DAMN
YOU, Fibromyalgia!
(A Night in the Life of FMS)
What was it the doctor said? If I had eleven points that were painful out of eighteen I could be successfully diagnosed with fibromyalgia, like it was a competition to be won. How wonderful! Then, he went on to explain that it was neither a disease or terminal illness. That was a bit of delightful news. However, there was also no cure for this elusive “syndrome.” Lovely! Do you detect a bit of sarcasm in my tone? You should. It’s there. There are days when it’s difficult to keep it out of my speaking voice too.
The symptoms can make one wonder about their sanity. There is nothing that shows on an x-ray or MRI that aids in a proper diagnosis. There is no blood test that defines it either. Many women have found themselves given anti-depressant medications by a physician that is convinced that her malady is “all in her head”. That’s the last place to be affected. The depression only comes when she is not understood and made to feel that she’s no longer a valuable contributor to her world. Believe me, the insomnia gives her plenty of time to dwell on all the negatives.
The thought that irritates me the most is that until men began to complain of this non-specific ailment, women were not even taken seriously. Now, suddenly it has become something to be addressed by the medical profession. Don’t let me get started on that. This is not the forum for that volatile topic.
The clock glows brilliant neon green against the darkness of my bedroom as it silently announces to anyone still awake that the time is 3:57 a. m. I prop up on my elbow and peer at it as if willing it to not be so early in the morning. Realizing I’ve been in bed for over four sleepless hours causes more angst. Lately it’s the same every night. I wrestle with the bed until I concede defeat, get up and walk about the dimly lit house, trying not to disturb the rest of the family. Tonight isn’t going to be any different. Damn you fibromyalgia!
Gently pushing the covers aside so as not to wake my husband, I ease out of bed. Padding barefoot down the hall my body cries for something to give it rest. It’s too late to take medication that will make me sleep. If I do, I will sleep half of tomorrow/today away. If I don’t, I won’t sleep at all and I’ll continue to have this burning muscle pain.
This time, it’s between my shoulders. Tomorrow, it may be somewhere else. Maybe tomorrow exhaustion will claim me and I’ll sleep. If I do, I know that I’ll awaken with that ever-present muscle stiffness that halts my determination for the first few waking hours of every day.
Not all days and nights are as negative as I’ve described. I’m told that if I maintain a rigid schedule of rest that it will get better. I’m also told that I’m totally disabled because of it. Although, Social Security advises me that since I am still capable of thinking, I’m not eligible for their benefits. Oh, if they only knew what I was capable of thinking of them! Now, I’m faced with doing battle with an opponent that has all the resources to oppose me.
So, I say, “Let the games begin!” As I learn more, I’ll write more to share with you. Perhaps we can learn together.
