Fibromyalgia and Me: A Semi-Concise Retrospective, Part 2 of 3.

Year 3. 2007

I file for disability. I'm turned down. I file again. I can't quite figure out how to do life since my body has turned against me. More pain. I feel weak. I annoy my family by whining and feeling sorry for myself. Grocery shopping seems impossible, putting any sort of meal on the table insurmountable. I try countless supplements. I research more and more. Maybe I can find some secret answer being hidden from me.

I'm obsessed.

Year 4. 2008.

Turned down for disability again. I feel gutted. I know I don't look different—no casts, no missing limbs--but I feel so very different from the person I was a few years ago. My only recourse is to get a lawyer to represent me, someone who knows the system, someone who can take my side in this. If I can't manage two different appointments or events outside the home in a week, how will I ever work again?

My doctor sends me to a 5 week class for Chronic PainManagement. I attend 4 days per week, some days so exhausted by the end of the class that I have to buy coffee to hopefully stay awake for the drive home. We are an odd mix: woman with migraines, men with back surgeries, another woman with Fibromyalgia, another with a neck injury, etc. etc. We are taught to meditate, to do relaxation exercises, to do gentle stretching, to speak only of positive things. We are told not to get involved in each other's lives, yet we do. The few of us with a sense of humor sustain each other in secret moments. We are corrected like small stupid children as they teach these things. This gets in the way of learning. Yet, I learn things.

My husband's dog gets very very sick in the midst of this and dies. We are both devastated. I consider giving up on the class (I only have 1 week left) but those in charge let me take a week off and return to finish.

My pain management doctor tries to kill me with many different heavy opiates. My husband says, "For somebody as stoned as you are, you should be having more fun." I decide to get myself clear of the final one, Fentanyl. The withdrawals are pretty much Satan incarnate.

Year 5. 2009.
The lawyer wins my case. All I have to do is feel humiliated in front of a judge and several others as I listen to them try to invalidate my experience. But I now have disability benefits, a small amount, since I worked part time when I last worked. But it's something, maybe I can use this for my Get-Well money. And clothes, I will surely need some new clothes to get well. And the occasional pedicure.

I am in a full flare of Fibromyalgia total body pain, fatigue, and confused head, when someone decides to fill me in on the “fact” that “if you only ate this way you would be fine.” She also tells me that “at least” I don’t have cancer or diabetes. I look at her and say, “The good thing about Fibromyalgia? You don’t die from it.” She smiles a great big cheerleader’s smile. I continue.” The bad thing about Fibromyalgia? You don’t die from it.” Her face folds in on itself. She quits talking. Finally.

Don't change that dial--i'll be back....

Habits of Happy People.

First off, welcome back to me! i say. Nearly a month is way too long for any self-respecting blogger to go between posts--

Friday i went back to the Chronic Pain Management Class at Kaiser for my 2 month follow-up day. Other than the nurses trying to kill me by having us do ALL the strength exercises i have not been doing faithfully, it was a good day. Even an encouraging day.

The last thing of the day was time spent with the psychologist--she spoke of Intentional Happiness. What is that, you ask? Why, i would be *happy* to tell you, i answer.

The psychologist started out by commenting that for all the years there have been studies to define the many types of mental/emotional illnesses and their treatments, no studies had been done on people who are well-balanced and happy in their lives. Surprising, you comment? Truthfully i had never given it a moment's thought, i respond.

This study was done with a goal of ascertaining what differentiates a person's capacity for happiness or unhappiness, thriving or failing. It encompassed people who had lived through horrible circumstances and events: the holocaust, loss of children, illnesses, etc. Those who survived and thrived had several habits in common. But first to set the stage:

If you draw a circle representing 100% happiness in your life, what percentage of that circle do you suppose genetics plays a part in? Take a guess--no really, just guess! i was totally off. It's FIFTY PERCENT! This would include things such as coming from a long line of family members with depression and/or anxiety, other illnesses both mental and physical such as a predisposition toward cancer, diabetes, etc. So HALF your happiness is affected by genetics. (Again i apologize, dear Corinne, child of birth--you are so screwed.)

Now, of the 50% remaining, what percentage do you think you are solely responsible for? This includes your behavior and habits, that sort of thing, the parts only you control. FORTY PERCENT!! That's right. A whole hunk of it is up to us. Our choices. Our habits.

This leaves 10%--that is the percentage determined by circumstances: events, disease, pain and such. A mere 10%. BUT, and here's the kicker, when that 10% starts taking over our thinking and actions, it swallows up the 40% that is our behavior and habits to become FIFTY PERCENT. Holy negativity, Batman!

So--this brings us to the answer to the original question: What are the common habits of happy people?

*Intentional happiness. This is the choice to look for the good--what happened today that was good? What went right? (NOW who's talkin' smack about Pollyanna, huh?)

*Support. The habit of seeking support and working to maintain and improve those supportive relationships.

*Hobbies. Those who thrived in the midst of bad circumstance had hobbies! Since i am a big hobby person i understand this one. My hobbies focus me on the immediate. i have no thoughts of past failure or present pain, i'm lost in the moment. And lest you think a hobby means craftiness, a hobby can be many things that don't mean having shelves full of yarn and scrapbooking supplies and fabric and....yeh. That would be me. A hobby can be as simple as reading a library book, or watching a movie. All hobbies don't require huge amounts of supply space and/or money, they simply are an activity that gives you something to focus on other than your circumstance.

*Flow. This was an unfamiliar term. As soon as the psychologist explained it i understood--that feeling you get when you're doing something that absorbs you and puts you in the moment? That's flow. For me all those hobbies i mentioned, the reading/creating and such, those put me in "flow."

*Meaning. Finding meaning for life is a habit of a happy person. For me there have been many things that contributed to that--none of which i can do as easily any more, given my energy-free life. Once upon a time i loved providing infant foster care, i loved being a part of students' lives for the years i worked in the church high school department. i loved providing a safe space for the occasional teen who needed a place to stay. i loved (and still love!) loving my kids. i find that i am in a time of redefining what i can do, given the change in health. But that's okay--no place does it say i have to do the exact same things to have meaning in my life. For me it has all been driven by the unconditional love i have known from my Creator God, and the desire to share that in my actions toward others. i need to accept that i will do this in my flawed way, but the desire is there and always has been. i just need to do some thinking to find a different way to perform the acts that give me meaning and purpose.

As simple as this all seems, the practice is the key. My choice to look for the good, to seek support, to find ways to be focused and absorbed and in the moment, to find meaning--these choices are the key to thriving in the midst of crappy circumstance. Crappy circumstances are the things we often see as interruptions in our real life, when in fact they are our life at that moment.

Skimmer's recap: Half your potential for thriving in life is determined by your genes. Only 10% is determined by your circumstance. That leaves 40% dependent on your personal choices and habits. That's a whole lot of control.

A small moment of clarity.

For those of you who have wondered where i've been other than Blog-land, i must say i've been in a very strange place. This strange place, Opiate-land, has messed thoroughly enough with my brain chemistry to send me Through the Looking Glass. i've been in some alternate place, close enough to be recognizable, but different enough to be a little frightening.

The super weird to me part is that i didn't even realize i was walking these different sidewalks. They were maybe a bit bendier than the usual sidewalks, and the other people beside me a little less recognizable. But still my streets, right?

Apparently not. i had a scare or two where i came very close to fainting--realized something not right was happening in my head, and went down to my hands and knees so as to not break furniture. Twice, i did this twice in a couple of days. Dean said later, "I think those were anxiety related." i just thought i was getting the flu, or getting a weird reaction to the higher dose of Fentanyl. i called the advice nurse who felt i should go right away to the emergency room. So we did, along with the rest of the patients on gurneys lining the halls. A bit busy. But once my blood pressure was checked in several positions and my pulse and my pee were taken (both of those in just usual positions) and then an EKG was done, it was determined i could go home. "If anything changes, let us know." i took home a smaller 112mcg dose of Fentanyl, which i've used in the week since.

Weird things in this new place i was living: i couldn't remember last week. i knew that in somebody's last week i did a few things--barbecued, picked up my granddaughters from school, showed them our new puppy, went back for a follow-up visit at the pain clinic, visited a friend. But it was like thinking about something someone else had told me, not like my own life. Bizarre. And i had spent a week doing crazy gardening--Must Dig! Must weed! Must trim all bushes on property! To the point that i've hurt my right shoulder so that i'm still feeling it.

So i decided to pass out again--hubby said, "Why are you panting like that?" joining me in the kitchen. "i don't know!" "Are you going to faint again?" "i'm getting that weird feeling again!" "You're hyperventilating, that's why." He helped me to the couch.

i then found myself in full panic attack mode, a place i have visited before and sworn to avoid forever after. And yet there i was on those dark, dark streets. i could feel the stripe of "fight or flight" adrenaline lightening run from toe to head, over and over. Hubby is reminding me how to breathe deeply, and dang it i was trying but it was so hard to do... All was dark and scary, and i couldn't see what scared me, there in the dark.

When i could finally track the course of events, i realize that when wearing Fentanyl patches, if you get hot, such as by doing yardwork in the sun then soaking sore muscles in a hot tub, the drug dumps into your system in a jolt. Bad business. But even before that final opiate indignity, strange things had been brewing.

Hubby and i went back over some of the strange actions of this person walking the streets of Through the Fentanyl Looking Glass and we enumerate: (hubby) growing detachment, confusion, dizziness and fainting, manic, (me) increasing sensitivity to sound like tv or my ipod's music, inability to remember recent times and events...the list went on. And none of these are things i want to cozy up with in a Crazy Land coffeehouse for a latte.

Not wanting to end up in a long list of not too mentally/emotionally stable people in my bloodline, i call the pain clinic and ask them to please begin to wean me off the Fentanyl.

i am now on my way to weaning. i will probably hurt. In fact i did this morning on my 100mcg patch. i will gladly use ibuprofen for my pain if it means i get to leave those dark streets where i lose my creativity.

It's been a long week. i'm still anxious--better at some parts of the day than others. i'm still walking, walking, walking (the dogs are loving it) and doing my exercises, both physical and breathing.

But i'm starting to think i may live. i'm starting to think i will be able to create again. These are good things.

Long time no see!

Wow. Some time has passed, things have happened to make big changes around here. Let me attempt a brief overview. (i hear some of you laughing at the word "brief" out there..)

i actually went back to attend my last week of how-to-be-a chronic pain class. The Monday found me in fear and trepidation, calling my hubby before class to say "i don't think i can do this!" He said, and rightly so, "if you just go in you'll probably be fine!" and i was. i guess i figured that in the land of Pretend and All Is Good that i'd have a tough time dealing with my grief. As it was the doctor, the nurse, and the psychologist all assured me i wasn't strange to grieve over a dog--the doc said, "they're part of the family" (true) and "you don't have to like it, you just have to do it" about grief. Think i'll quote him on that. i was pleasantly overwhelmed by their kindness.

The really really cool thing of the week, besides getting a nifty signed diploma of graduation, was inspired by a fill-in psychologist. The Wednesday "group" meeting was covered by the supervising psychologist of our usual young, sweet Dr G. He asked if any of us had questions, and went over the "This is what we can talk about, this is what we try to 'check'." Everyone was quiet, just looking at each other, or at the floor. He laughed and said, "Is this how it usually is in here?"

After a couple of tiny polite questions, i asked, "Can i ask you a question about the program itself?" He nodded. "Well, there's just stuff i don't get--like, today, Beverley said 'God bless you' to somebody who sneezed, and she got called out on it as 'helping.'" He leaned back in his chair and laughed. "Honestly, i just don't get why some of the things we're 'redirected' on are wrong."

He gave us the best talk on the sympathetic nervous system and the "Fight or Flight" syndrome, explaining how even positive comments can knock a person out of their neutral state into a state of heightened arrousal, which can also awaken their pain. Anyway, it was very comprehensive, and made the nurses' attempts at redirecting make some sense, in our positive as well as negative comments.

The psychologist asked me, "So, how have you seen the positive talk idea work in your regular life?" My response, "Honestly, i'll still in my regular life say the name of the movie and games 'Resident Evil," bringing T-shirt Boy awake--"My first day, right?" He had worn a shirt with the Umbrella Corporation on it, from that series on his first day. i had commented on it, since that's my son's favorite movie series ever, but when someone asked what movie or game it was from, when he said "Resident Evil" he was "redirected" on the word "evil." He's seen it as his personal mission to test the boundaries of T-shirt statements each day since.

"But on the other hand," i continued, "it's given me some freedom to tell people when i need to change the subject because i'm getting anxious due to what they're saying. And it's helped me see where times i think i'm helping somebody, i'm not AND i'm hurting me."

The doctor liked that.

At the end of the discussion, i said, "THIS is what i needed for all this to make sense! THIS needs to be part of everybody's experience in this class!" He laughed and said, "I'll take that suggestion to the powers that be." That made me happy, but on the Friday i got even more happy.

When i went to see the doctor on Friday, and mind you, this is the guy who heads up the program, he said, "We've taken the suggestion, and we're going to incorporate it into the program." i made some happy garbled noises, and danced my way out of the office. Then i graduated! Woo hoo!

i was proud of myself for returning to class, finding out that i could indeed do something when i thought i could not. And i was thrilled with the positive aspect of the whole "how your brain works" suggestion taken. i felt powerful for a day!

And now i'm home, and on my own, and tomorrow i will tell you the turn THAT has taken.

;-)

Monday anxieties.

i find myself on this Monday morning wishing to remain cuddled in my bed with my doggies, reading some hours away. i do NOT find myself wishing to jump up and run off to spend 4 more hours in a circle of chairs meditating or on a mat on the floor doing stretches or at a table making careful conversation with a bunch of strangers who care not where i go or what i do in my free time.

i am repeating to myself, THIS IS MY LAST WEEK. THIS IS MY LAST WEEK. And i am a tiny bit happier. The past 4 weeks have gone quickly enough, but is this chronic pain class level 3 supposed to leave me anxious, wondering what i will say THIS time that is "wrong"...

There is the added anxiety of our doggy, Dyno. We had to get his bloodwork redone, so i took him on Saturday. He freaked out BIG time, and acted very ill all the rest of the day. Trauma, apparently. i think he was just trying to get the easy-to-digest meal that includes chicken.... But now, results of his bloodwork came in, and HE'S ANEMIC. Could it be his losing 3 pounds, or 1/7 his total body weight, in 2 months? And apparently he's still on the low-thyroid side. So the doc thinks he's maybe bleeding somewhere internally? That's scary. And that all adds a HUUUGE component of anxiety to my dysfunctional-self salad.

So, anybody want to join me for a nice plate of anxiety, with maybe some nausea on the side?

But at least, THIS IS MY LAST WEEK. THIS IS MY LAST WEEK.

The randomness of it all.

My hubby said my last post was somewhat unintelligible. Upon re-reading it i must agree somewhat. But it was morning, and i was dreading the pain clinic class, and had many odd dialogues running through my mind. And possibly i was influenced by last night's viewing of Criminal Minds on tv, about a Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI who profile perpetrators of crimes. And perhaps i was enjoying the thought of myself as one of their crazy criminals. Whatever.

The odd thing was, even with all my anxiety about going to class, and all my crazy criminal thoughts, it was actually a good day. My young friend "T-shirt boy" wore one today saying "Prisoner of Love."Apparently the word "Prisoner" canceled out the word "Love." He had another cover the t-shirt with the heavy sweatshirt days. A couple of the other guys were so incredibly quiet i sort of missed them, but they claimed to be trying to stay out of trouble. i attempted to find out whether or not the two women who started a week after i did are just gone, or are they coming back? They've been missing for days now. i asked the psychologist during group whether or not i could even ask her that, and she said, "I probably shouldn't, as they may have personal reasons." i said, "i wasn't going to ask their reasons for being gone, just whether or not they'll return while we're still here." She answered, "Well, I hope so." Something to ponder. Maybe the two ladies are being held in a back room somewhere...or possibly they have dug their way to freedom and have not been found yet.

The day just unfolded pleasantly (i have to give some of the credit to a nice chat with cousin Lea Ann on the way to class using my hands free head dealy--and the two Ativan--) and fairly uneventfully. Nurse Anya was in a great explaining mode, and i always enjoy that.

i've struggled all day and all evening to stay awake when i wanted to be asleep, so i think i shall stop writing and give in to the sleep. And hopefully tomorrow i will wake up in a more coherent state of mind.

Why i will never be Teacher's Pet.

Yesterday after a lovely weekend, i walked into pain class, the Room of Positivity. i saw the tripod and camera set up to video our weekly progress to be shown at the Friday friends and family meeting. Immediately i did what i normally do when faced with a camera: "oh no! Taping!"

"We don't say that--" the nurse said sweetly in a passing comment sort of way.

Damn! "Right--too negative--" i said, trying to step out of my pile of verbal chewing gum on the floor, trying to think how to move on. Of course, i do this by continuing to talk (poor choice.)

As we start pulling our chairs into a circle for the morning meditation, i say, "Looks like we're missing a couple of people."

"That's focusing on group-care, rather than self-care. We're trying to learn to focus on ourselves in this class--" the nurse points out.

"Oh, really? Didn't realize that," i said. Damn! Again!

Somehow within the first 4 minutes of the Monday morning class, i had stepped from the pile of verbal gum only to stumble into the larger pile of elephant poo behind me.

i always intend to remain quiet after those moments, but i never seem to be able to. i mean, i cannot possibly be asked to live in silence for 4 whole hours, but i can't stay out of the quagmire for 4 minutes.

And then, come Tuesday. We have three newbies. One is a very fit looking woman in stylish Victoria Secret yoga pants and an adorable short sweatshirt with a pink dotted lining in the hood over a casually stylish long tank. i look down at my hugely oversized gray sweatshirt and Walmart sweats. The second is a woman of indeterminant age in a pink high necked sweater and pink pants, who seems determined to meet nobody's eyes, seemingly wishing the rest of us were not there. She wears some jingly something on her wrist or somewhere, adding an annoying punctuation to all her moves (even during meditation. Why does she need to move so much during meditation??) It was bad enough for one day, i'm seriously hoping she loses it on whatever deserted island she wishes she were on.

The third is a mid-twenties guy who was totally pleasant and friendly, wearing an Umbrella Corporation t-shirt. For those of you without video game crazy 20 year old sons, that's the symbol used in the Resident Evil games and movies. At lunch i mentioned to him that my son would be tearing it off his back if he were there. When one of the nurses asked what it was about and we answered, she said, "You'll have to leave that word out, we can't use that word--" Evil. She was talking about the word evil. Okay then.

These are some of the things that baffle me. Stuff like my "oopsies" yesterday--we clap for ourselves as a class when we do some things, we clap for the graduating class students. And yet observing we are missing some of those members is a negative thing. And "evil" as a word is apparently banned. So, if a word can carry a negative connotation it is not allowed, we will have to develop some sort of code when discussing movies we've seen etc. i think i shall start a list of words that could be questionable, and start working them into positive comments, just to use at lunch and test the waters. Possibly i will stay awake better.

It looks like i am being somewhat negative about a class that is overall a positive experience. There are good things, a lot of them. i am being much too analytical, and unwilling to simply accept the edicts from above. i want to understand them, or even better, i want them to make sense.

i'll work on writing something more positive tomorrow. "Why i WILL be a winning student!" or some such thing. But tomorrow. Tonight my thinker is too tired, and terribly disappointed about the whole Teacher's Pet thing.

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.

Meditation.

When i heard that my pain management classes would include meditation, i admit to a little trepidation. In my mind the word "meditation" goes straight to visions of Buddhas, little clinkly bells and incense. Since we are not allowed scented things in class, the incense would be out, leaving Buddhas and bells.

Being a professing Christian, i had some questions. But logically Kaiser healthcare wouldn't be allowed to promote any specific religion. So my brain then went to "let's see what this is about and how it can benefit me."

My thoughts were, "i can do anything as long as i frame it in my relationship with God." This became my visual--julie in the center of a large-ish picture frame (a tasteful one, of course.) And that frame is the representation of God: all-encompassing, holding me in His center. i've sensed Him around me since i was a child, helping to reign in the chaos of my home.

My thoughts went from that picture to the thought that, anything fitting inside that frame of His will can be used.

In class, what meditation has come down to is training yourself to still the mind, toss away the million worrisome thoughts, even simply the million neutral thoughts that run through my mind at any given moment. And who is God anyway? Peace in the midst of the storm. Oddly, once my mind is calmed i am actually in a better place to be receptive to God.

Most of the meditations we've tried have involved watching our breathing, constantly refocusing our mind on the breathing and off the "i need to pick up milk" kinds of thoughts. Or the ones that kept haunting me all through the week without Dynamo: "oh i hope he's doing okay!" "i hope he gets to come home soon" "how much is this gonna cost??!?" i've discovered my breaths have shapes--curlier when i am first watching them and trying to concentrate, less curly and more of a wavy shape as i focus in, and wonderfully smooth and swishy when i'm the calmest. Really. They do.

And do you know what? The focusing on my breathing to chase away what they call at class "monkey mind" when your thoughts are jumping all over the place, actually lessens my pain. We also have relaxation sessions, and honestly i'm not sure what the difference might be, since they both have the same effect on me. And between those and the gentle, breath controlled exercises, the stress i hold in my body because of the constant pain lessens.

The sad part of it is, as much as we work through finding a medication regime that brings my pain level down to one that will allow me to move on with my life rather than be frozen in it, i may always have some pain, i may always have to monitor how much i do ("pacing" as it's called in class) to keep the pain down. But these tools help me to have hope again. Already i am less sore in the mornings. Already i'm learning to let the worries go for bits of time.

Hopefully the next few weeks will continue to teach me.

Pain class--week 2.

Note to long-suffering hubby who patiently skims my blogs: Just skip this one, honey. You've heard it all already, and besides this way i can talk about you. HAH!

Well, Monday has come and is nearly gone, and poor Dynamo dog is still in residence at the local Veterinary Inn. Every day that goes by i repeat to myself "He'll be better than ever! He'll be better than ever!" and try not to think about the peanut butter sandwiches and beans in our future...and if one more person says innocently to me, "Well surely you have health insurance for the dogs," i'm not sure what will come out of my mouth.

Today was a fun day at Chronic Pain 101.

First i learned that if this class were kindergarten, i'd have gotten a gold star for sure.

Second, i learned that what i thought was a bad job of following the meditation/relaxation exercise was actually a good job.

Third, i was told i was analytical--which i totally thought was a good thing--but then they all smiled wisely at each other while nodding their heads. i proved i was analytical by coming home and looking up the definition of analytical on 6 different online dictionaries to see what could be wrong about that.

OH--and fourth, i seem to be the only junior higher in the bunch.

So, gold star--great way to start my day. i had my session with the nurse where she asked me questions and looked at my pain journal. We chatted and did the questions, and she praised my pain journal saying it was probably the best one she'd seen for a "week one" person. i said, "Well, i do like to write." i actually enjoyed trying to figure out my pain number on a scale of 1 to 10 and then write what i was doing at the time. Partly i was thinking it would help me connect what causes the pain to fluctuate. So that was cool.

Regarding the meditation/relaxation--it was a great exercise where we were to follow our breath and focus on our breath in order to clear our worries and such out of our minds. We were to count each breath, and if we got distracted by a sound or thought we were to start over at one. After, i agreed that was really helpful. i liked it. But i mentioned that for me it seemed like i was saying in my head, "One..." (i wonder how Dyno's doing? OH SHOOT.) "One..." (i really like her hair today. DANG) "One..." .........and so on. Anya the nurse said, "But that's good! That means you were really staying with it! You didn't start to count then go off in your head for 20 minutes then remember to count, you were really bringing yourself back--that's great!" So for the second time i was all proud of myself.

Then, the analytical thing--we were in our half hour group session with the cute little young psychologist. Tomorrow the newbies will come with the looks of confusion the rest of us had the first day. But for today we were only 2 men, 2 other women, me, and the psychologist.

Like i said before, i talk. Often, i talk more than others. Not to make excuses, these others are really quiet. But i feel if i ask questions i understand more, therefore learning more. And i want to get the most out of these 5 weeks. At one point as i was picking their brains, one looked at me and said with a smile, "You're analytical." Then the psychologist and the 2 others who've been there longest looked at each other and nodded sagely and said, "She's analytical." i'm sure i looked confused, as the word "analytical" to me matches up with smart, logical people. But the group wasn't saying it in that way.

*editing here--i realized i left this out: "And how am i being analytical?" "Because you want to know how it all fits together NOW," one of the longer members said.

i said, "And?" She turned to me with a wise smile and said, "You can't know." Whuh?

i remain confused. i of course, in good people-pleaser fashion, laughed and played it off. But when i looked up "analytical," the Cambridge Dictionary Online said:
"analytical: adjective. Examining or tending to examine things very carefully."
To me, this sounds like a good thing. For example, one should always examine restaurant salads very carefully. i have found bugs.

Perhaps i am to simply Let It Go and Let It Show Up Unannounced. Whatever "It" is. i still don't know what the hell they meant. Perhaps i shall risk another question and ask.

Oh--and my forth and final lesson of the day, that i am the only junior higher in the group: i was asking about relaxation cds, as i had liked the one we used this afternoon and was relaxing quite well until they said to "relax your genitals." They suggested i could just overlook it the next time now that i had heard it, and i said, "i'm sorry, but i will always laugh when they say 'sphincter,'" which was the next thing we were to "relax." The psychologist said my laughter meant i was uncomfortable. i agreed, yup, and asked, "Seriously? None of the rest of you had trouble with that?" Only one girl laughed and said she'd also been caught off guard. The rest of them all pulled solemn expressions onto their faces and shook their heads saying, "No, no..." So i can only surmise i am either the only junior higher, or the only honest person in the bunch.

So, all in all, it was a day. A full day. (Apparently full of people capable of being told to relax their sphincters, without even cracking a smile.)

Naps.

i had a couple of good naps this weekend--it was pretty wearing spending the week at Pain Management. Of course, i was supposed to be doing relaxation techniques when these naps occurred. i either don't have the techniques down, or i have them down too well.

Letting go.

As i sat in the waiting room before Pain Management class began, i did the usual people watching. i scribbled this on a piece of paper:

"Don't want to be a lumpy-bumpy old grandma with lumpy-bumpy clothes. But she looks happy. i know how to look happy, how to say, 'i'm fine!' when asked how i am, so i fit that Pain Class rule to a T. But i'm not so good at being peaceful on the inside. There i am a bunch/bundle/gaggle of shaky anxiety. 'i'm trying to learn to let go.'"

i was feeling pretty fragile, having to see Dean take Dynamo off to the vets for who knew how long at that point.

In the afternoon i took a few minutes to write this down:

"'Letting go'--seems to be the theme, especially for me. Cried halfway through the day, worried about our dog, feeling very much that it's out of my hands, but feeling the stress. Hard time with the heavy internal traffic, difficult to focus on the morning meditation and exercises. Pain was worse as the afternoon went n, but somehow released after the meditation and psychologist group session.

i want to get everything i can out of this class, improve myself and my life as much as i choose to. So i ask questions a lot--i seem more talkative than many. (Okay, no surprise there.)"

Letting go. i've been a worrier since birth. i think that things felt so out of my control as a child, subconciously i did feel very much the victim of my parents' craziness. i just as young learned to "put on a happy face." i mean, i was a cheerful child, i think that was honest and true to who i was, but i learned early that was the face that helped me slide by in my family and stay out of trouble. So i learned to smile and be outwardly happy in the face of all the things that made no sense to a small child surrounded by hostility and chaos.

This causes a a conflict in me. At Pain Class i feel well suited to shine it on for the folks, acting positive, answering "fine!" "good!" or other acceptable smiley-face responses. But another part of me says, "this is bull-pucky." i've spent so long learning to be a person of truth that being cheerful feels like a lie often times. I hurt! Why can't i call it that? The Pain chasers say it doesn't help, it only hurts to talk about our pain. i'm not quite there in my understanding. Sometimes i just want to be able to say, "i'm having a tough day." Not being a victim, just stating the facts.

This Pain class coinciding with Dynamo's troubles speaks to the letting go process as it relates to real life in its totality. Needing to let go of my useless fretting and trusting Dyno to the more capable hands of the vet requires a difficult level of "learning to let go." Needing to change the way i try to deal with my pain requires an even more difficult level. Having to chart hourly what i'm doing and what is my pain level has let me see the connection between the emotional part of my life and the pain part of my life, how much the emotional effects the physical. That's the point in this class--the body and mind connection.

Once again i have rambled--sorry, folks.

Skimmers: dog sick. Body hurts. Need to learn to let go of both.

The good news...

Dynamo is apparently doing better. i say "apparently" because my husband ended up taking him into the vet's where he has to stay, possibly till Monday. For the treatment of doggy pancreatitis (i have little info about people pancreatitis) the best thing seems to be loads of fluids and probably antibiotics by i.v. That, of course, they can provide best in the Veterinary Hotel and Suites.

When my hubby called the vet's this afternoon to see how Dyno was doing (poor hubby is experiencing severe withdrawal without his doggy) he was told that Dyno was doing so well that he might be able to come home tomorrow, on Saturday, a whole two days earlier than the worst case scenario! (Or "best case scenario" if you are the one receiving rather than paying the payment for above mentioned Veterinary Suites services.)

Other good Dynamo news is that he has lost a whole pound since he started treatment a month ago for the pancreatitis and the underactive thyroid. i'm thinking of sharing his low-fat kibble.

Tomorrow i'll give a wrap up of Week One in the Pain Management Class. Weirdly i've already learned a lot.

Good in the midst of bad.

Right now i'm worrying over our dog.

Dynamo, the king of all things at our house, has pancreatitis. He was diagnosed about a month ago, and had a flare up recently due to our inadequate understanding of the problem. Anyway, i dutifully fed him his mini-meals of rice and lowfat cottage cheese for three days over last weekend, then started him back on his lowfat kibble. He's had nothing fatty AT ALL. We've been vigilant. As far as i've been able to see, he's been great since then--eating, drinking, running up and down the stairs, playing with the other two dogs--

THEN tonight--he vomited. This is one sign that can mean another flare-up. This chubby little black doxie has a very tight hold on his dad's heart, ever since they met on the floor of a pet store in October of 2002. Both hubby and i got very still and silent tonight in our worry (well, after i finished cleaning up the mess.) We are both quite accomplished at extreme anxiety, so we went from zero to 60 in no time flat. Instantly in our heads we both visualized the worst possible scenario--no more grouchy black puppy barking at everything that moved. No more cuddling with Dyno.

One thing the Pain Class has been working hard to get through my head in the 2 days i've attended: i must learn to let go. Now, i know already that holding on to negative stuff is poison, and i think given where i started (a whole different story) i've done pretty well to be as positive as i am--let's just say that wasn't a family trait.

i am a person who treasures the love of God who made me and sustained me through the aforementioned "where i started" years. He's stayed with me through miscarried babies and deaths of people i loved. He's maintained His love for me, and i've seen it, through all my stinky attitudes and imperfections. He was an integral part of my five years of therapy. i respect Him and love Him. But i have to admit i've kept some bad bits to myself.

Anxiety has always been the gum on my shoe, and some other things ride alongside smelling a lot like dog poo.

All that to say, usually i can't simply go, "Okay, i let go of my death grip on this worry, on this injustice." Usually i'm too busy safeguarding the bits on my shoe.

Maybe i'm catching on, though. Maybe God in his infinite wisdom has seen fit to use my intelligent pelvis and aching body as another nudge to help me learn what i've known all along, that control is but an illusion. i need to learn to release my death grip on that nasty shoe and just find a clean pair. (Okay, so this probably wasn't the best thought out metaphor.) But as i was hugging onto our little dog and loving on him tonight, i started praying: "God, please take care of our Dynamo. You know how much we love him and need him. Please help me let go and let YOU take over his care, okay?"

Normally this would bring no obvious change, other than me recognizing that i was at least recognizing my need to let go. But this time, a peace washed over me, and the anxious adrenalin stopped spurting. Huh.

It was a weird thing, a different thing, an unfamiliar thing. All those years of therapy, all the years learning to accept God's love for me, even the recent chats with my pelvis, it all came together in a moment of actually letting go.

It's something for me to hold onto and remember. But, God? i'd still like to see the little guy pull through, okay? Thanks.

Day two.

Today i was less stressed about going to class--i realized just how anxious i was yesterday about attending these--will i fail and become a pain management drop out? Will i laugh during relaxation and get sent to whatever is the equivalent of a pain management principal? Will i accidentally have a little body mis-sound during circle time meditation and the other kids will laugh at me?

But today i felt a little less like a newbie--say a day less. i'm still having a hard time ignoring my pain and not talking about my pain but pulling out my notebook journal every hour to WRITE about my pain...

The doctor had me raise my medication just a half an original patch's worth, so now i'm at 62 mcg. i've already been so tired, but today i either had a totally awesome meditation/relaxation time, or i'm just so picking exhausted that i was nearly asleep. Snoring is bad enough, but i tend to talk in my sleep, and sometimes wave my hands about.

So we had 2 really good relaxation/meditation times today, and a nice walk in the beautiful blooming cherry blossoms day, and some stretching exercises plus some yoga poses. It's not exactly "Let's Get Physical" but it's probably physical enough for most of us. My balance stinks, so i was the only person who had to hold onto the counter to keep from falling over while learning to "braid walk." (Left foot across in front of right, right to normal position, left foot across behind right, and so on. Just try it! It's harder than it looks. For me anyway.)

i got to meet the psychologist today--she's this adorable little 12 year old girl. Very sweet, but it was like watching one of my kids play dress-up. For the last half hour we had an open "group" time where any of us can ask questions and bring up stuff we ordinarily can't. Everyone else was really quiet, even with a chance like that, so me being one to not waste, filled some time by asking a number of questions, ones so important i can't remember any of them right now.

i do feel a bit hopeful at this point. i hope that's not unfounded.

Thursdays are a free day for us, pain clinic is closed. i look forward to the break, even though i've only been there 2 days!

Pain Management Class--Day One.

"Observe the intelligence in your pelvis..."

This, among other intelligent body parts, were to be observed during our afternoon relaxation time in Pain Management Class, Level 3. i had a difficult time remaining relaxed, because this is what my intelligent brain wanted to say: "BwahHAHHAHHAH!"

Phew. There. Now i feel better having gotten that out.

i registered in the Kaiser clinic, and sat around in the waiting room trying to guess when people came in whether or not they were in pain class. "Hmmm...they're definitely wearing workout clothes...and tying shoes...could be." (They weren't.) "That guy is DEFinitely not in the class--those are jeans, and that's just a regular sweater." (He was.)

So the two guys and i were called into the class for an orientation session before being joined by the others already in the class. That only meant 3 or 4 other women, all in various week stages of the class--one in her 5th and final week, another in week 3, that sort of thing.

It seemed like we did an awful lot of relaxing/meditating--i'm already pretty sedate, and the 2nd of those, what with trying to stifle my giggles, was less relaxing. The session we had learning accupressure was pretty cool--i definately want to explore that some more.

There are rules upon rules, as i mentioned in my previous post about the class, one big one being "Keep it positive!" meaning we are not to talk about our pain, or say anything in lunch time that might bring up thoughts of medical things to others--to the point that we can't even say, "i had to take my dog to the vet's." We newbies just sat for a while, eating and looking furtively at the others, wondering if we dared to talk. i've never thought about my words so hard in my life!!

Anyway, stay tuned, and i'll let you know what other intelligent parts of me i need to listen to. Hoping my pelvis doesn't start talking back.

Rules and regulations of the Pain Clinic.

More on yesterday's visit to the Chronic Pain Management Clinic--

There are lots of rules, it would seem, to keep in mind when participating in the clinic's program. One must not focus on one's pain and talk about one's pain. One will instead write an entry in one's "pain journal" once each hour, then let it go. We are learning instead to focus on other things about our lives of a more positive nature.

One will not socialize with other program attendees outside of the confines of the program. When socializing within program time, one will speak of hobbies, trips taken, gardening, and such positive and non-pain oriented topics.

One will not help another program participant--if another drops their pen, it is up to them to pick it up. One would not want to rob another of the victory of doing something for themself.

One will focus only on one's own self, not on others and their issues. These are some of the rules for Pain Management Clinic Program Level 3's 5 weeks times 4 days per week.

One will not give or receive gifts, one will not work even part time during the program. One will only be excused from program for extreme emergencies (i'm thinking death.)

Hubby says that behind every rule there is a story. "I wonder what happened to inspire that rule," he said when we were discussing the "no socializing outside of program" rule. The program being as old as my younger daughter, 27 years, there have no doubt been many stories.

"Well," i can hear the Don't Talk About Pain team saying to each other after married participant A takes up with married participant Q, "we better make a rule to put the kabosh on that. Didn't see that one coming."

"What else are we missing?" another team member says to the others. "Yunno, I'm really tired of picking up stuff for those lazy a** program people. Let's make a rule that says they have to pick up their own stuff! We can make up something about how it made some man feel victorious for picking up his own pen when he dropped it--" They all nod and grin and maybe exchange a few high-fives.

Honestly, i do get it. Truly, i understand that sometimes asking somebody else how they're feeling is a great way to ignore what's going on with me, i understand that someone who waits for other people to do for them will just get more and more deconditioned physically. i understand. i even know that in 27 or 28 years of the clinic they've learned a few things that work. But let's just admit it, one enjoys being cynical, doesn't one?

OH--lest i forget, the Skimmer's Recap:

Pain Clinic Program=No helping, no fraternizing. No gifts, no absences, no working. No pain talk. Rules=stories. Cynical=me.

;-)

Julie & The Week Of Many Colors

Wow. It's been quite a week, and today is only Thursday. First there was my birthday on Sunday, with the Sushi House in Alameda, and Beverly's craft store, and cheesecake at my oldest daughter's house with the crazy-funny grandchildren.

Then Monday i lost my cell phone. Feeling somewhat philosophical, since i've done this before and found it before, i got on with my life.

Tuesday i went to part 2 of Chronic Pain Management Clinic's overview class. We discussed drugs of many shapes and sizes and how they work, and i think some of us tucked away some ideas for "dang, that one sounds like fun!" We received our Letters of Recommendation from the Clinic staff for which group they think we should be in. Mine is the intensive one--5 weeks of 4 hours 4 days a week, and a family support group meeting on Friday afternoons for those 5 weeks to which we bring a family or friend support person. They've found, in the 27 years this clinic has been running, that people with support tend to retain the positive results of the program much longer. i had mixed feelings about being put in the intensive program--do they think i really need straightening out? Do they think i'm that messed up? Or did i just exaggerate on the many-paged questionaire? Or are they just trying to kill me and get me out of the Kaiser health system? One thing was for sure--where many people got appointments with their letter because the staff felt they needed more information, mine came appointment free, because, you know me, there were words to spare on my questionaire!

At this point, still no phone. But i'm not too worried. It will show up.

That day, Tuesday, was also my 31st anniversary, not to mention the anniversary of the whole 9-11 awfulness. But we were there first--we had staked our claim on 9-11 many years before. And a side note, i know 4 other couples with anniversaries on 9-11, how weird is that? If it were a date in June i might expect it, but September? We celebrated by Dean going to work and me going to the pain clinic class. i was pretty tired by the end of all that, (plus the shopping at the HUGE Michael's craft store in Union City where the clinic is) so we ate leftover pizza for dinner and stayed home! Ah, the wild things we are, 31 years into this relationship. We'll celebrate on a weekend, we decided. Not this coming one, however, because one of those couples who share the date is having a 25th wedding anniversary party on Sunday, my good friend Julia and her hubby Greg.

Still no phone--we've called my daughter, asked the grandkids, checked under the furniture in the house, and the seats of the cars. i've even cleared out some stacks of papers on the kitchen counter in hopes of finding it buried in their depths. But no.

Wednesday night my good friend Melanie comes over to help me play with stuff for our friend Julia's anniversary photo album. We both love all the crafty gadgets and goodies, and agree that shopping for the stickers/papers/inks/pens/stamps etc for the project is just as much fun as actually using them. Therefore, we both have a mighty fine assortment to choose from at any given moment. Plus she is good for my cooking confidence--i've never thought of myself as a particularly good cook. i mean, nobody has ever starved to death on my watch, but they aren't exactly lined up on the front steps for my recipes and meals, either. But she tells me i am a fine cook, and eats what i make without complaint, but then we tend to like the same stuff--pasta, comfort food creaminess, chocolate. Anyway, we had eaten and were playing with the table full of scrapbooking goodies when my youngest daughter called from the train in Spain (falls mainly on the plain? No wait--that's the rain--.)

"We have a situation," she said somewhat calmly for someone calling at great expense from their cell phone in a foreign country. "We had bedbugs in the sleeper car on the train," pausing to let me absorb that bit of information. "And they're in everything. Do you have any idea how to get rid of them?" Well, if she was calling me for support and help, i may have not made the best choice of responses, as i immediately got very icked out. EEEEWWWW!!! BUGS!!!!! Apparently she had been unable to sleep, and turned on the light, and saw the little bugs all over their stuff and they had bites on them as well. EEEEEEEWWWW shudder.... i'm itching now just thinking about it.

"Let me go jump on the computer and look bedbugs up on the internet," i say. And jump i did. Nasty little buggers they are, bloodsuckers with an attitude. i read her what i'm finding, and most of it is descriptions of the little lovelies--who needs that, she has the actual bugs to study--HOW do you get RID of them?? While we're looking at that, hubby Luis goes off to find someone in the train to tell--they're in Spain, he speaks Spanish, it seems right. But apparently there aren't a lot of people up in the middle of the night Spain train time. i read what i can find about how to kill the little buggers (i'll never again be quite as casual about saying "the little buggers") in between shuddering and saying "Oh i'm so sorry! That is so gross and disturbing!" She promises to let me know what they find out. It is so bad that Luis picks up his jacket and the bugs sprinkle out. This is NOT how sleeper trains are on movies. Often someone is knifed to death or poisoned or some such thing, but there are never bedbugs.

All evening my dear hubby asks me questions about my phone at intervals: do i rememember picking it up Sunday night? Where else could it possibly be? Twenty minutes of silence. Did you check your pockets?

Melanie calls it a night, i stack our supplies for further use on Saturday. Hubby has already headed up to bed--he gets up at a time that i could much more easily stay up till.

i do all the usual light-turning-off and door locking and go upstairs where i flip the light on in our closet to find my jammies. Something catches my eye--a smallish dark object laying in the floor of the closet--"i just found my phone!!!" i exclaim happily. Even from where he is already trying to sleep Dean is happy.

i take that moment to plug the phone in (it's quite thoroughly dead) and text a message to Corinne on the night train in Spain: "Nighty night, and don't let the you-know-whats bite."

And it's only Thursday.

The (i'm in) Chronic Pain Management Clinic.

Well, i went to my first Pain Management overview class on Tuesday morning, with little idea of what to expect. As my new doctor had pointed out to me, fibromyalgia patients tend to have trouble trusting their medical staff, and are "suspicious." (She said suspiciously.) So i showed up by 10 a.m. with my notebook in hand, and a (hopefully) open mind. i'm an avid note taker--it helps the information gel in my brain. i hear it, i write it with my left hand, i see it. And maybe, just maybe, with it surfing my brainwaves in three forms, i remember it.

i must say, i was pleasantly surprised. The tone was positive and affirming. Someone in the medical world who acted like they believed we were actually in pain! As i first walked into the room i thought, "Crap--everybody here is way older than me!" and trust me, i am no longer in the youthful category. But then i saw a woman with long hair the color of mine, but i think hers was that color naturally, probably mid 30's. And a mid 20's girl walked in, and i thought "wow, she REALLY thinks we are ALL a lot older than her." And she would be right.

The doctor who heads up the clinic spoke to us first. He helped put the program together back in 1979 at the Union City Kaiser here in California. He gave a great overview of the pain process, complete with a handout with drawings (a lovely addition to my notes.) He spoke of the pain gate, and what opens it and what closes it. They will help us close the gate. They do not promise to make the pain go away, but they will work with us in many ways physically, mentally, medicinally to manage the pain. Now, i'd agree that most of us in the room would prefer to just not HAVE the pain, but apparently the good doctor can't actually promise that. But they promise to believe we are experiencing the pain, and that helps me right there.

As he, Dr Frank, explained, "We doctors love numbers! We love diabetes--there are numbers, there are tests. Cholesterol--we can measure that. But chronic pain, only you can help us understand your pain. And your doctor has agreed as part of this program to do whatever we recommend. So, as of today, I am in charge of your pain medication."

Personally, i tend to be a "tough it out" person with the whole pain medication thing. i fear narcotics, especially having had a parent with some strong addiction history with pills. But when i am in the most pain physically, which then seems to affect me mentally, i will give in and take something. Apparently that isn't the most effective way to do it, but my fear overrules my need. i then do less so i am in less pain, and end up in that "deconditioned" state, where i become too tired to move. Then i feel guilty because it has become All My Fault that i am in this shape.

We had a ten minute break after the first hour, so i went walking. That sitting in an upright chair for extended periods is interesting at best. It being a pain management clinic, they at least have decent chairs, and made it clear we can walk or stand or whatever works the best for us during the meetings. That's a good thing.

Second hour we had a physical therapist talk to us. He took us through a very telling exercise. First we brain stormed words for what the pain feels like (sharp, shooting, aching, etc) then words for what thoughts and feelings we have about the pain (anxious, hopeless, depressed, angry and so on.) The third list was words for how the pain affects our relationships (more anxiety, anger, frustration and such.) "The first list," he said, "is the facts associated with the pain. The second and third lists," he said gesturing their direction, "are the suffering involved with the pain. The pain is a fact, but the suffering is optional. And we can help you with that."

Damn--and we all wanted them to just make the pain go away. i suppose i should have gotten a clue from that word "chronic" that it ain't goin' nowhere.

People dynamics were fascinating to me, as always. There were a couple of men who wanted to use the class as a vehicle to hear themselves talk about how awful their pain is and how hard it all is. i understand it's hard. We are all, HELLO, in a chronic pain program. The facilitator was good to bring them back into focus. As we were each sharing ONE goal we hoped to achieve as a result of the program, those particular guys would try to again go off into how hard their life is and how awful their pain is and pick a goal such as "getting rid of the pain." The facilitator said, flat out, "Pick another goal." Was the manly man with his painly pain not listening?? Some pain does not go away.

It appears i will enjoy the program, especially watching the people, seeing who "gets" it and who refuses to. i bet a couple of manly men will not return. The clinic does not promise them a magic pill and magic solution, so why should they bother.

One woman there has had MS for years, and is frustrated with other people not getting it. Her goal, simply put, is to be able to cook herself meals. i said my goal has always been to NOT cook meals, but realistically i do understand how frustrating that would be to not be able to stand long enough to prepare yourself food. i'm just a smart mouth and can't seem to control that. As in when physical-therapist-guy was making the lists of feelings etc and asking "who in here has felt this way about their pain?" and i said, "All of these things really do seem to apply to me, and i would keep my hand up, but it hurts too much." He smiled. A little chronic pain humor, who doesn't need that?

We'll see what next week brings, but at the moment my Hope Meter is up a few points.

Not happy.

Today was a big day for me--i was going to meet my new doctor. Of course hope ran high--maybe this one will actually listen to me! Maybe she'll nod sympathetically and at least appear to believe me.

But no.

This was not to be. First, "Why did you leave Dr. ***?" she asked. How do i explain this without making myself sound the ungrateful b*****? So i tried to explain some of my frustrations with having to push so hard for any testing etc, i tried to appeal to her years of study by saying i would like to benefit more from their knowledge in helping me feel better. She explained to me that the frustration fibromyalgia patients feel in getting help often leads to their distrust of medical providers.

From her expression i thought, Uh oh, i bet my old doctor and my new doctor are buddies.

She explained to me that there was not a lot of point to many tests as they were not necessarily the answer, "And I'm not one of those who uses a lot of cortisol and such, and your tests came out normal for that anyway." So i explained having had the test at the chiropractor's, and that i did come out low on that. So SHE explained how "too many cooks in the kitchen" just make for confusion. (Possibly i should tell her the actual saying is "too many cooks spoil the broth," if she's planning to rely on trite, over-worn phrases to "dumb down" her doctor speak for her patients.)

i sat there quietly, attempting to keep a placid smile on my face while she explained that "therapy could also help," the approach to fibromyalgia being a multi-something-or-other process. She did at least use different phrasing from my previous doctor, who told me that "sometimes when you get the issues of depression dealt with, other things can get better, too." Instead, this one told me that "behavioral therapy can help with the fibromyalgia." OH RIGHT! i FORGOT i can simply BEHAVE MYSELF BETTER! Guess those 5 years of therapy i already had didn't teach me to "think" away the pain.

She did at least sign me up for the pain clinic, so they'll be calling me, she says. That could be helpful. She looked a bit exasperated when she said "I like to treat fibromyalgia with nortriptyline at night--" and i immediately said, "i can't use that. Gives me a rapid heartbeat." "Or amitriptyline--" "Nope, that one did the same thing."

Right. Be exasperated with the fact that i just shot down your plan. Think how exasperated i am with the stuff not working!!

She sent me home with a prescription for the IBS, and a requisition for some bloodwork.

i muttered stand-ins for bad words all the way home.

Think i'll be looking yet again for a new doctor.