My magic bell and fibromyalgia

with fibromyalgia injuries take longer to heal

intact, after the fall

My magic bell was the first thought I had after I hit the wet pavement.  Did it break I wondered?

As you can see from the picture here, it did not break!  Nor did my head which is good ’cause I didn’t have a helmet on.

“You know how it is with you.  Because of fibromyalgia when you get a localized injury it spreads to other areas,” my doctor said.

“Well, umm, how long do you think my back will hurt?”  I knew the question was one he couldn’t answer.  I don’t know why I asked. He just looked at me.  I don’t remember if he said anything.  I think he simply nodded his head to communicate that he didn’t have a clue.

It was my elbow that got cut open.  My shoulder hurt and my knee,  but after a few days the rest of my body began to hurt.  I was in a great deal of pain as I sat there with my family doctor.

I know you can’t see any bruises I told my doctor, but my body really does hurt.

With a tender tone that was much appreciated he said, “I believe you,” and I knew he did.  He believes me when I tell him I am in pain. This is a blessing when you have an illness that is not only misunderstood but also denied by some as being a true medical entity.

Fibromyalgia.  I think I am mad at this word!  This medical entity!  If I was superstitious or believed in demons possessing one’s body and soul, then I would sure be having an exorcism performed!  But I don’t believe in that, nor do I believe, at least in my rational mind, that I am being punished by God.

Having been brought up in the south with a strong Southern Baptist influence, I must admit that I do actually think and sometimes feel that I am being punished, which I believe is a direct result of what I learned about God and Jesus.

My grandmother told me that Jesus was watching me all the time and that he knew every single thing I did.  Well, that right there shaped and formed a large part of my world view.    I think this must get in a person’s brain forever, these things we learn as children.

When I am in severe pain or have been too fatigued to do anything for days on end, even think, sometimes I find myself lying in my bed, crying out to God and apologizing for all my sins.  I ask why and how am I supposed to do anything if I have this illness that at times renders me totally useless!

My rational mind tells me I’m not being punished and that I am a human being who is not immune to diseases or illnesses.   The pain I live with, the fatigue and the depression because of it all,  is part of the human condition.

I didn’t feel my elbow for the first minute or so.  I hadn’t felt it yet when my son said, “Mom, uhh, you did something to your elbow.”

I lifted my head attempting to get up.  “Mom just lie there.  Did you hit your head?”  I wasn’t seeing stars but walking back home with my son walking behind me with our bikes I couldn’t move my arm.

“I think there is a rock in there,” my son said and that’s when I felt dizzy.  A rock in my elbow.  The thought of it was nauseating to me.  I’m used to pain but not this kind of pain.

My doctor who is gentle and understanding was on vacation when I went to get my stitch out.  The doctor I saw was not like him at all!  I think she thought I wanted pain pills but I told her I had plenty.  I wanted to know if I had hurt my back because it was hurting.  I asked her to examine it, which she did.

“I think this is fibromyalgia.  It’s definitely tissue related.  You’re thin and when you have a traumatic fall like this, with fibromyalgia,  it can…”  I don’t remember how she worded the rest but I didn’t need to hear the words.   They are all the same.

If pain is due to fibromyalgia then basically this means it can behave any way it wants to.  It might be there a week or six months.  It might be localized or widespread.

Sometimes I guess I wish the doctors would say — oh this is something we can fix — and give me a time frame as to when I will be feeling better or recovered.

Update on July 11, 1010 The doctor says that a ligament in my left shoulder and a tendon somewhere around the bicep were strained and pulled.  It still hurts when I move it certain ways.  I fell on October 31st, 2009.

An Ode to a Narcissist

“Some women can fake an orgasm. But some men can fake an entire relationship!” – Sharon Stone

I will tell you…

I will tell you I love you. I will tell you I am in love with you.
I will tell you over and over and over again and again.
I will tell you until you believe me.

I will always open doors for you, so you may think
I am a true gentleman.
I will run in the rain to my shiny car for an umbrella,
just for you, my sweet angel.

I will tell you how special you are. I will tell you again and again.
I will tell you how I am absolutely without a doubt sure that you are the one for me.
I will tell you this until you believe me.

I will give you nice gifts. I will tell you it is because you have lived without for so long,
I will tell you how it makes me happy
to see you enjoy these things in life.

I will tell you how I want to help you. I will tell you this
again and again.
I will tell you things that will make you dream of a better future.

I will tell you all the things that I can think of to make you give up on that other man,
the one who treats you with too much love.

I will do all I can to make you think you are the one for me,
that my love is known to me and real.

I will tell you who loves you when nobody else is there for you.

I will tell you not to worry if my love is real my dear,
again and again, over and over, I will tell.

I will tell you your doubts are to be abandoned,
I will tell you this each time you doubt my love.

I will tell you I can help you,
make your life easier.

I will tell you how I want to declare my love for you to your family,
“I will tell them how awesome you are.”

I will tell you how I will exclaim my love for you,
In the future, when I don’t have to hide you.

I will tell you I like your son and family,
I know they are so important to you.

I will tell you it is the truth once you finally start to believe,
all that I tell.

I will work hard to win your heart,
I can, I am very smart.

I will tell you I am doing fine, after that first time.

That first time when I feel like you are going to hurt me.

This — sweet angel — is when everything changes.

I will tell you a first lie,
a second, a third and more.

I will tell you and you will believe me,
then my sweet angel, it will be near the end.

I will tell you little things,
designed to burn a bit and sting.

I will tell you I feel mistreated,
hoping you may not see that it is you being played.

I will use this lie to leave you,
the telling has changed.

I will tell you I am leaving town.
I will tell you not to bother calling.
I will tell you more lies.

I will tell you the truth only when I think it might hurt you.

I will tell you that I almost had an encounter,
I will say that I had to stop because I thought of you.

I will think you must be a dumb little slow-talking country girl.
I can tell you anything and you will believe it!

You, however, will know, what I tell, is a lie, and you will hurt.
I forgot to tell you,
I am detached from my heart.
I am capable of not feeling.

I will tell you I do not feel important enough.
I will tell you how I feel second.

I will tell you how I fucked her.
I will tell you I got hard when I looked at her body.

I will tell you even when you start to cry.
I will tell you how you don’t like for me to lie.

I will tell you I enjoyed it.
I will tell you how I came inside of her.
I will tell you I came there, thinking of you.

You will be stunned.
I will feel like a stud.
I will tell you anything I feel like telling to make myself feel better.

I will tell you all about me because that is what this whole thing with you was,
about me.

I will not tell you that I used you.
I will not tell you how many lies I told to you.

I will tell you I am sorry,
as I walk away at 4 am, no plans to make amends.

I will tell you I probably assassinated one of your plants,
living plants you nurture and love.
I will tell you I had nothing to do with it, of course.

I will leave the broken pieces behind,
for you to pick up alone, after I am gone.

I must hurry to the church!
I will tell God I am there to help.

I wonder if God believes as easily as you,
my sweet angel?

 

by “dogkisses” 2009

All content on this page and in this blog is subject to A Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 United States License.

 

Thank you for visiting Dogkisses’s blog.

Fibromyalgia, Attitudes and Acceptance

The Buggy Ride

Find Something Fun to Do

Fibromyalgia, as with any serious and chronic illness, can drastically alter your life.  Mine has certainly changed.

I had a business planting flower gardens to attract butterflies, which I totally loved.  Being a butterfly (and hummingbird) gardener was a big part of my identity.  There were many things I identified with and didn’t know how much until I couldn’t do those things anymore.

I remember when physical pain first started to concern me.   I would go out to my garden every day to do something.  One day I noticed how stiff my joints were.  I bent over and felt pain in my hips.  Then it started hurting in my ankles.  It was a new type of pain that I had never experienced before.

I’d been bitten by a little deer tick earlier that summer.  Little did I know this might change my life.

One doctor said I might have fibromyalgia, even though hardly anyone talked about the condition at the time.  It was nearly a foreign word.

Due to inadequate health care where I was living, I didn’t get to see a specialist.

I had dealt with arduous episodes depression in the past.  I had already in many ways, gone through a process of elimination as to what I identified with in life.  I stopped my gardening business and later went back to college part-time.

I moved to a metropolitan area after the tick bite that summer when the joint pain had started.  I believed the health care would be better and I think it has been.

I was bitten by another tick in 2005 and I was infected with Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever.

The doctors diagnosed me with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and later, fibromyalgia as well.  By 2006 my life had turned upside down and illness defined every moment I lived.

Just about everything in my life has changed.

I can’t imagine, not as I write, what kind of job I could hold down with the levels of fatigue, brain fog and pain I’m living with.

I certainly can’t plant gardens anymore.

My hobbies are less active. My walks are slower.  I let my dogs walk me more, instead of me walking them for my cardiovascular workout the way I did before illness.  We go slower and stop more often.

Time is different too.  I can’t plan for events like I did before, which means I miss out on many things I once enjoyed doing.  I don’t know if I’ll be in pain two weeks from now or even tomorrow.  I could wake up so tired tomorrow morning that brushing my teeth will feel like I’m climbing a mountain.

I am grateful to receive disability benefits. I have health insurance.  It’s pretty hard making it on a low income.

Some people look down on those of us who receive disability benefits.  People complain about their taxes, but I pay taxes too.  Every day in some way I pay.

If a person can walk and talk then some people accuse her or him of being lazy, enjoying sitting home, doing nothing;  all just to get, “a check.”

The monthly income from disability benefits is important, but the health benefits and housing opportunities are a crucial part of disability benefits.

I was once a firefighter too.  Part of my identity had always been that I was physically very strong.  I was proud of this and enjoyed recreational activities, especially while raising my son.

Another part of my identity was being able to handle a lot of responsibility.  I was a single mother who worked hard and I burned the candle at both ends.

An expert in fibromyalgia told me this is the case with many people with this condition.  The majority of patients, he said, never were the kind of folks who sat around all day doing nothing.  Just the opposite for most of us.  We were athletic and go-getters.

I grew up in a very orderly and clean house, which is how I prefer things, but that’s one of those things that changes — preferences.  I’ve had to give up many of my preferences.

I hear all kinds of remarks from people who don’t understand what they can’t see.  I learned from having depression that having an invisible illness, such as fibromyalgia brings stigma and misunderstanding.  Many people don’t believe what they can’t see.

People say the weirdest things.

“I work in my yard (all day) because I have to.”

“I have to work everyday because I don’t have a choice.”

I stopped working because I didn’t have a choice.

“I wish I could get paid for feeling bad,” a neighbor told me.

“All you do is suck air,” a close relative remarked when learned that I was receiving disability benefits.

“You just get worse and worse don’t you.”  (Same relative).

“You sure do stay sick a lot.”  Lots of people have said that to me over the years.

Some people mock fibromyalgia.  Most people have no idea what it is.

Those of us suffering with invisible illnesses know that these attitudes and remarks are ignorant and not true, but they can still hurt.  Not only do they hurt, but they also cause us to withdraw into isolation.  We become alienated from society, our community and for some of us, from our family.

People with fibromyalgia often talk about having good days.  This means we have days when we wake up with some energy and less pain.  We can do more on these good days, which causes some people to think we’re faking illness.  If they see us on a good day, then we get accused of falsely claiming illness or disability to get out of work.

We’ve all heard people say, “You look just fine.”

A former doctor of mine once, during a frustrated conversation about pain, asked, “Where do you hurt?”

It was more of a statement than it was a question.  I didn’t know what to say.

“Well, my nose doesn’t hurt,” I answered.

She once referred me to a specialist for a digestive problem.  He was horrible!  He asked about the fibromyalgia, and then depression.  He was determined to believe that any problem I had, even the one I was there for, which was the result of an infectious virus, was all in my head; not neurological but psychological.

The doctor had suggested I go see the fibromyalgia specialist who had moved away.

“You look perfectly capable of driving four or five hours to me,” he said.  He failed to realize that I would have to go see the doctor and drive back home!

He continued and asked, “Did you walk here from the parking lot?”

“Yes,” I said, trying not to cry, but the tears were coming.

“Well, then you could drive four hours if you walked from the parking deck, and why are you crying?”

I had forgotten that I had instead ridden the minibus to the front door of the hospital from the parking lot.

“Why are you crying?” he asked again, sarcastically.

I told him I was sick, in pain, weak and tired.

I chose to change family doctors, never to see that specialist again and, my life has been much better ever since.

My current family physician understands fibromyalgia is a complex and painful condition.  He did suggest that I make a trip to the fibromyalgia specialist, but only when I was able.

I was finally able to go see the doctor.  I told him that my family physician wanted his advice.  He said to tell him he was doing the right thing by treating my pain.

He reminded me that it isn’t my fault that drugs, such as Lyrica and Cymbalta, made me sick.  Some patients cannot handle those drugs.  I’m one of them.  Some patients need tried and true pain medication, for pain.  Perhaps that is a little too simple for some doctors.

The specialist also said a patient should not be expected to live in pain when there is medication available to treat it.  He said it was neglect when doctors choose not to treat pain.

I told him about the remarks from my former doctors and nurses.  He said to stay away from those people adding with a compassionate tone and a bit of humor, “They are bad for fibromyalgia patients.”

He was a great doctor!

Even though we know more about fibromyalgia now than we did only a few years ago, there are still plenty of doctors and other medical professionals who will say just about anything other than, fibromyalgia hurts!

They’ll say things like, “It’s a label you do not want.”  They ought to say it’s a serious illness you do not want!

We’ve most likely all heard the phrase, “It’s a trash can diagnosis.”

I think many people do get wrongly diagnosed.  I’ve met a couple of people who said things like, “I had fibromyalgia for about three months.” Thinking

It’s hard to let go of all the things I used to love doing.  It’s hard accepting chronic illness.  It’s harder hearing hurtful remarks from family.

I have a few things I enjoy doing.  I started this blog, which I do so enjoy.

I love living with dogs.  They take me for walks and help me get through many hard times.

I have a “magic bike” and though I can’t ride it up hills or too far, it’s great fun feeling the wind on my face.  It reminds me of myself.

I hope if you or someone you love are living with chronic illnesses and conditions, that you can find something to do that makes your life easier and more meaningful.

Thanks for visiting Dogkisses’s blog.


dogkissesthat's a mighty cute dog!dogs never accuse you of faking anything


Top news

Say I love you

A Beautiful Life!

He called to say, “I love you.”   On a dreary sad day, during a long hard year, he called just to say… I love you — to me — his one and only, “favorite,” mom.

This is not top news.  This is no a current event.  Not a story.  Just a very short post about love.

by dogkisses♥

 

flowers are free

Original post removed by author of this blog.  Please feel free to explore what’s new on Dogkisses’s Blog at https://dogkisses.wordpress.com/.  

quite cheery under the blue sky and white clouds

  Thanks and hope to see you there!

Schizophrenia and community

Picture of an authentic Neapolitan Pizza Margh...

Image via Wikipedia

In Schizophrenia, I believe there is more to recovery than antipsychotic medications.

“Meaning, Mastery and Membership.  Without these people go nuts,” a former anthropology professor told our class one day.  “The three m(s),”  he called them.  I remember this because it made a lot of sense to me.  I really like things that make sense.

I’m not against using medication to treat symptoms of a mental illness, but it doesn’t make sense for this to be the only treatment method used.  I’m also not referring to an immediate mental health crisis.  I’m talking about the ongoing trials and tribulations of living with the symptoms of a mental illness.

I used to plant flower gardens to attract butterflies.  Butterflies are smart.  They would come when I arrived on the scene with potted plants that hadn’t even bloomed yet.  They would wait, for days and days, while I dug holes and prepared gardens.  Many times they would drink from the sweat on my shoulders, hanging out with me while I worked.  I felt good about myself when I planted those gardens.

I found personal meaning and a sense of mastery when they came to drink nectar from the flowers they had waited for, that I planted for them, and sometimes to lay their eggs on the glorious Bronze Fennel.

Mastery refers to the experience of being capable of doing something.   We don’t have to literally be masters or experts.  Being good at something of course gives us a sense of mastery, but also believing we can learn something new or get better at something we are interested in can also be empowering this way.

Membership is about having a sense of belonging.  Getting paid for my gardens included me in the work force.  I felt too that I had a place in my community as a business owner with a service that I felt good about.

In my personal experience, with my son and other adult children who have schizophrenia, work is either minimal or absent.

I think it’s true that if you work in a career or at a job doing something you enjoy, it’s more likely you’ll be happy and successful.  This is especially important for people who struggle with a thought disorder.  There is a symptom called disorganized thinking.   It is very much the same as being in a room where nothing has a place, a lot like my son’s apartment.  It’s completely overwhelming.

It only makes sense, at least to me, that he would succeed in an area that allows for free thinking, creativity, and time for him to focus on one thing at a time.

He got fired from a pizza parlor because the manager said he took too much time making the pies.  My son said he couldn’t make them unless he could make them just right and that the people deserved better than what they were getting.  He liked to decorate the edges and make sure the crust was perfect.  This took time he said.  He was passionate about the pizzas.

He had made pizzas before, when he was only seventeen.  His pizzas were famous among the locals and with the manager for being the biggest pies in town.  Once I went there and ordered one with artichokes.  The owner, who liked my son’s enthusiasm, laughed that night saying that there weren’t any artichokes left.  They had all gone on my pizza.  My son was proud, watching me as I ate so heartily.

This symptom of disorganized thinking is the main reason my son is not making pizzas as I write, along with the fact that most managers will not allow him to create his own masterpieces.  If I had the money I’d open him a pizza place.  It would have to be known for the biggest pies in town so he could pay the overhead.

There are residential therapeutic living centers in the northern and western part of the US, along with one in the southeast that has become popular.   Some of them have farms and animals.  Some of them teach certain trades or skills.  Unfortunately they are expensive.

I honestly wish that our local neuroscience teaching hospital included a residential living place for the patients who are able to leave and expected to survive in the community.  A place where meaning, mastery and membership could be cultivated and nurtured.  I wish we expected the patients leaving the hospitals and institutions to thrive and not just survive, even as I am certain that every single day my son survives is a blessed day.

Sometimes surviving each day is the very best you can hope for.  I understand that.  Most of my life is like that.

I know it’s dreamy to imagine a place, such as a residential healing farm, as being part of modern-day America’s approach to treating mental illness, but I think it’s a reasonable and rational imagining.

People who have the money are paying and saying wonderful things about some of the therapeutic residential living centers.  Plus, modern medicine doesn’t have illnesses such as schizophrenia figured out.  Recent studies show that being a friend to a person with a mental illness can change brain chemistry.  Well, I figured that all along.

We are told by psychiatrists that schizophrenia is a chemical imbalance in the brain and that antipsychotics are the only answer.  We are told schizophrenia is a lifetime brain disease.  This may all be true, but it doesn’t mean these are laws written in stone or that they apply to every individual diagnosed.

I think there is more to treatment, healing and rehabilitation than medication alone.

Meaning, Mastery and Membership.  We all need a healthy dose of each.


Thank you for visiting my blog.

I’m a just a mother with a few dreamy dreams.

I am not a doctor, therapist or medical professional of any kind.  I am not attempting to give advice about treatment of a mental illness.

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I AM FREE, an ode to my beloved companion

Remembering Free, with Love


This is Free in her element.
Resting in between swims along the river. Free was my companion, a loved family member, my son’s best buddy and the greatest teacher in life I’ve ever known.  I loved Free and I will always miss her.

Free, resting on rock beside, "Little" Wilson Creek

Free blessed this earth from 1993 - 2006 and forever lives in my heart

 

I AM FREE

I once had four legs with webbed paws.

I swam in rivers, lakes, ponds and the ocean.

I plopped down in big ‘ol dirty mud puddles too.

I absolutely loved water!

I fetched sticks and balls

and anything my human friends would throw for me.

I loved it on earth!

I had a great human mom and a

terrific big brother to play with me.

I went camping and traveled around the country

with my human family.

We had lots of fun!

I loved them very much and they loved me too.

I once ran so fast into a stick

that I had to have surgery.

I was very enthusiastic about fetching!

I swam in nearly every river in the southeastern

United States.

I camped in most national forests.

I went all the way to New Mexico

and once lived on a horse farm in Texas.

I did lots of fun things during my life on earth.

I totally digged food and raw meat bones!

I ate all sorts of things that my human family

thought I shouldn’t have.

I once ate an entire bag of Halloween candy.

Chocolate, caramel, suckers, chewing gum,

even the paper.

I liked everything in the bag

except for the very hot red balls.

I tried each one but they were no fun.

I was a very good girl

but I did steal toys from neighbors.

I was kind of spoiled

and as I got older I didn’t care much

for other four-leggeds in my territory.

I did like one in particular.

I loved visiting her

and running in her grass.

She lived on a farm

at my human aunt’s house,

so I guess we were first

cousins through human relation.

I lived on earth almost 13 years.

That’s almost 90 human years!

I enjoyed my life and loved my family

I will tell of that

and our wonderful years together.

I want my human family to remember our fun times.

I want them happy when they think of me.

I am Free.


dogkisses, 2006 Red heart

From the brain to the heart

invisible pathway

I was connected to the computer through a wire with a clamp attached to the tip of my index finger.   I thought about what I’m grateful for, particularly the unconditional love and companionship I feel from my furry little angels with four legs.

As I talked about my dogs the computer screen generated colors on several graphs.  Talking about them created intense colors of purple, violet, orange and blue.

The biofeedback therapist was enthusiastic about her work.  “Look!  Look how much the graphs change when you talk about your dogs!”

There was one column on the computer screen that detected activity in an, “invisible pathway” from the brain to the heart.  Talking about my dogs filled this column with a deep purple color.  

The therapist laughed and said she knew an invisible pathway sounded silly, but I didn’t care.  I’m interested in learning how to reduce physical pain and calm my spirit.  

I think the essence of biofeedback is about creating awareness of changes in the body when one is faced with stress and, changes when one actively chooses to calm the body, such as intentionally experiencing gratitude.

Outside of the sessions, I started to notice the changes in my body when I felt upset.   A rising heart rate, a familiar feeling in my gut that comes with anxiety, or the start of a negative thought pattern.  Being aware of the physical changes in my body help me to back up for a second.  It helps to see the changes before they get out of control, although I haven’t by any means mastered this practice.

Living with chronic illnesses means I need to lessen any stress that I can.  I may not be able to change circumstances, but I do have some control over how I respond to the stresses.  If I can slow down enough in a highly stressful situation to take slower breaths, then I can hopefully better choose my battles.

If I see myself falling quickly into depression, sometimes I’m able to think my way out of going too far down or staying down too long.

“You have to think grateful thoughts,” the biofeedback therapist told me.  “Positive thinking does not produce the same effects as does grateful thinking.”

I think of my dogs when I want an instant dose of gratitude.  Living with chronic illnesses has shaped my life in a way that isn’t always easy to accept.  Dogs offer an unconditional kind of love and understanding that’s like a golden elixir to my spirit.

Practicing gratitude helps me with depression.  It helps me to feel more accepting about things that I cannot control.  Feeling grateful helps me keep my chin up.

Thanks for visiting Dogkisses’s blog!

Image link:

http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Descartes-reflex.JPG