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Knocked Over By A Feather

IT WAS A BIG FEATHER…

Totally Tubular

After almost 4 years of blogging, I have many older posts that I feel deserve resharing. Occasionally, I will do a Rerun Sunday. This is one of my favorites from two years ago.

You haven’t really lived until you’ve been stuck inside a tube.

I don’t recall who’s idea it was, but when my daughter turned 4, we had a party for her at the one and only Chuck E. Cheese. You know, the place where a kid can be a kid and an adult can have a migraine.

I used to love the place myself when I was young, especially the balls.

Turns out, the day we went the balls were shut down because some kid had taken a tinkle in there. I was sad, but there was much fun to be had regardless. I had some decent coinage and the pizza almost passed for edible.

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I noticed that the new and improved CEC had Sky Tubes that ran throughout the entire building and for some reason I decided that it would be a gas to join my daughter and the other kids. The whole works reminded me of a giant hamster paradise and it looked like fun. I was still young and spry, so I figured why the fuck not?

What I didn’t take into consideration was the fact that I was not a kid. I hadn’t been a kid for a long ass time. The tubes were not made to accommodate a grown woman who had a chocolate chip cookie addiction. Instead of just accepting the fact that I had missed out on such an exciting and modern way to burn off excess energy, I did what I now consider to be one of my most embarrassing moments in a public place.

I crouched down and entered the tube.

From behind.

I made it about 10 crawls before I realized I was in trouble. Not only was I slow and holding up the line, but I was steadily realizing that my body was no longer designed to be twisted and turned like a pretzel. Not like it ever really had, but that is for another time, maybe.

Then, like a beacon of strength, out of one of the portholes I saw the adults in my party watching me with admiration. I was one of those cool moms who got right down and dirty with the children.

Hells yeah.

Later I was to find out they were actually mesmerized by my stupidity.

I plodded on, until finally I made it to a junction that I just could not pass. Unless one of the little kiddies ran to fetch me a stick of butter and a crowbar, I was staying put. Even then, I still don’t think I could have made it through without having cracked some detrimental part of my body.

Joints were made to go one way, unless you were Harry Houdini or someone else within his skill bracket.

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Maybe if you…ah, fuck it.

I am not claustrophobic, but I started having a panic attack right there. The tubes were all so bright and colorful. They mocked me with taunts. The little moppet directly behind me patted me on the bum, a bit harder than I thought was necessary.

“Come on lady, hurry up!”

In hindsight I should have farted on him, but that wouldn’t have been very nice of me, hmm?

I knew the only way out was to go back from whence I came, so I took a deep breath.

“Okay, kid. Back it up.”

I couldn’t see him from my particular standpoint at that moment, but I assume his little mouth gaped open.

“Huh?”

“I can’t keep going, I don’t fit. So, back it up. Please.”

I should have offered him a few Chuck tokens for his assistance. A few games of Whack-a-mole makes everything better.

Very slowly, I made the backwards crawl to freedom.

Ah, sweet fucking freedom.

Then I noticed that almost all the parents and children in attendance that day were staring at me oddly. Some were laughing, while others just looked disturbed and disgusted. I had nothing to say, so I just made my way back to the table and stuffed my face with suddenly delicious pizza, cardboard crust and all.

Now, the most I will do is play hide and seek.

I’ll hide.

How to mix a fibromyalgia cocktail

My post yesterday was pretty heavy. I’ve been dealing with a wicked awful fibro flare this past week, plus some personal issues. I’m not in the greatest mood, you could say. I’m not apologizing for it, just explaining why I was so morbid.

Here’s something funny, just for shits and giggles.

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I get a little stir crazy being stuck at home. I did finally manage to get to the drugstore yesterday to buy a few things. The big grocery store was not happening, so I end up overpaying for some things out of convenience, like toilet paper.

Because newspaper just doesn’t do the job.

I like to shop by myself without my husband’s help, because I am still independent deep down inside. It really rustles my feathers that I need so much assistance doing normal tasks.

My husband tries really hard to make my life easier. He made me eggs, and toast this morning. I was halfway through eating when all of a sudden I felt like I had to throw up.

“I feel like I poisoned you!” he said after I came out of the bathroom.

I had to reassure him that it wasn’t his fault. Food just hits me wrong sometimes.

My pain has lessened from a level 8 to a tolerable 4. My muscles are not twitching badly, at least not yet. I can toodle around the house without too much discomfort. I am still lethargic, but not as foggy headed. My anxiety is ramped up, though. I am trying not to take an anxiety pill, but I might have to.

I updated my status on Facebook the other day with this little gem:

How to mix a fibromyalgia cocktail:
Take 10mg of vicodin, a naproxen, a flexeril, and 2 klonopin. Swallow with liquid of your choice.

If that doesn’t tell you that I was in a world of hurt, I don’t know what else could.

All I can do is take it a day at a time.

Thanks for reading what I write, even when it’s as dark as Satan’s asshole.

A Candid Conversation About Fibromyalgia

Fibromyalgia, in and of itself, is not a terminal illness.

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But it will most certainly shorten your lifespan, and I will explain why.

  • Because of being in pain, and having extreme fatigue, plus a host of other mysterious symptoms that differ from person to person, a sedentary lifestyle will likely occur. And we all know that being exercise resistant is an unhealthy way to live, since Nike says to just do it. But, what if we can’t?
  • The more we sit around resting, the more our bodies become open to a slew of other health conditions, such as heart disease, and diabetes, which will kill you if left unattended.
  • People with fibromyalgia tend to be more prone to other side illnesses, and becoming overweight, with a lessening of muscle mass, and strength.
  • Depression is a highly common co-conspirator with fibromyalgia, which adds to the likelihood of suicidal thoughts, and behaviours. It’s fairly difficult to be happy, and lighthearted when you are in pain, feeling like a shit-kabob most of the time, unless you are a superhero.
  • I personally do not wish to live to a ripe old age. I will be battling this monster of an illness for the rest of my days, unless they find a cure. Another 20-30 years of living my life like this does not appeal to me. Although I am thankfully not suicidal at the moment, it could easily happen again sometime in my future.

So no, having fibromyalgia can’t kill a person by itself. When someone says thank God it’s not terminal, I just shake my head sadly.

There are some days when I wish that it was. 

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