I went to bed on Wednesday night full of hope that Thursday would bring a bright, new me, without all those naughty aches and pains. Nothing wrong with optimism, is there? Only, there is. Unless you are a true optimist – and I’m not – you end up being disappointed if things don’t turn out as well as you had hoped. And that’s what happened to me. I awoke with all those aches and pains, plus several more which were equally determined to make themselves felt. Say “Hello” to Fibro Day number two.
One, two, buckle my shoe…? Fat chance! I could hardly move in any direction. I felt like a very old woman. (Yes, Simon, I know that in your eyes I am ancient, but i’m really not!) Not only that, but I felt unwell with it. The way I described it to Peter was like having all the aches and pains of flu, together with the feeling of malaise, even though you know that it definitely isn’t flu, because it feels different.
At this point I must say a huge “Thank you” to Peter. He came on this trip to Fort William to keep me company and I have ended up fairly miserable for a chunk of the time because of this darned Fibro. So, thank you, Peter, for being so forbearing – it really helped me to cope.