Periodically days come along where I have to pretend the whole world doesn’t exist. I often go too many days in a row pushing myself too hard, ignoring the warning signs that a crash is coming. There wasn’t an actual crash today, only because I finally took the time my body needed to regroup. I did the least amount I could get away with. Stayed home. No major cleaning projects. Minimal cooking. TV stayed off most of the day, in favor of mostly just reading and listening to music. When the early afternoon slump hit, I lay down for a nap. But pain still found me.
My particular flavor of chronic pain usually involves the sensation that my blood is composed primarily of tiny needles. I feel it most keenly in my face, forearms, and backs of my hands, but on days like today, when the cumulative effects of over-doing it reach a certain threshold, it gets me all over. I suppose there are medications that would dull the tingling and burning, but I refuse to live my life numbed like that. I find it preferable to just slow down and rest to stop the pain. It does work, too. It’s basically bedtime now, and I only have occasional little stings, and they don’t last long.
Of course, I had the best little nurses a chronic pain sufferer could want. When I had my nap, Athena came up and grabbed my hand tightly. As I lay in bed reading before starting writing just now, Alfred came up and inserted himself between me and the tablet. They have tag-teamed care of me all day. I’d be cool with offering them more than half the credit for me feeling rested and improved as the day closes out.
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