I find myself yet again getting into a period where the chronic pain illness that I have is acting up again and having a detrimental effect on my physical and overall health.
Since I was 19, and there was construction at the university residence I was at, I have been fighting symptoms that made my doctor at the time wonder what was causing it. I, to paraphrase him, went from being a happy healthy young woman to someone who could barely move, who had no energy, and it wasn’t simply getting older. I have been trying to treat that pain for years. For the last six or so, I have been off and on Cymbalta. Unfortunately, I think my time with that drug being effective is coming to a close. That leaves me looking to see what we can do. I can either try to get into a rheumatologist, which I think is a minimum of a six month waiting list here, or we can try psych meds that have the wonderful pain reducing side effects.
I feel sometimes that I just get my ducks, well, not even into a row, but to the same pond, and some of those little quackers screw the hell off to somewhere else. If I weren’t the person I am, and from a long line of women who don’t give up when the getting gets tough, I’d have thrown up the white flag a long time ago.
I just want to be able to live. I want to be able to write without waves of fatigue getting in the way. I want to be able to attempt to keep up with my daughter (Seriously, if we could harness the power of young children, I think we would have enough energy to power the world forever). I know my sleep is a part of the issue, and definitely one of the larger puzzle pieces in my health jigsaw. But that’s slowly getting fixed.
Maybe soon I’ll be able to report that I’m getting more active because I have less pain. I can hope, right?