You find me, today, still languishing in the confines of a Fibro Flare. My memory isn’t very reliable at the moment, but I think this is the first flare that I have suffered since the onset of the condition in August/September last year. As you may imagine, there is an awful lot that I didn’t know about Fibro Flares, and I don’t wish to contemplate how much more I have still to discover. So, what didn’t I know?
I didn’t know that I could be so fatigued that even thinking would take more effort than it was possible to muster. It takes a huge amount of effort to formulate thoughts or ideas, and, as for actually putting them into words…
I didn’t know that I could be so fatigued that I would feel desperate for Peter or A.N. Other to know instinctively what I wanted to say so as to avoid the need for me to run the equivalent of a marathon by trying to put it into words.
I didn’t know that making my mouth and vocal chords work in harmony to convey my meaning could require so much effort that I would be able to actually feel the energy pouring out of me and leaving a metaphorical mess on the floor.
I didn’t know that I would struggle to say a straightforward sentence because my mind couldn’t keep up with ordinary, everyday things happening around me.
I didn’t know that taking something from the back of a shelf in the fridge would leave me on my knees, unable to close the door of the fridge, because I couldn’t move my arm because I was so utterly exhausted.
I didn’t know that, when I did manage to speak, it would rarely be louder than a hoarse whisper. Neither did I know that just three or four words could rob me of breath for more than a minute.
I didn’t realise how much effort is needed to even listen to another person. If someone says more than a few words, or speaks at the wrong speed, I have no hope of keeping up with them and, because my brain is so ‘foggy’ I can’t even guess what they were talking about.
I didn’t realise that being so worn out would make me so crotchety. It is easy to become sorely frustrated when the person I am speaking to hasn’t anticipated exactly what I wanted to say. Don’t these people understand that they are supposed to know what I am too exhausted to be able to even think? No, they don’t understand – why should they?
I didn’t know that I could be burning hot and sweating profusely, whilst my fingers and toes were frozen to the core. Nor did I know that the situation could change so quickly so that my body was desperately cold and my fingers and toes swollen and sore because they had heated up too quickly.
I didn’t know how desperate I would feel because of my complete lack of energy. I used to think that I knew a bit about being tired. Hah! In the words of a character from one of my all-time favourite TV programmes (Hogan’s Heroes): “I know noth-ing!”