Days like this are No Fun At All, but they are also unavoidable and necessary. I don't know what I would do if I didn't have the occupational flexibility to react to them properly.
I've been saying for a couple weeks now that I was operating well above my maximum safe capacity. I knew it would catch up with me, and right on schedule, today it did. I probably would have been okay for another day or two if yesterday's long tour of Loveland with new clients hadn't been on a bright sunny day. I burned myself up not only being in the sun, but also being "on" for the new people, being energetic and in talk-mode for five hours. Before I had even fully opened my eyes this morning, I knew how this day was going to go. The first thing I did at dawn, after letting the dogs outside, was to take a Tramadol. I didn't even wait for the coffee to brew before that was down. I waited most of the morning for it to kick in, and when everything still hurt by 1 in the afternoon, I took another. It helped, but only marginally. It probably would have done more if I hadn't spent a couple of hours trying to reconstruct my kitchen, pantry, and utility closet after pulling damn near everything I own out and sorting through it to keep, trash, or donate (well, partially on that part -- I think I got in over my head). Eventually the meds and the autoimmune fatigue made me feel like my face was sliding off of my skull, and I had to take a super uncomfortable nap that stretched past animal dinner time, so I was in trouble with the family when I woke up just before 6.
I know everyone who has ever so much as glanced at Facebook has seen memes that tell you what not to say to people with chronic illnesses. Trust me when I say, "Gee, I wish *I* could stay home in my pajamas and do nothing all day" is one of those things you should never, ever utter to someone who is flaring. It is not as much fun as you think it is. I am not just kicked back enjoying myself on days like this. Instead, I'm thinking of colorful ways to explain how my blood feels like battery acid with an electric current running through it, touching every cell in my body, without resorting to just one long string of obscenities that would make even my creatively cussing daughters flinch. I hurt too much even to sit and soak in the hot tub. Try that on for size. There's a reason I have swapped out almost my entire wardrobe for the softest and stretchiest microfiber clothes I can find. The thought of sturdy, scratchy fabrics touching my skin has become more than I can bear, and it goes way beyond the decades-long battle of whether to use dryer sheets that Mr S-P and I have had since the 1980s. Today was bad enough that I couldn't shower or brush my teeth either. The only reason I had a meal today was that yesterday I thought ahead and made a huge amount of my favorite casserole I learned from my grandma Eleanor (ground beef, tomatoes, okra, corn, rice, and a ton of black pepper), so that I'd have leftovers for a day or two. I did manage a couple cups of coffee, but I am true to my Reynolds roots -- coffee is not optional.
I have things I'd like to do tomorrow, so I hope this was a short down day. I just don't know what to expect for tomorrow. A few days ago I was showing off the lovely big blooms on my Sugar Moon rose bush. Today I feel exactly like those blooms look now, wilted and kind of burned around the edges. Pretty sure the faded roses smell better than I do right now though.
No comments:
Post a Comment