Between the two stomach flus and the one lollapalooza of a head cold in the past 3 and half weeks, I have not been good about doing my physical therapy for fibromyalgia. So, what progress I made since September is pretty much down the toilet and I've got to start all over from scratch. But I'm getting back up off the canvas and am going to slug it out with this demon called fibromyalgia. The fact that I've survived this incredible pain all these years is proof that God exists and that He is in the business of keeping folks' heads above water, because let me tell you that on my own all these years without His help, I surely would have despaired and done the unthinkable.
Next month on December 14th, it will mark my 26th "anniversary" of having CFIDS and fibromyalgia. I had just barely turned 16 when I got leveled with a monstertruck case of mononucleosis (which, for the record, I did have a lot of fun getting. Little did I know that it would rob me of having fun for many years to come!). One night I was a rambunctious, fun-loving, life-of-the-party teenager. The next morning I woke up sicker than hell, and I haven't been the same since. Some days I don't remember who I used to be B.C.F.S. (Before CFS). I feel like I *am* this awful illness. But dammit all, I am not going to let it win in the end!
The Center for Disease Control is FINALLY coming out with a large publicity campaign this fall and winter aimed at educating the public and the medical profession that CFIDS is NOT a psychiatric illness, that there are ten to twenty genetic aberrations in people with CFS/CFIDS, that we are NOT "malingerers", and also that our suffering is comparable to that of AIDS, COPD, renal failure, and a few other very not fun diseases.
I've waited nearly twenty six years to be vindicated by the medical community, and it feels GRAND. It takes a load off. And allow me to say to my fellow fibro/CFS sufferers: Hang in there, kiddies! The research is getting HOT and CURES will be coming our way before we can whip the covers off of our Celebrex bottles!
Anyway, to my praying friends, when you think of me, please offer one of those two second golden arrow prayers that I will stick to my physical therapy exercises, even though it is likely to be a two steps forward/one step back dealie. I am NOT going to let this foolish illness win! Take that! En garde! (she says as she whips her Theraband at the fibro devils!)
Now, off with me to brush my toofies. Good night, John Boy.