When Your Internal Clock is Off...WAY Off

In the beginning of July I hurt my back. I hurt it bad enough that for the next 2 to 3 days I lived on painkillers, muscle relaxers, ice packs and heating pads. Ever since then I have had trouble sleeping. Before this happened I was coming off of an early morning work schedule. I had to be at work at 6 am, so even though I had stopped working a couple of months prior to our move, I was still up and around by 7 am. After living on painkillers for several days, painkillers that completely knocked me out, I was going to bed late, and waking up later.

Since then I have tried forcing myself to go to sleep earlier. Result: me tossing and turning until 4 am. Did you know that if you hold your hand up to the light of your alarm clock your nails look like you have a blue french manicure? Neither did I. I do now.

I tried just laying down a couple of hours before I wanted to fall asleep and reading myself to sleep: Result: an out of control book budget. I can read for hours. I can read fast. Reading for hours just results in more books read, not earlier sleep.

I tried forcing myself to get up super early, so I would be tired at a normal bedtime. Result: falling asleep for 3 hours in the middle of the afternoon. There is only so much the human body can do on 2 hours of sleep when there is no adrenaline involved, and apparently all this human body can do is stare uncomprehendingly at the television, or, I don't know, the WALL, until the will to stay awake loses to the force that is “The Sandman”.

I even tried over the counter sleeping pills. Do you know what those things are??? Benedryl. Do you know what Benedryl does to me? It knocks; me out, just like the painkillers. The problem? The painkillers and the sleeping pills knock me out for waaaay too long. Then when I am finally able to move the lead weights that are my arms and legs, I am groggy. Super groggy. That results in absolutely nothing getting done.

So, I am back to just kind of hoping I will miraculously start to get tired at a normal, reasonable hour. That results in days like today.

Get up very late.

Feel guilty for getting up late even though I slept for a very normal 8 hours—almost to the minute.

Have a general feeling of lethargy all day long while trying to convince myself to get some chores done.

Start becoming clear minded at about 9 pm.

Between 11 pm and 12:30 am:
Complete 2 loads of laundry, including ironing.
Vacuum carpets
Sweep and mop kitchen, entry way and bathrooms
Clean master bathroom
Hang pictures
Write blog post
Screw down door organizer in pantry
Feel really, really awake!! REALLY awake!
Give up on ever sleeping again.

Around 3 am decide to read in bed by the light of my cell phone.

4-4:30 am Finally fall asleep.

Start all over again.

I am really starting to wonder if God is trying to tell me that my next job will be the night shift!

Cymbalta: Or How My Husband Gets to Remain Sane Without Locking Me Up and Throwing Away the Key

And he doesn't even have to take it. That's how it works in our family. I *suffer* from second hand sleep apnea. (My own term for being the partner of someone who has sleep apnea.) He reaps the benefits of a wife on Cymbalta. I don't really see how that is quite fair. Suffer/reaps the benefits. Do you see the issue here? That's okay, though, because I have learned in the last week that if my husband dies before me I am moving to Australia to find the man of my dreams--literally. The man who invented the sleep apnea machine.

Of course, the drawback to being able to have dreams is the Cymbalta. I have some crazy, stressed out dreams. The latest included me, on a team trying to make a beautiful two dimensional wedding dress cookie out of sugar cookie dough.

The problem with these dreams is this: In the beginning of the dream I am "all that!". I can make the most beautiful pastry you have ever seen! Then the mechanics start-somehow I make dough. Then somehow I roll out this dough into a perfect rectangle. Then I realize my teammates aren't helping me. Now, I am mad! Why is no one helping me?! This is supposed to be a team effort! Wait! What are they doing? Oh no, they are performing CPR. I must help, but the judge is here telling me to hurry up I am running out of time. So, I do what all rational people would do and continue to roll out teeny tiny layers to put on my wedding dress cookie.

It's about this time that I "remember" that I have no idea how to decorate cakes, cookies, or pastries of any sort. Not only that, but I am not artistic, at all! I am not able to make whatever it is in my mind come out of my fingers. This is not good! Then I look over and one of the judges has decided to "help me" with my cookie by drawing the outline of some Picasso-esque face with black piping gel all over my cookie. WHY?! I don't know, but she totally ruined my chance of winning a car.

Now everyone wins a car, but me. :( Then I notice the car my friend chooses has a big black dent and scrape along the side like it was his by a burning softball. I try desperately to get her to choose another car, but the cars are all like that now. They weren't a minute ago. HEY! These contest organizers are trying to cheat us out of our brand new cars!

Now. Don't you feel rested? Me neither. I wake up trying to figure out how to make the cookie. Oh, and the person receiving the CPR? Don't know. Never bothered to even check up on the guy because in my dreams I am compassionate like that.

So, I get the crazy dreams, but Michael gets the wife who does not sit in the car stressing over the fact that he is driving in the left lane and we have to turn right in just 3 miles. Hello! Don't you see we need to turn? And there are other cars! In the right lane! If we wait we may never get over! And you know what happens if we don't get over! No, we don't turn around. How are we going to turn around when the world has just ended?! We really need to get over now! After all we are turning in just 2.5 miles. Do you see my finger tapping against the door frame? It means you are not doing it the way *I* would!! And that is just wrong!

He loved driving with me.

Michael also gets the wife who gets dressed, puts on make up, drives 20 minutes to a restaurant, and will, get this, get out of the car! Even when there are more than like 3 other cars in the parking lot. I no longer get somewhere and just freeze in my seat like if I go in there something terrible is going to happen. We may not know it, but believe me it will happen.

I am surprised he never starved.

The most surprising effect has been that I even went to the gym. By myself. 5 times a week. For several months before we moved. That is a miracle unto itself! Now that was a gym I was somewhat familiar with. Now, I just need to find one here.

Hmmm. Come to think of it this was good for him. I wonder why he doesn't have cut abs?

Oh, AND, I can actually relax! Some. I don't feel the need to be doing *something* from the time I get up, until the time I go to bed. This is big! Just ask Michael. I mean do you know how hard it is to watch a football game when someone has decided they must dust the entertainment stand right now. Like really right now or the dust might form a coalition and take us all out. Or the carpet must be vacuumed. Also right now! I mean, if the NFL would just call me before they set up their playing schedule maybe we could work something out. But no, they don't care that some grass just fell off of someone's shoe.

Of course, now he wishes I would stand in front of the television and clean. Have you seen the Cowboys play this year?

So, thanks to Cymbalta I get crazy dreams, and Michael loses crazy wife. Too cool!

By the way, I was actually put on Cymbalta in order to help control the Fibromyalgia pain. It is only been discovered that I actually, certifiably have anxiety issues because of how much I have changed since being put on the Cymbalta. I thought this was normal, but in a way I feel like my world is opening up. And I have learned 2 things you don't want to hear from your doctor. 1. When describing your reaction to being in the "wrong lane of traffic: "No, that's not "normal". Not in my world." and 2. When awaiting blood test results: "You are one sick pup!"

Fibro Friday: Weeks 3 and 4: totally slacking

The last two weeks have been a struggle. Towards the end of week 3 I started going in to a flare.

I noticed this time that the flare seemed to start with burning in my shins. Painful, can't ignore it burning. Kind of like, or maybe exactly like, shin splints. This was followed by extreme exhaustion. Cooking fell by the wayside, and my housework was the bare minimum. It was a struggle first of all to get out of bed, and once out to stay awake. After the exhaustion was foot pain. I always have heel pain, but this was throughout the entire soul of my foot and in the tendons.

I also noticed increased "fibro fog". This was most noticeable in my speech patterns. I was constantly stopping in the middle of a sentence because I just couldn't find the word. I know this can be normal, but not when it happens this much.

My last observation is how much the cold weather effects my pain. I suspected before, but I was conscious of it this time, so I am trying to make sure to keep warm as soon as I notice I am chilled. Hopefully that will help some, too.

During this past week, week 4, the major symptoms started to subside. They actually started to subside in the same order I noticed them coming on. I didn't really expect that. I finally started getting some energy back, and I was able to reorganize the office earlier in the week, and do some of the deeper cleaning throughout the week.

Today I started back with the bike riding. One time around the block today. My thighs are a bit sore, but I have high hopes that I will be able to get further with it this month than last month.

I plan is still to learn to be my best with this "disease". I guess that will have to start with becoming aware of what is going on with my body.

I Smell Dead People

Ok, I don't really smell dead people, but I smell everything else. This causes some tension in our house since most of the time I am the only one that can smell the horrendous odor that is emanating from...well, somewhere. We have many conversations that go something like this:

Me: Do you smell that?

Michael: Smell what?

Me: (Crinkling nose) That smell. It stinks!

Michael: There is no smell.

Me: Yes there is! It's coming from...over there...somewhere.

Michael: You mean that field of cows we drove by? Three days ago?

Me: Yes! Yes! That's it! Where's the candle? We need to light the candle! We need to light the candle and put it close to my nose! Hurry! Please, I can't handle the smell anymore!!

Michael: (Getting a candle and shaking his head) Do you mind telling me when, exactly, in the 20+ years we've been married you crossed over the line into certifiably insane? It was so gradual I'm not sure when it happened.

Me: (sticks tongue out and pouts while breathing in candle air)



It's very annoying this super power of smell. My poor husband can only eat fish at a restaurant, out of town, after I die. That is really sad because the man loves fish...and shellfish...and cabbage. You know, all the stinky stuff. I can smell it for days. I think it hangs around in my nose just trying to make me ill. You would think that the fish would love me since I don't want anyone around me to eat them, but apparently they want to be eaten because they insist on torturing me with their smell. I just want to say, "I wanted to save you! Why don't you go torture HIM?!"

I also have to be very careful when I am cooking to not smell the raw meat. If I smell the raw meat, then I can't eat the cooked meat. One can only survive on Golden Grahams and Frosted Mini
Wheats for so long.

On the other hand, my wonderful sense of smell could come in very handy. It's a good thing our son doesn't smoke because who wants their mother marching through the school with her head looking like an expanding red balloon, and her body shaking uncontrollably while screaming (Yes, I mean screaming, not yelling. Yelling isn't forceful enough.) "WHAT were you thinking?!"

Then again, if he ever wanted to get rid of me, and send me to prison, all he would have to do is call the police, and tell them I assaulted him with my big head that just blew up and shot pieces of brain and shards of skull at him. I mean, who would the judge believe? 1. Soft-spoken, matter-of-fact, calm young man with an actual hair cut, or 2. Crazy, out of control, screaming woman who they suspect might be auditioning for the token psycho on the "Housewives of Crazyville"? Not that I would care because my brain already blew up, so there!

Don'cha Hate it When...

You get an idea in your head, run to the store to get what you need, and then when you get home realize you don't really have everything you need?!

This would probably happen a lot less if I would stick to one idea at a time, but one idea usually gives birth to another, and then another. I tell you ideas are like rabbits. You start with 1 or 2 and end up with enough to feed an army.

Like today. I went shopping with 2 ideas in mind. 1. I want to refinish the old, wooden accordion style sewing box I scored at Goodwill yesterday for only 4 bucks, and 2. I wanted to try to find a way to hide the border that is in my dining room. Not that the border isn't fabulous...or at least I'm sure it was when it was new...in the 80's!!

But I ended up looking for more ideas: 1. Paint for the sewing box. 2. "Something" for the border. 3.End tables for my living room. 4. Something to contain the keys, notes, and pocket debris that is growing on my bookshelf like mold. and 5. My continuing search for something to use as a game table in my living room.

I ended up with 1. Paint for the sewing box. 2. A big, fat nothing on the border. 3.Nothing I was willing to spend the money on for end tables. 4. More ideas for what to do with the moldy debris on my bookshelf. (Which reminds me, I want to repaint that too.) 5. 3 possibilities for the game table, so, of course, that meant nothing on the game table.

So after 2 hours of shopping and 5 different ideas boiling in my brain, I have a can of Kilz and some spray paint for the sewing box. I'm very happy that I can get started on one of my projects.

We get home, Michael starts the grill for dinner, and I......pull 2 silvery metal "art" pieces off of my wall and prime them. Not the sewing box, but things that were already on my wall. Then after dinner I go to paint them with acrylic paint. I'm not sure exactly what color I want to go with, but I choose one and start to paint discover I. HAVE. NO. PAINTBRUSHES! Not even one. Now I have to wait until tomorrow after Brendan's PT appointment to paint.

In the infamous words of Stephanie Tanner, "HOW RUUUUDE". (Said with major ATTITUDE!)

Now, I will just have to study.

Fibro Friday: Week 2 Still slow, but picking up speed

It's not my plan to only do the fibro posts, but another week has passed me by, and it is Friday again.

This week I wasn't as good about doing the back exercises. I believe I only did them once this week... Insert self flagellation with a wet noodle... I did notice on that one day that the "my body is trying to disconnect at my lower spine" feeling was not as bad. It still hurt, but I did notice an improvement.

I was actually better at bike riding...Insert self adulation with pats on the back...I actually rode the bike 3 times this week, and progressively increased the distance. I only had mild muscle pain, but my hips hurt quite a bit afterwards. They hurt to the point that I was having trouble sleeping. I happened to have a follow up with the spine doctor today, so I mentioned it to him. He thinks it might be pelvic girdle displacement, so I need to look up exercises to help with that now.

The bad news is I decided to start a flare today. It's loads of fun. You should give it a try. I seem to have a pattern that coincides with my menstrual cycle...ps. enter dripping sarcasm after the word fun...

My shins are burning, my knees hurt, the joint in my right thumb hurts when I use it,my upper back is sore, my feet are more sensitive and my head is killing me. I also learned I had a slight fever of 99.1 when I went to the doctor. I think I will have to start taking my temperature to see if there is a correlation. Especially since when I went to the doctor, I felt fine. It was about 4-5 hours later that I started to feel bad.

My hope is that when I look back on this in the next few months that the level of symptoms will be lessened, and the number of symptoms will also be lower.

Fibro Friday: Week 1--Starting out Sloooooow

Week one of trying to pull myself out of this funk that is Fibromyalgia. I don't know how much of this will be a head game, or how much of this will be physical, but whatever it is the journey has officially started.

This week is working on starting a routine, and starting it slowly. Very slowly. I don't want to be beat before I start which is often the case.

So here is how it went for my first partial week(next week will be a full week, but since I started on Sunday...:

3 times this week I did 3 sets of 5 different back exercises given to me by my spine specialist. The purpose of these exercises is to strengthen my lower back and abs, as well as, to help with my herniated disc.

Twice this week I rode my bike. My bike that now has a huuuuuge wide load seat on it. A seat that does not hurt my sit bones for weeks after a ride. Really weeks, I'm not kidding. It's like someone decided to see how deep of a bruise they could cause and called it a bike seat. Does the seat look all sleek and cool like the torture seat, no, but with the unsleek and uncool seat maybe I can look sleek and cool, and I think that is a fair trade off.

The bike riding and the back exercises did have some painful repercussions, but nothing I couldn't handle. The worst was the leg and hip pain at night when I was trying to sleep. I felt like there was a distinct horizontal line right at my hips. Above the line was fine, below the line could have fallen off of my body and I would have appreciated the reprieve.

To sum it up:

3 days 3 sets of 5 back exercises* resulting in sharp back pain, but not so intense that I could not function. 4 of 10.

2 days moderate pace 1/2 mile bike ride. No immediate pain, but 6 of 10 later that night that caused inability to sleep.

3 pounds lost.

*Found in "Ishmael's Care of the Back", 4th edition by Brian Krabak, MD, MBA and Brandee Waite, MD.