearly three hours in the fickle and frustrating land between consciousness and sleep, I got a workout each time I attempted to toss and turn (I told you my obliques were going to love this new mattress), and you got to listen to me rant.

G’night fibrofolks!  Please let me know how you feel about naps.  Is it just me?

Everyone I’ve talked to who owns a Tempur-Pedic mattress has said nearly the same thing.  They’ve warned me not to let the first two weeks determine how I felt about the mattress.  They’ve told me the mattress is a bit smelly and stiff at first.  They’ve even suggested we invite folks to jump on it to soften it.  And, while I recognize our mattress is a little stiff and a lot smelly, it’s pretty much the best thing ever.  I’ve slept wonderfully and woken up with a minimum of pain.

Jumping on the mattress is like running on sand.  Daniel and I didn’t last five minutes before our thighs were sore.  Rolling over is quite like jumping on the mattress, in that it’s like rolling over on sand.  The mattress doesn’t provide any spring.  I’m pretty sure my obliques are going to love this mattress as much as the rest of me.  Or, I’m going to love my obliques as much as I love the mattress.  I hope.

On a more serious note, both my husband and I love the mattress.  We look forward to falling asleep.  I even looked forward to our Sunday Afternoon Nap.  It’s even motivated us to make the bed each day.  I will keep you posted on my fibromyalgia and my mattress.

My Vote: I (like the Arthritis Foundation) have lots of love for the Rhapsody Bed, by Tempur-Pedic.

I always seem to be pondering an issue, product, or theory and I often think of questions I’d like to ask my doctor (or chiropractor).  I trust their opinions above any other medical field worker I’ve met (and I, like you, have met a small army of them), so on the way to my appointments I always make a mental note of my discussion topics (a habit my mom helped me develop to get the most out of the dozens of appointments we went through trying to get a diagnosis). Despite these efforts, if I go to an appointment alone, I neglect to remember my questions upon entering the exam room.

So, there I sat in Dr. Arkins exam room, all excited about the form and how it prompted me for additional questions.  And in all the excitement I chased off all memories of questions.  Awful timing.  A few trigger memories finally led me to remember a few questions and I jotted them down.

After handing the paper back to the nurse I felt a bit self-conscious.  My questions were extremely varied and had exactly nothing to do with the purpose of my appointment.  I mean, seriously.  I will spare you the uninteresting details (which I’d have to make up) and get to the one I know you’re all interested in.  I simply wrote “mattress.”  Yep.  Not even a question.  Just a one word reminder for when the doctor came in.  And when Dr. Arkins came in armed with the questionnaire and my file he was ready to discuss everything I’d written down.  Even the oneword “question.”

He asked if I was looking into a new mattress.  I said something along the lines of “Well, more like dreaming about one.  But I am curious if you think it’s worth saving up for a memory foam mattress.”  This led to a very rapid discussion in which he expressed disbelief that I didn’t already have a non-spring matress, offered to write a letter prescribing a memoryfoam or Tempur-Pedic mattress, and wrote said letter.  All in less than five minutes.  He then explained that, even if insurance won’t cover it, I could and should use my HSA.  And, he added, since it was December 31st I best get on the ball so I could meet my deductible before the new year.

Wow.  I walked out of the office feeling giddy.  I hadn’t asked for the letter.  Nor had I expected one.  And I certainly had not considered that by sundown I would own the Rhapsody Bed by Tempur-Pedic…

“When I’m confronted by someone I get tongue tied and my mind goes blank.  Then I spend the rest of the night tossing and turning over what I should have said.  For example what should I have recently said to… a bottom dweller who recently belittled my existence?”

Except the only thing I’ve been confronted by is a great idea and a blank blog post.  And the only thing betlittling my existence is this blank post and the great idea still stuck in my skull.

It is too late for Kate.  She can’t put her thoughts into words…

I will try again tomorrow.

This morning I was feeling pretty sure I was improving. Tonight I feel just as awful as I did the first day I left work. From my mid-back down I feel quite like someone is attempting to remove my legs, from the inside out. Hopefully sleep will help, as it did earlier today.

Until then, I believe this powerful piece by JournalGirlKira absolutely depicts how I feel.

I love her work and hope to have a special feature on her before too long. Until then be sure to check her out over on flickr.

I am trying to determine if the exhaustion sets in because I try to do too much early in the morning. Or, perhaps, the Cymbalta is counteracting the Amitriptyline and I am not getting enough restful sleep. There is also a chance it’s just fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue. Whatever it is, I am working out a schedule that allows me to get ample sleep, have energy to get some household tasks done, and spend my most alert time working.
This flare-up has worn out it’s welcome… if it ever had one.