The Agony of The Feet

When you have Fibromyalgia, you have good days and bad days.

Today has been an extremely bad day.  

For the last several months, 6 to be exact, from the moment I get up in the morning until I fall into a restless sleep I have pain. Sometimes the pain is like a dull ache that I can push to the back of my mind.  Never forgetting that it is there, but pushing it down enough to function in the day to day way that my family depends on.

Then there are the days like today. I wake up in the morning and I ache from head to toe in an unrelievable way. My head hurts with a fury that has no limits, my shoulders and neck hurt from spasms that never end, my entire body hurts to touch, even the touch of my clothing on it, and worst of all my feet hurt so bad that I cringe every time I know that I must put them on the floor and actually bear my own weight.

On a good day my feet are only sore like they are after you walk a long way. But on a bad day, like today, just sitting still is agony, but walking is excruciating. Like stepping on a thousand tiny needles.

On a good day, I can function. On a bad day it takes everything that I am made of not to just crawl back in the bed and call in sick to life. But they don’t really let you call in sick to living. My kids still need me. My chickens still need to be fed. The dog still needs to be let out into the yard or my carpet will become littered with special little surprises. And in the interest of all concerned, I still need to force myself to stand in a stream of water and wash myself. My husband most especially appreciates that one.

I’m tired.

Y’all Come Back when I’m feeling better.




November 6, 2009. Notebook.

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