I’ve got so used to managing my pain that, on occasion, I would consider myself a bit of a pro. Flare ups haven’t happened in over four months and – although I was too scared to say it out loud – I was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, my symptoms were slowing down.
And then, this week, two things happened. Two things that knocked me on the head and said, “Hey chick! You’re ill – don’t go thinking you’re okay now!”
Firstly, I went shopping. I know, the gall of me! I shopped for a whole 70 minutes before it would be fair to say that my legs just gave up. Clearly they felt I had experienced too much fun for one day. I limped, called a friend slightly distressed, and then hobbled in to a taxi home.
I welled up in the taxi. The inability to walk hadn’t happened to me in a while. I thought it was because I was getting better… it turns out it’s just because I haven’t been shopping for more than 60 minnutes in a long time.
The second bang on the head was tonight when, shock horror, I cooked. Firstly, chopping an onion is one of the most painful things in the world. I then stirred risotto for 20 minutes and had to get a chair to sit down as my back tingled, I got pins and needles in my arms and my legs started to shake. From cooking.
Fibro sufferers – to those of you who cook on a daily basis, I have all the respect in the world for you. How do you do it?
I guess this week the Fibro Gods have reminded me that, no matter how well you’re managing your symptoms, don’t forget that life isn’t what it was.