Oh well.

I tried. I really did. I tried to clear myself of Cymbalta and live a more naturally medicated life. But today, somehow fittingly on the 11th anniversary of the death of my mother, I embraced the fact that it isn't working. Maybe some would say I didn't give the 5 HTP a long enough chance, or that I lack the strength of character to somehow "tough it out." But they don't have to live in my head and my body.

The moments I've been able to step back and observe and assess myself, I've seen signs that point to the return of depression: lack of interest in things I'd normally be interested in, daily anxiety about every little thing of life, more difficulty than the usual "not a morning person" experiences getting going with the day, feeling chronically overwhelmed. And there's enough "chronic" in fibromyalgia to contend with. All these things have increased over the past few weeks. My trainer at the gym says I've remained more stiff off the Cymbalta, so apparently it really does do some good for the physical aspects of fibromyalgia. At any rate, my experiment has come to an end. I survived the withdrawals only to be unable to survive the absence of the drug in my system. But, "quality of life" being what it is, I choose to once again embrace my need for Better Living Through Pharmaceuticals.

Hopefully I will soon feel more hopeful and less anxious. I mean seriously, I have been anxious about eating, about cooking, about shopping, about every ridiculously small thing! Even my fatigue seems more pronounced to me, which (again) makes me anxious. *Sigh*

Time to move on and get some help for those synapses!

Trying to leave Overwhelmed Lane.

borrowed from LOL Zombie
http://lolzombie.com/2551/get-er-done-with-jesus/

What did I used to tell my kids when they needed to do a project that seemed overwhelming? Break it down.

Like I mentioned in my last post, I'm feeling mired in the Land of Too Much Information, stalled out on Overwhelmed Lane. What did I do yesterday? Let myself hunker down to picnic on aforementioned lane. What did I do today? Assessed my options, which seemed to me to be 1) let myself run screaming into the night, or 2) follow my own advice. Being chronically fatigued and inherently lazy made option 1, while appealing, seem like much too much effort, so I chose option 2.

Faced with too many supplements and medications at too many different times, I made myself a chart. I suppose I could take a page from my preschool teacher daughter and make a sticker chart where for every time I got the right pills taken at the proper time I get to put on a sticker of my choice. (This worked well to potty-train said preschool teacher daughter as well.) But instead I stuck with making the chart in pretty colors, something like this:

So now all I need to do is get about a half-dozen more of those old-lady-weekly-pill-holders, fill it, and I'm set! Oh, and then remember to take them!

Skimmer's Recap: Sometimes it's just baby steps, yunno?

More on Cymbalta Withdrawals.

In light of my previous post, "Cymbalta Withdrawal Is the B Word," I thought I'd post a link to an article I came across. It's always SO good to know I'm not the only crazy person out there!

"Cymbalta Discontinuation Syndrome." Look! It even has a name! An interesting fact in this post written by Christina Lasich, MD, is she has found antihistamines (such as the over the counter Benadryl) to be helpful with withdrawal symptoms. Maybe being sleepy is a good thing when your mood dictates ripping someone's head off due to the mood-swings of the withdrawal...

Things i'm learning from a jigsaw puzzle.

I've been on a bit of a jigsaw puzzle thing lately. When my brain is not working adequately in more fruitful directions, working on a puzzle keeps it busy and out of trouble.

I've been working on this round puzzle. Notice how I've done all the "fun" bits, all the parts with recognizable shapes like flowers and buildings.

This left me with all these shades of blue pieces, nearly indestinguishable. Blecch.

Notice the big blank spot below, waiting to be filled with those same-y same-y looking pieces.

But I just keep hacking away at it,

piece by piece.

Need I actually speak the comparison to life? The fun bits are important too, and they go fast. We can be left with all the boring filler same-y same-y bits. They're important too. At the moment in this puzzle I feel stuck with the blue bits that are hard to figure out. But if I keep slogging along, eventually the whole thing will come together.

Wonder if I should have done a better job of balancing out the boring bits and the fun bits? You know, done some of the blue while there was still some of the colorful bit left to work?

I feel stalled out on the puzzle. Also feeling a bit stalled out on my Pursuit of Health as the removal of Cymbalta does seem to have left me with some agitation and anxiety even after nearly 8 weeks, along with a loss of word and creative mojo. This doesn't feel as clearcut as the decision to quit the Fentanyl. With that I KNEW it was causing more harm than good. With the Cymbalta, I'm less sure.

Fibromyalgia and My New Friends: Pills and Exercise.

These are some of my new friends.

 Dr. Ballew, my naturopathic doctor, is working with me toward better health. As mentioned in my previous post, "Fibromyalgia and Spitting for Health," we had tested for hormonal imbalances. And by "we" I mean she prescribed the test and I provided the spit.

She started me on Magnesium Citramate (a clever word for Citrate-Malate), a Basic B Complex and a good brand of fish oil, based on our initial hour and a half appointment in which I blabbed a full history of *Me*. And she never once glazed over or drooled. (A very good skill for a healthcare professional.)

Most Fibromyalgia patients are low in magnesium, B vitamins are supposed to be good for energy, and Omega 3s, well, EVERYbody knows THOSE are good! (What are they good for again? Anybody??)

The newer addition to the Pill Arsenal is the Adrenal Stress End, the one mentioned in the previous post that's made of "porcine adrenal." Is the word "porcine" calculated to sound more scientificky than "pig"? I mean, aren't we still talking about the same thing? No matter what we call it, somebody is going to be thinking "Oh poor Wilbur, and Charlotte worked so hard to save him!" But I am willing (and even happy) to eat bacon, so I suppose I can ingest this part of the pig as well, at least in capsule form.

Also new, the addition of the progesterone cream. Apparently progesterone can aid in the balancing of hormones even when the estrogen is in correct range (and since mine is in pill form, it is.)

Things I've noticed. I'm about 2 months into the first group of pills and 1 month into Wilbur's cousin. I'm also about 2 months into my time back at the gym (it only seems like longer...) and 2 months into an often weak attempt to eat less processed carbohydrates and sugar. I am beginning to sleep a bit better, and wake up a bit earlier. I'm still aware of the general ache of FM, but it's a bit quieter.

I am cautiously optimistic--since there is a spectrum in which my Fibro affected energy moves, I still tell myself, "Well, you have felt this good other times in the past 6 years." Hubby says I am much improved, so maybe there is more than I am able to see in myself. Time will tell.

Of course, in the Fibromyalgic world there are always surprises. The past couple of days have also brought a resurgence of weird sensations in my legs and feet--the feeling of bubbling under the skin, a kind of cold or hot sensation. Maybe Restless Legs Syndrome? I dunno. But this is just the dubious beauty of Fibro, our nervous systems do some strange stuff!


Skimmer's Recap: julie doesn't anticipate turning into a ball of energy any time soon, but at least her pill and gym regime keeps her off the street and out of trouble.

On my efforts to have a pain medication "fast."

And who is our favorite Vicodin abusing TV doctor? Why, Dr. Gregory House, that's who! Clearly it makes HIM a happy camper.

So why would this fibromyalgic blogger decide to be UNhappy? Maybe she's tired of being tired and foggy. Maybe she thinks that if she can rid her body of the Aleve, Vicodin, Motrin and Percocet, she can ascertain which are fibro symptoms and which are pain reliever symptoms. And which is worse?

Don't get me wrong--i did not quit taking the Cymbalta my doctor prescribed. i'm not crazy. You've probably seen it advertised, that depressing depression commercial (think "Who does depression hurt? Everybody," and lots of pictures of sad looking people. They need an ad for "Who does fibromyalgia hurt? EVERYBODY ELSE," with at least one picture of me scowling.)

The premise of the moment for fibromyalgia is extra "Substance P" in the spinal column that in turn makes the person's central nervous system waaaay more sensitive than it should be. This makes the pain feel like it's screaming for attention when it should be only mildly grumpy.

i've not had the pleasure (?) of abusing my pain meds like House by taking them 4 at a time countless times a day. i've used the Vicodin at the same dose prescribed to me two years ago by the doctor at Kaiser's Pain Management Clinic. And i'm not gonna lie: when that pain reliever washes over, what a relief it is.

i've tried Motrin. Aleve. Percocet as well as Vicodin. And while they all lessen my pain level, they do bad things for all other levels in my life--my stomach goes to a dark place, my creative abilities follow. My emotions are even more touchy than before. None of these do i desire.

It's been, thus far, a 2 week fast. i'm making good friends with the hand-me-down hot-tub again. The only downside to it is my proactivity with the chemicals has made it smell like a public pool (minus the urine.)

We shall see how it goes.

Skimmer's recap: Will fewer pain meds lead to more pain or simply more sanity?

FENTANYL: The Withdrawal Experiment.

GOOD things about Fentanyl:

• It's a cheap drug on my medical plan.
• 
  
  It's legal, thus keeping me from skulking around alleyways looking to score my next hit. (do we even have alleyways in Castro Valley?)

BAD things about Fentanyl:

• Well, so far, pretty much everything.
• Wearing the Fentanyl patch means you must not get overly hot or it will dump ALL it's medicinal goods into your system at once, causing major overload and some nasty symptoms. Ways to get hot? Have a fever. Work in the sunny garden, then get in the hot tub (with the patch carefully above the water line) to soak your sore muscles from working in the sunny garden.
• Fentanyl sedates. EVERYthing. Your pain sensors, hopefully, but also your brain, your creativity, your internal workings, your....well, things best left unsaid, since this is a family friendly website. Plus, anybody who knows me is aware i'm already no Bundle of Energy. i've always worked at a lesser speed--clean part of the floor, sit down and read a magazine. Finish the floor, sit and read some more. Start on the kitchen tidying, sit down and have a cup of coffee and draw designs on a napkin. i always thought i was a bit lazy, but now it turns out i was "pacing." Who knew.
• Fentanyl withdrawals are a bi----i mean, a trial.

i originally wanted to name this post "Fentanyl: treatment for pain, or an evil plot to kill my creative mojo?" When i said that to my hubby, i followed it with, "but i thought that was excessively long for a post title." He leaned back in his chair and said, "That's never stopped you before." i guess, given his proclivity for skimming, i would have had to do a skimmer's version of the title as well.
Just a brief overview of my withdrawal symptoms to date:

• Very sick tummy, but on the upside i've lost some weight. Granted, it was weight i'd previously lost two years ago, but what the heck. i am getting tired of saltines, though.
• Creepy feeling of crawling out of my skin. Hard to explain, worse to go through.
• Excruciating pain on some days, for instance Wednesday being the worst i've had, worse than my most painful fibromyalgia day, 9 on a scale of 10, where 10 means "hospitalize me or shoot me with rhino tranquilizers, please."
• Extreme anxiety. But then, the whole opiate experiment had that same effect. So, let's see: March, April, May, and now into June, anxious, anxious,anxious, and anxious.
• Hypersensitivity to sounds. That also came along with the higher doses of Fentanyl, and again on the withdrawal path. Yesterday was the first day in months i'd been able to listen to music (well, besides American Idol, which goes without saying.)
• Fits of temper
• Personality changes
• Zombie-ness, in varying stages and amounts.

So, as you can see, symtoms aaaaall over the charts! Dr God at the pain clinic wanted me to wean from the Fentanyl by dropping from the 125 mcg dose to 100, then 75 for 6 days, then 50 for 6 days, then just take the dive. When i did not replace the 50 mcg patch quickly enough i had a long bad day of withdrawal, so i decided to use my remaining 25 mcg for three days, then my 12 mcg for another three to slow down the process. i felt that i was Dr God's child being taught to swim by being thrown into the deep end and walking away. No support, no "this is what you can expect to happen" or "this is what you can do to cope." Just throw me in and head for Starbucks.

i grew up in Portland, Oregon, and puddles are more my size, so my plan was to wean off to the point that i could simply drop into a puddle at the end where i could still keep my head above water. If this withdrawal is a puddle, what the heck must the deep end be like???

While looking up symptoms of withdrawal at the beginning of this ride, i saw ads for private clinics where you could stay to withdraw. Basically they keep you unconscious for the worst of it. i see why it's no big deal for those actors who love their Oxycontin and such--when it becomes a serious problem, just spend a tiny portion of your fortune and check into a clinic! Virtually no pain and all gain, for a measly 10 grand or so-- BUT, if they had to go through the actual pain of withdrawing, they might think twice before popping them bad-boys again.

My state of discomfort is odd even to me. In the early days of fibromyalgia i remember trying to find a position for sleep. i arrived at sleeping on my back with a pillow behind my knees as the only way that didn't hurt. In these withdrawal days, i'm so crawly uncomfortable that i find myself in bed doing the rotisserie chicken: on my back for a few minutes, then my right side, then my stomach, then my left side, only to start the spit on its next rotation. NOTHing is comfortable! Sitting up is no better, even in my nice thrift-store LazyGirl chair, place of all comfort.

It's a curious state of being. Soon to be behind me. Then i can at least simply deal with the fibromyalgia pain again. Woohoo.


*OH--forgot to add the skimmer's recap: Fentanyl: little good, mostly bad, withdrawal is hell. There ya go, it's short, but you miss the clever analogies/metaphors--whichever they are, i can never remember. *sigh*

Yet another reason i would make a lousy druggie.

i realized that since oxycodone has received publicity as a white-collar addiction, people must receive some perceived-as-positive effects, right? It looks like its feelings of euphoria are the main reason people abuse this little pill.

Me? Euphoria? Nope--the most positive thing i received out of the feelings of oxocodone has to be that i was feeling kind of hyper, so i reorganized my underwear drawer.

Why i failed Drugs in the '70's.

Apparently i was never meant to be a druggie back in the day, or here in THIS day.

My new drug was oxycodone, otherwise known as "Hillbilly Heroin." Now, if that doesn't bring a smile to a person's face i don't know what will. i didn't realize the side effects that were slowly creeping into my body and head until today. i got up for class after sleeping maaany hours, and had a lot of trouble coordinating my movements and thoughts. These are the days i worry i will show up somewhere with my bra worn on the outside of my clothing.

As i drove i realized i should NOT drive the freeway at all today, my judgement being a bit impaired. All around and inside my head things were floating, and i wasn't actually sure what was a real life thought or a piece of a dream. And i hurt more than i have in months! Dang.

Determined to talk to the nurse or doctor early today, i grabbed Anya before we even got to the room. She said, "Well you will definitely talk to the doctor today--" i was hoping for sooner than "today." Like, NOW. We sat down for meditation. With crazy feelings in my body and brain i could not do it, so i quietly left the circle to get my pills and took something to calm me down. As we crossed paths putting away our chairs, i told Anya i needed to go. We stood in the hall and i said, "i feel like i'm climbing out of my skin.i really need to leave and go home and sleep." She said, "Let me talk to the doctor, I'll be right back." She reappeared, smiling. "The doctor says that definitely sounds like you're having side effects. He wants you to stop the oxycodone immediately and go back to the patches. Go home and we'll see you Friday." "i don't have enough fentanyl patches for the new dose" Again to the doctor. "Just go sit in the waiting room, and I'll come talk to you." i wandered to the waiting room feeling quite thoroughly crazy, and wondering about needing a new prescription that i would now have to walk to the pharmacy and wait for.

Bless the doctor, he came to the waiting room with 3 boxes of the patches! i was saved from the pharmacy!

i drove home, feeling very unsure, but very relieved--and with extreme driving care. i was in a huge amount of pain, physically and mentally.

i've slept most of the day and evening, in my half dream state. i even managed to do a tiny bit of my current knitting project, and hope that tomorrow when i see it i will not find a mess.

So, bad day. And how can i enjoy the kind of drug known on the street as "hillbilly heroin" if i'm in too much pain? Something's just not right here.

This is my brain on drugs.

Yes, i have scrambled eggs for brains these days.

i am on pain medication trial number four. The patch is a thing of the past, 2 little pills 3 times a day are in.

i talked to the doc yesterday: "Well, it seems that the first few days of the increased dose of the fentanyl patch i am very dizzy. Like right now. BUT, my pain number is not any less than it was. At all."

He agreed that's not helpful. He said i am obviously getting something through of the medication, since i am having the dizzy side effect, but it would be better to have pain reduction. So, since i am not getting that, we should try again. Off with the patches, in with the pills.

Something i am learning while in this make-a-note-of-my-pain-number time of my life is how to observe and rate my pain. This has shown me that there are several distinct sorts of pain involved. One is the arthritis pain. That responds at least in part to ibuprofen. This is good. Then there is the general fibromyalgia pain, which generally stays in a 3 point spread. It responds to very little. Then there is the fibro muscle fatigue from exercise, which seems to respond only to stopping the activity. And last, there is the all-encompassing fatigue from the fibro. IT only responds to being asleep, the only time i'm not aware of it.

So perhaps i should be keeping 4 charts? Or at least have 4 rating columns on my one chart? "Current activity: strength exercises. My arthritis is complaining but hanging in there, my general fibro pain is discussing whether it wants to be a '6' or a '7' on the pain scale, but says the shoes are comfortable. The muscle fatigue is screaming, and the Just-Plain-Fatigue would like the muscles to shut up so it could take a nap."

i'll be curious to see whether or not the new medication will speak to more than one of the 4 at once.

The Death Patch.

So i've successfully lived through day 1 of what i'm lovingly calling The Death Patch (Fentanyl.) i picked them up on Monday (where i managed to fit in a little trip through the wonderland that is the huuuge Michael's craft store nearby.) i nervously grilled the pharmacist.

"Um, do you know about the recall of the patches where they had cuts in them and the drug all poured out at once onto the person and they died?"

"Please repeat?" she said, looking quizzical.

"Well, i read a thing that said there were Fentanyl patches that had been cut and people died when they put them on."

"Ah!" she said, her face clearing into supposed understanding. "Don't cut them!"

"No--they got them from the pharmacy cut and didn't know, and they died. How can i be sure yours are okay?"

"They are okay," she said.

"Well, okay," i said, chewing my lip. "Where do i put the patch on my body?"

"I would put it on the upper arm."

"What if i'm wearing something with short sleeves? Can i put it somewhere else it won't show?"

She gave me a quick up-and-down and said, "Well, it needs to be somewhere there is muscle to absorb it."

i see the problem. Not a lot of visible muscle. "Okay."

i bled her for any information i could think to ask, and then read all the tiny print on the pamphlet that came with it when i got home. i didn't understand a lot of it, but i read it. Can't say i didn't make an effort to be an informed consumer.

Once i'd read everything as thoroughly as i could, squinting to decipher the itty bitty print made for very young eyes (mine are not,) i pulled a patch from the package. Out came one of those "tear here" sort of packs. Inside was a sandwich (except if you can't cut them you probably shouldn't eat them either) of clear plastic, a smallish clear sticky patch in the middle. Heeding the "do not touch the sticky side it's full of nasty chemicals" warnings, i carefully (and paranoid-ly) put it on my upper arm. i patted it off and on all day reminding myself of its presence.

But i have survived. It is now the second day. i am to change it each third day. We shall see. i am still hoping for some relief of the constant burning ache in my body.

My hubby worries about me being so forthcoming with this sort of personal information, the ins and outs of my medication trials. But i told him, "the few people who read my blog sort of regularly are either friends or family, and most of the others seem to have dealt with some sort of chronic pain of their own." And therefore i excuse my tendency for the therapeutic blog blurt.

The thing is, i find this journey down Drug Lane to be a fascinating one. Will this next one end up in a happy meadow where all things are sunny and good? Or will i just end up face first in another cow-pie, like the last 2 things i tried?

So, please feel free to walk along with me, just watch your step.

Three Things Thursday.

i'm so excited! i actually have a totally alliterative title!

Thing #1 (wow, saying that just took me back to Dr Suess--which story is "Thing #1 and Thing #2" in? You know, with all the balancing fish bowls and dishes and such?) is, Yup, it happened. i subscribe to my own blog on Blogarithm, and sure enough, i got aaaaaaalll those posts i fixed the tags on from them. So now i know i was right to apologize. Abjectly.

Thing #2 is, THE GOOD NURSE CALLED ME BACK from the pain clinic (or, "the pain in the a** clinic, as my friend Julie dubbed it.) I'm referring back to my recent post of "Would somebody please send that nurse to charm school?" about my less than lovely dealings with The Bad Nurse. You should have heard me on the phone with her--i was actually with Adina at the time, so she did and can back me up, i was pathetic--gushing, "OH!! Anya! i'm soooo glad to hear your voice!!"

She had called to ask whether or not i'd received an answer to my last message. i had not. Hadn't felt like risking the chance that Nurse No Charm might answer when i called to say, "helloooo--you never called me back?" So i was thrilled, i was ecstatic, i was hugging myself with joy. "No, i never really got an answer back." So i told her where we were last, with me asking The Other nurse to check with Dr God about non-opiate pain meds. Anya read through my messages and said, "Oh, it says here that the doctor says 'there are no non-opiate meds for fibromyalgia, in spite of what the drug companies are advertising.'" i said, "Oh, i guess i should check again on the house phone and see if i missed a message--" to which she replied, "No, you clearly never got that message." "Oh. Well, it wasn't the most, uh, friendly experience with those calls," i said. She said a startled sounding "OH!" and giggled.

i asked her, "So, the doctor wanted me to try Fentanyl patches? Did you see the recent recall of those?" Apparently a bunch of them were sold with a cut on the edge, meaning the medication dumped out all at once on the patient, overdosing and, yes, killing them. She had. Apparently this isn't an issue for the nurses and Dr God. Hmm.

Regarding stuff like Lyrica, the medication currently being advertised for the relief of fibromyalgia pain, the down-low on that at the I'm in Chronic Pain clinic is that only the drug company themself has tested it, and the doctor won't prescribe anything until it has been tested properly by people not standing to make a fortune. Okay, i get that. (Yet he will prescribe something that has recently killed people. Not sure about that particular line he's drawn.) i mean, i understand that's what has happened with many miraculous drugs, they're great for weight loss, but, oh by the way, your heart may stop. Your liver may become a briquet. Suddenly they're being removed from the market. So, sure, i'm good with the "careful" policy.

Thing #3: Uh, i didn't really have one, but i was so happy-jazzed about the title, so, um, Hey! Did you hear the Nice Nurse called me back? Cool, huh?

Just me.

Not exactly sure why, but i have not felt like writing. i suppose it has something to do with the fact that i've changed pills yet again and so am having to go through the adjustment process again. This seems to mean extreme fatigue (which is what i thought i already had, but apparently it can be worse) which leads to a lack of the will to do much of anything. Therefore i do as little as possible--laundry, make pancakes for dinner, clean the occasional bathroom. i realize this makes me appear to be pretty much a useless lump, but i guess it's just part of the process. Hopefully this new go-round of medication will not leave me with shortness of breath and hot flashes, as did the last. And as much as i enjoyed the appetite suppressant side effect of the medication, feeling like i couldn't catch my breath was a bit of a bummer.

i had pretty much decided i would just hand over my ticket and take the ride and see where i ended up, see if it was a ride worth staying on and going round a few more times. i've pretty much decided i'm okay looking like a lump and doing little but knit and the few aforementioned chores. i guess my giving into my body wishing to hibernate and come out sometime Spring after next is somewhat weird to those around me, though, giving off the appearance of being the walking dead. i just have such short spurts of energy to use. Who wants to use those folding towels and cleaning bathrooms?

So hopefully i'll be back to myself one day--oh wait! This isn't "an interruption" of my true life, this is my true life right now. i honestly didn't think i could feel a whole lot lower than i did!

i need to find my inner Pollyanna.

Playing with my pills.

Still trying to make the methadone work.

After spending a week at only half a 5 mg pill per day, then increasing to half in the morning and half in the evening with no problems, the doc increased me to a full 5 mg pill in the morning and at night. BOY did i feel weird--super sedated, super dizzy, felt that flu-like feverish feeling of nightmarishness. i called after 4 days of that with no let-up. They said, hmm, too quick a raising of the dose, go back to half and half and call us in a week. Wow, first two days of backing down from the higher dose i felt like i'd been run over by a bus. Side effects all settled down, i called the doc again, and was told to raise only the evening dose to the 5 mg pill, and leave the morning dose at the half pill.

Did i mention anywhere that the actual dose that might do me any good pain-wise is somewhere like 3 times what i'm taking? No wait--let me think about the math--they said it takes 10 to 15 mg 3 times a day to be at the therapeutic dose. That's 30 to 45 mg per day, while i am still at 7 and a half per day. That's more like, um, letsee, 7 goes into 45.... i'm a ways away, that's what it boils down to.

Daughter Corinne pointed out that i've hurt for quite a while, and this is hopefully a short time in comparison to get some pain relief figured out that will help for a looong time. Now who's the Pollyanna?? That's usually my job!

But the good things: i still love the people in my life, and my knitting machine, and my newly more organized craft nook shelves. i'm behind on blogging and posting pictures of the thrilling moments of my life--like the finished blanket i did for hubby on the knitting machine, and the cool craft shelves. Not sure how much other people are thrilled about those things, but i just love seeing the photos all formatted cool and professional looking on my blog. If nothing else, i am easily amused.

It's a new day, it's a new pill, for me

So, the hard stuff. The doc prescribed methadone. Apparently it's been used as a strong painkiller since the 40's. But what is the first thing that comes to your mind when you hear the word "methadone"? That's right--i just say, "and the upside is, i can finally kick my heroin habit." Yup, it's what heroin addicts are treated with.

It's a synthetic, and works like morphine, from the opiate family. (The Opiate family. There's a joke in there somewhere: "And this is our daughter, Poppy. She's a sweet one, but kind of in her own world...") Morphine was Hubby's drug of choice for kidney stones. He'd go from shrieking like a little girl to snoring like an old drunk in thirty seconds. And i'd be left sitting there in the emergency room reading ten year old copies of Sunset magazine.

Anyway, the doctor assured me methadone would be a good painkiller, and perhaps allow me to get going with life again. We're starting super slow, half a tiny little pill at night for a week, then add half a pill in the mornings for a week, then give him a call and let him know how it's going.

So far i've been super sedated feeling--had some days where i slept more hours than i was awake, had some (more than usual) dizzy and brainless days. And all of this has been accompanied by some pretty good pain. And my nights have been ones of waking every couple of hours, meaning not the soundest sleep when i'm getting it. So i'm still waiting around for Poppy to get busy workin' her magic.

*SKIMMER'S RECAP:

What the heck. It's only somethin' like 250 words! Just read it!

A couple of shades of day.

Today was a fun day, then an interesting and sorta stressful day.

For those of you who *skim* (you know who you are--) there will be a Skimmer's Recap at the end. So you may jump directly there.

Okay, now i'm just hoping there are still others reading the middle--but i shall forge ahead, whatever the reading population is in this Between Land.

Hubby of mine went with me to meet up with daughter Corinne at Ikea. i love Ikea. So much to see, never enough time, or energy. The first time she and i visited Ikea when it was a new and exciting local adventure, at the end she said, "It's like visiting a theme park--you have to park way far away, you spend hours, and then you're exhausted afterward." Ah, but we loved that day, i myself was in retail heaven, and left dreaming of nicely arranged coordinating rooms with no stacks and piles of miscellaneous Living Leftovers.

Anyway, this Christmas we are meeting at Corinne's, and chef husband Luis is cooking. How cool is that? They're pretty excited about it, (as am i!) and planning how to fit 10 or 11 people into a tiny apartment. Since they have small sets of dishes and silverware and such, we looked at plates and glasses and linens. Didn't find much of the things we were looking for, but we each managed to spend some money. Funny how that works. It was fun.

From there hubby and i went straight to my appointment with the Chronic Pain Management Clinic. We met with "the team," which meant i went into the meeting feeling intimidated already. They're nice people, don't get me wrong, but i wasn't sure what to expect. i know at 54 i am considered A Grownup, but i still have a hard time not going before those authority types without trepidation. They asked questions, i answered the best i could, trying to use good body language and not drooling. i think i pulled it off.

Anyway, the next opening for the program isn't until APRIL 22ND!! i guess that's the handy thing about chronic pain, it's not going anywhere, and i will no doubt still have it in April.

One of the doctors becomes my pain medication guy at this point. i decided that instead of trying to manage my pain simply with ibuprofen, i will try the "hard stuff." Rather than being proud (and in pain) i will try being a humble user of something stronger, and hopefully not in pain. i have mixed feelings about that--on the one hand i have feared medications that are habit forming, what with my heritage being of the addictive persuasion. On the other hand, i'd like to NOT HURT SO STINKING MUCH! So guess which hand wins?

i have a mix of feeling that i'm giving up on getting better (some people with fibro seem to get it under control) and of hope. The hope comes from thinking that if these guys at the clinic have as much success as they seem to, maybe my mental/emotional self will allow me to take the steps to be physically healthier.

SO--here's the Skimmer's version, as promised:
Today--Ikea, Fun. Doctors, stressful yet interesting. New pain med, mixed feelings, giving up? hope? We'll see.

;-)

Something Oliver forgot to tell me.

Okay, i should know this already--when you have fibromyalgia, just because you CAN do something doesn't mean you SHOULD do something.

This morning i am being reminded of the early days of this fibro thing, where i felt each and every sore muscle and bit of skin with a new awareness. i'm guessing that 40 minutes walking a dog was overkill for me, and i should "just do it/i don't have to love it" for shorter periods, maybe more frequently. Maybe my "point of no return" needs to be around minute 7.

It's painful on many levels--the bathroom scale says something needs to change, desperately, i was somewhat inspired by MyFitnessPal.com, and getting extra calories for the ones i burned, well that all sounded magical! But today i can feel the ache in each finger, up my arms, and in every place else in my back/shoulders/legs/feet/you name it. i even dreamed i was stuck cleaning vinyl chairs in rows in an auditorium, and i was so tired and so sore but i couldn't get people to help, they were just sitting there talking and ignoring me. When i hurt even in my dreams, there's another lesson to be learned.

If you're at all curious about fibromyalgia, ProHealth has a good website. They also have information on quite a few other medical conditions, and a store with quite a variety of supplements, so check it out.