Fog

Fibrofog--I need a foghorn on my head. Today is really weird--although so was yesterday, come to think of it. My Google account got hacked. Mine? Who would bother with mine? I can hardly get enthused about it myself. My life is dull, dull, dull, and I like it like that.

I don't do really well with rapid-change environments, stress, Thursdays, and weather changes. I can blow out all the stops in an emergency--my mother had a heart attack, and just for the heck of it, a stroke following the procedure to place 4 stents; I went with her in the ambulance to Albuquerque, and stayed up there with her 6 days--normally, it takes 2 days, but they forgot about her, looked only at her age, and left her to lie around without a bath for 4 days--enough, don't get me started.

So I've stayed surface-side until she's back on her feet, which she is, remarkably so, and in fact, she sneaks around with her cane instead of her four-wheeled strolly-thing that the cat likes to ride on. But my heavily-guarded stamina took a real beating and I'm blogging now because I may be down for the count shortly. This morning I woke up feeling like small people with geology hammers and and other blunt instruments had been pounding me all night. Ah, back to normal. I thought everyone felt this lousey waking up for years, and it turns out they don't. Sheeseh--what did I do, miss the memo? Done whinging for now. TTYL and a refuah schlema for everyone hurting.

One giant step for mankind, one pratfall for fibromaniac

Thank you, Deb dV., for getting me onto a more user-friendly platform (I hope:)(I may not be able to get there from here)! I have to say at the outset that my blogging will be blotchy--I never know when or if I can marshall thought enough to be coherent. I have a sneaking suspicion that I may be somnambulowriting, but I can't be sure. Ink stains used to give it away, but the computer keyboard keeps its secrets...
I do know I sometimes cook in my sleep (oh, all right, microwave in my sleep--I don't cook awake, either). Waking up to strange things like a mostly-demolished dish of cooked broccoli and cottage cheese next to me has been known to happen. It's probably a good thing my husband and I more or less banned chocolate from the household staples. I have been known to gnaw on baking chocolate (sob!).
I forget to take my medicines on time, I wander around in pain without thinking about taking the medicine I have for that and just keep feeling worse, I can't sleep, and you wonder why I call myself a fibromaniac? (I do?) There are times when the fibrofog is so deep, I seriously consider getting a fog-horn to put on my head. I used to categorize my days by the type of vehicle that appeared to have run me over during the night, F150 through loaded cement-mixer parked; I may have been using the wrong metaphor: maybe all along it has been a barge, a tug, a tanker running aground in my sleepless foggy brain. Oh, well, that thought will entertain me for a while...
later