Mountaineering, anyone?

Tierra del Fuego, 2014

As a child, I loved mountains. I had never actually seen one, in real life, but I loved them. My dream was to visit Switzerland, the land of mountains. In my very limited knowledge of the world and its geography, Switzerland = the Alps, ergo Switzerland was the place to go to see mountains. In fact, I so loved mountains that my mother and my grandmother each gave me a framed picture of mountains for a birthday or Christmas. I still love mountains. When I say ‘mountains’, the picture in my mind is of high, rocky places, bare of vegetation, with steep, jagged profiles with some covering of snow and/or ice – the amount of snow and ice is unimportant. I love to gaze upon mountains: they have such a powerful presence which I find oddly fascinating and calming. I can be easily  mesmerised by them, by photographs of them. Uluru, previously known as Ayers Rock, has a similar effect. I don’t have much of a ‘bucket list’ but Uluru is most definitely at the top of it!

FPR has climbed quite a few mountains around the world. He’s thrown himself off one or two, as well. He doesn’t understand that I can be fascinated by mountains but not interested in climbing them. I think my lack of desire to climb them may be because I wouldn’t be able to see the mountain while I was climbing it – well, apart from the bit around where I was standing or climbing. I would be too close. I love the majesty of the mountain. However, that is changing somewhat.

I still love mountains and now, at my greatly advanced age (well, in the eyes of my two loving sons!) I am finally taking up moutaineering. It is a particular type of climbing that I am indulging in but, actually, it isn’t through choice. With any mountain there are several choices of how to move past it: go up it, go round it, go through it or, fly over it. Hmm… Yes… Well… That’s true of mountains like Everest, Aconcagua, the Matterhorn and so on, BUT… when the mountain is a set of high, steep steps those choices don’t apply. The single option, if you want or need to access the paradise which is only accessible by those same steps, is to go up them.

That’s where the mountaineering begins.

I have noticed in the past two or three weeks that my Fibro is changing considerably. My entire body has stiffened so much and become incredibly weak. I have never been physically strong or powerful. In fact, my baby son has teased for years because my wrists and hands are so weak! However, the weakness in my body has become very much more pronounced during these past few weeks. When I mount the stairs, at home, I have to pull myself up using the bannister. It is quite a nuisance as, if I was carrying anything upstairs I would hold it in my left hand, but I now need to hold our only bannister with that hand. I am finding that I can barely manage to carry the laundry basket upstairs because of the way I hold it. I need to find a new position or technique to hold it.

Returning to the mountaineering, last week I had to ascend and descend the same set of three (or four) very deep steps several times. It was quite a challenge. I do not use any mobility aids and there was no rail to hold onto so it really was like being faced with a mountain. When I first saw them, I froze. How on earth was I going to get up them? It’s not just the amount of energy that is needed, but also the way my balance is affecting me, plus the weakness and the stiffness of my body.  The steps were not particularly user-friendly. There wasn’t much depth, from front to back, to place one’s foot: the depth was in the risers. I think they would be challenging for many people. Oh, my goodness. I really wished I had had a walking stick with me. In fact, I am thinking that it might be wise to keep a walking stick in the car – just in case. Oh dear, I am feeling decidedly old and decrepit – definitely not like a mountaineer!


It’s A Little Bit Me…

Handmade Mosaic Tile Borders. Morocco, 2012

Time for a touch of nostalgia, everyone. Today’s title is borrowed from this song by The Monkees. They were huge when I was young and impressionable. I used to enjoy hearing their songs and always thought Mike Nesmith was quite dishy. Oh gosh, that makes me feel old! Anyway, as I say, I borrowed part of the song title for this post.

It has been very quiet here, at Bossy Towers. Like much of the UK this week, we have had snow and low temperatures which have encouraged us to stay wrapped up warm and snug indoors – as if we needed any encouragement! The situation has suited me well during the past few days as energy levels have been low. Anything that I have managed to do has been for less than half an hour and, often only a few minutes. It’s been “do a little of this” then “a little of that”. In fact, for much of the time, I haven’t really been doing much at all. Life has certainly changed from when FPR would see me knitting, or sewing, and comment that I always seem to be doing something, always busy. I am hoping those days will return because, at the moment, I can’t even knit for more than a few rows before my oomph is oomphed out. Oh well, at least I can still knit… unless it’s something for me! That’s when the Fibro Fog kicks in, Big Style, but we’ll overlook that for the moment.

Just thought I would mention that Tinnitus is being a real pain at the moment. For the first time that I can remember, the tinnitus in my right ear actually interfered with my ability to hear. Usually I hear everything above the ever-present noise, but once or twice in the last couple of days, I have had real trouble working out if there was any external sound. Pah! Just get lost, tinnitus: I really am not interested in what you are trying to do.

It’s only a very short post, this week. My feet are getting cold and I have just spotted two microjoules of energy which I am going to grab and make full use of!


A New Realisation

An eye-catching sculpture seen on one of our holidays

Today there was almost an enforced continuation of the dearth of writing on this blog. My frustration levels are quite high this morning. I have done quite a bit of IT and internet jobs for others over the past fortnight or so but this morning could have done with someone to sort out my own IT problems. Instead, I have cheated: rather than struggling to sort out the tantrum that our MacBook is in the middle of having, I decided not to log in as myself but, rather, to pretend I am a guest. Grooooaaaaaannnnn.

The need for this capitulation is irritating but I simply cannot face any more frustration at the moment. I have had several weary days during the last couple of weeks or so which have been frustrating but have also brought with them a new realisation. When I’m having a bad Fibro Day due to fatigue and lethargy, it affects my physical abilities. I don’t mean the direct physical effect of the fatigue making it exhausting to move but, rather, that I can also feel a difference in my abilities from a physical perspective. As you may have guessed by now, I am finding it difficult to describe what I mean. I think I shall explaining from a different direction.

The bad days I’ve been having have not exactly been Fibro Fatigue Days. They have been more generalised than that. I have felt achey, lacklustre, a bit foggy, weary, sort of “unpolished’, as though all of me needs spring cleaning. That description also includes how my body has felt. I have felt very stiff and my mobility has been poor. Even when I have felt brighter, it has been an illusion. My ability to walk any distance has been severely restricted. I went out with Little Sis earlier in the week and could barely put one foot in front of the other. It was as though each of my limbs and my body were being held back by some physical restriction. It wasn’t fatigue in my usual sense. It was more that I felt the Fibro was making me unwell and so stopping me moving.

I hope that explanation is clearer and easier to understand because I just cannot think of another way to describe it, apart from being frustrating. Sometimes I would be sitting and feeling fairly OK but, as soon as I moved, I looked and felt severely impaired. It was as though I had aged 20 years in 20 seconds.

Hey! Where did all those birthdays go? Where are my 20 years of presents?

What do you mean by “Just because you feel older, it doesn’t mean you are older”? Hmph!

OK, well, what about all the birthday cakes? *smiles hopefully

Ghouls, Ghosties and Other Scary Things

Morocco, 2012

Do you believe in ghosts? I don’t know whether I do, or not. I’ve never seen a ghost but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist, it simply means that none have appeared to me. I do believe that some people have abilities that we don’t exactly understand, although there are lots of charlatans who take advantage of people.


I can hear all the question marks knocking about in your head as you read this, wondering what on earth I am rabbiting on about. Allow me to enlighten you.

I have noticed what I think is a slightly weird phenomena. (OK, OK, FPR, I know that’s wrong, I typed it deliberately just to wind you up!) No, what I noticed was a weird phenomenon.

I seem to have developed an internal Early Warning System which lets me know when Fatigue is rushing in my direction. When I have been doing something for a while – it could be for any length of time from five minutes upwards – a knowledge comes upon me that I should stop. I don’t feel tired or fatigued. In fact, I often feel that I want to continue what I am doing. However, there is a voice in my head that tells me I should stop. I then find that within, literally, a minute or two, Fatigue has arrived for a visit. It really is most peculiar as the knowing can come at any time – it doesn’t appear after a certain period of time. As I said above, it can be five minutes after I start, or it could be 45 minutes but, regardless of how long it takes to happen, the Fatigue follows hot on its heels.

You may think that it is a self-fulfilling prophecy: that I think I might get tired and so I do get tired. However, it doesn’t seem to be. It matters not whether I continue what I am doing or take a break, Madame La Fatigué arrives with her suitcase looking set to outstay her welcome – just like the archetypal mother-in-law.

Generally, when this spooky starts, I will stop what I am doing. I have found that when Madame L F arrives in this manner, she packs a real punch. She sure does like to make her presence felt! These are the times when my every muscle screams to be allowed to fall in a heap wherever I am standing. The times when I don’t have the energy to knit, or surf the net; when I’m too exhausted to cope with even the most mindless programme on television; the times when I simply sit and do nothing. The strange thing is that this utter exhaustion isn’t any indication of how long I will feel unwell: I may feel much brighter after 10 or 15 minutes, or I might feel lousy for three or four hours. There is just no knowing.


Strange Happenings At Bossy Towers

Morocco, 2012

Strange things have been a-happening here at Bossy Towers, this week. Life has taken an unexpected twist. Bossymamma’s toes have been tripping the light fantastic along the road less travelled. Life has been dancing to a different tune. Nothing has been quite the same as usual.

The oracle has been consulted, horoscopes read, clairvoyants sensed and tarot cards dealt, all in an attempt to understand the conundrum that has been “this week”. In fact, at one point, there was talk of an official enquiry as foul play was suspected in some quarters.

As you can tell, it was an extremely serious matter, which was reacted to in a timely and appropriate manner.

I am struggling to find a way to fully explain the events of this week which would adequately convey the implications of the circumstances in which I have found myself. However, I shall certainly try. I will give it my best shot. I only hope that my vocabulary is sufficiently broad to enable me to share every detail of the situation in which I have found myself.

Here goes…


Well, it’s…

Since last…

I’ve had a good week!

A bit of fatigue – but that’s neither here, nor there. Very little pain. Fibro feet have been (nearly) fighting fit. A little dizziness, but nothing to get in a spin about.

A pretty good week!



Perm Any Two From Three

12/12/2017 Premier League Burnley v Stoke City
My Grandchildren’s Favourite Team [Photograph from Burnley Football Club website]
Do you remember the old Football Pools? That desperately important form that had to have crosses marked in an array of tiny boxes, to indicate which matches you thought were going to end in a draw. There was a phrase connected with “the pools” which was along the lines of “Perm any two from three”. I didn’t understand what it meant except that I think it was connected with how many draws one had to predict out of the number of crosses entered.

What has all that to do with Fibro? Well, in my last post I talked about back pain and about which of three things might have been the cause, and now, I think I have it sussed. I have whittled the options down, getting rid of two of them so I quite liked the idea of using that, apparently, redundant phrase.

I am pretty sure that the back pain is attributable to my fall on Christmas Day. Admittedly, the actual pain is different now from how it had been, but no chest infection has developed and I am still fatigued. In fact, it has been a toss-up this week as to whether the fatigue or the back pain have been more of a nuisance. On balance, I think it would have to be fatigue as, when I have had to have a rest due to fatigue, I haven’t done anything for quite some time whilst sitting. Usually, I would do some knitting, sewing or crochet, or surf the net whilst resting, but I have been too exhausted even to do any of those things. When I have had to have a break solely due to back pain, I have usually been able to do something to amuse myself, whilst resting.

Fatigue is definitely having an impact on how I live my life, at the moment. No, let me be honest, it has been having quite an effect for several months. I find that I really cannot be certain that I will be able to fulfil commitments that necessitate a journey away from home. That uncertainty creates in me a degree of anxiety and lack of confidence. I know that family and friends are aware that I have this problem and I think they understand that sometimes I have to cancel at the last minute, but it can’t be much fun for them. I also know that they worry about me, which upsets me. I don’t want to be a worry or burden. I want to be the partner/mother/Nana/friend that they enjoy spending time with, not the one they are worried about. This message is for them:

I am OK. Fibromyalgia is a pain in the bottom. While I do need you to make allowances for the restrictions it sometimes imposes on me, I am OK. I feel rotten for a while, then I start to feel less rotten, or perhaps even quite good, then I get back to feeling [my] normal. Generally I am coping with it. I am finding ways of living with it and altering how I do things. The main thing I am trying to do is live each day as it comes.


‘Twas The Night Before Christmas…

The Italian Chapel on Mainland in the Orkney Islands

FPR and I have spent a lovely few hours with family this afternoon. They had their Christmas celebration yesterday so on Christmas Eve it was Boxing Day! A bit of a mixed-up time, eh? Not only that, but I have had a generous early Christmas present.

My friend, Fibro, decided to give me a present consisting of multiple symptoms that I don’t usually have a problem with. I must say, at this point, that none of the individual symptoms has been unbearably awful. However, the arrival of lots of them at once has been a bit anti-social. It has felt overwhelming, at times. I have been feeling pain in places that don’t usually give me any trouble and it has also been making itself at home in the places where it is a familiar face. It has been particularly bad in the thoracic region of my back and up across my neck, shoulders and arms. Fatigue has been playing up for a while but, the last few days it has ramped up the action or, should I say, the lack of action. An example of this is that I have only been able to work a few short rows of knitting, before having to rest – particularly irritating as I am trying to complete a Christmas gift!

Sleep has been less restorative than usual. Up until now, sleeping has revived me, but that doesn’t seem to be working, at the moment.

The Fibro Feet have been working hard causing discomfort, as have the Fibro Fingers. Add to that particular mix, the Restless Legs and you have a lively dance to watch.

With the symptoms I have mentioned, and others, has come a general feeling of unwellness. Bossymamma has not been a happy bunny!

As Anne with an ‘e’ says: “Fibromyalgia: the gift that keeps on giving”.


Morocco. February 2012

Occasionally, one can learn (OK, ‘hear’ rather than actually ‘learn’!) something from even the most mindless source. That was what happened to me a couple of days ago. It was something about oxy-acetyline torches and it was quite interesting – to me, anyway. Sadly, I can’t remember exactly what it was but I do remember being amazed at the extremely high temperatures that can be reached.

“Hmm,” you say, “what on earth has that to do with Fibromyalgia?”. Allow me to enlighten you, although, may I say how surprised I am that you haven’t yet worked out the link? It seems pretty straightforward to me!

Allow me to give you a hint…

Bossy Feet!

Have you worked it out, yet?

Do you give up?

OK, I’ll tell you.

For the past few days, my feet have been feeling as though the skin is being burnt to a frazzle by an oxy-acetyline torch, causing it to peel off in huge pieces. The pain in my feet has been very much more severe than previously. It would be easy to say that it was unbearable but, of course, I have borne it. It has certainly been unpleasant. Actually, it wouldn’t be an overstatement to say it has been downright nasty.

It was a shock to me that the pain in my feet was so bad, and so different from what I had experienced previously. I don’t know why I was so surprised but I suppose it was because I had become used to how it felt when I was suffering Fibro Feet and it hadn’t occurred to me that those sensations might change! Pretty dumb, huh?

Hmph! Shame it wasn’t ‘numb’ rather than ‘dumb’, then they wouldn’t have felt so darned sore!


Some Enchanted Evening

Only one pair is mine.

When I was a child I loved the film musical “South Pacific”. Actually, I still quite like it, and, also, Calamity Jane:

“Oh, the Deadwood stage is a-coming on over the hill, deedle-e-di-di diddle-iddly di dee. Twenty three miiii-iiiiillllllessss we’ve covered today, Oh! Whip crackaway, whip crackaway, whip crackaway”.

I liked the songs in South Pacific, as well – most of them, anyway. Having said that, I really didn’t like the corny accent of the male singer of Some Enchanted Evening. Although Rossano Brazzi played the character in the film version, the actual singing was apparently done by Giorgio Tozzi! No matter. Whichever one it was put on a strange accent.

What has all this to do with Fibromyalgia, I hear you ask. Oh, can’t you see the link between the two? Cue a perfect segue… No, can’t think of a perfect one so I’ll just continue with what I was planning to talk about in this post and hope that I remember to make it clear at the end.

I’m pretty sure that every Fibro sufferer (or Fibro warrior, if you prefer) experiences their Fibro differently from everybody else. There is such a range of symptoms, causes and degrees that that must be the case, mustn’t it? I find that some of my symptoms can be triggered by specific things, others seem to appear from nowhere and, yet more, decide to form their own habit. This post is about a symptom that has carved out its own special niche – not that it only uses that niche! Oh no, it still jumps out of the woodwork when it fancies making even more of a nuisance of itself. It’s a very naughty symptom and I would smack its bottom, if I could.

Most evenings, after dinner, I sit relaxing in front of the one-eyed monster, playing with some knitting or sewing. I have noticed that this symptom is very sociable and certainly not very happy when it can’t be near me so, each evening during my relaxathon, out it pops – full of the joys of spring and ready to wreak havoc. (Did I tell you it’s very naughty? I’m sure you can see what I mean!)

So, who is this pesky individual? None other than…  The one, the only… Ladies and Gentlemen, please put your hands together to welcome, with its exclusive one-symptom show… The world famous… The symptom everyone is talking about… The master, or mistress, of your destiny… the irritating discomfort of…


Fibro Feet! (*tumultuous cheers and applause echo around the auditorium.)

Yes, just as I am settling down for the evening, the Fibro Feet start Going For Gold. Their knives have been honed to perfection and they have smashed the technique. In fact, Fibro Feet can do their job with their eyes shut. (I have a theory that they remove their eyes and send them on a scouting mission to find another unsuspecting victim as their aim is so accurate!) The feelings I experience include: like walking shards of glass, having someone stabbing them with a narrow blade, soreness, burning and painful itchiness. I haven’t noticed any particular routine regarding the sensations, it’s just the habit of coming to visit when I am sitting in the evenings. It doesn’t happen every evening but it happens more often than not and it does make appearances during the day, rather than being only nocturnal. It’s a very versatile opponent. It’s a shame it’s so effective.


Some Enchanted Evening(s), it doesn’t take centre stage.



Sydney, July 2013

FPR is very interested in words and is engendering a similar interest in my grandsons. He and I have discussions about new words and the way the language is changing, not necessarily for the better, in our respective opinions. I mention that because of the word I have used as the title of this post: Transitioning. I used the word deliberately because of one of the ways in which the word is used. When I talk about “transitioning”, I am not talking about transgender issues but, rather, about the transition I am undergoing at the moment because of the Fibromyalgia.

My Fibro symptoms have altered recently: some have become more pronounced, others have been making their debuts on my personal Fibro stage. These developments in the symptoms create a huge learning curve (sorry, FPR!) around how to live my life. I must admit to feeling fed up with some of the restrictions that my health is trying to force upon me. I don’t mind having to carry out tasks in small chunks – I am used to that and have found it to be a useful coping mechanism – but I really don’t like being penalised for having the temerity to go out for a few hours’ enjoyment and entertainment. That is just not on!

Over the past few weeks, I have had to pull out from several planned trips with friends because of the effects of fatigue. I am unbelievably lucky that my friends understand and tolerate these cancellations. I don’t like having to cancel but I am trying to be sensible and take care of myself. Actually, going out is one of the few areas of my life in which I am an optimist. I always assume that I shall be fine to go when the plans are made and, if fatigue is making itself felt in the period immediately prior to the trip, I believe that it will (miraculously) lift so that I’ll be OK to go. Of course, too often the fatigue doesn’t lift so then I put on my sensible head and don’t go. When I do go, I know that later in the day will most likely be payback time but that’s OK, I don’t think I complain much about that. However, the fatigue is altering. I sincerely hope that this change is a Fibro flare, rather than anything longer-lasting. After my last few excursions I have found that the after-effects have been lasting longer than a few hours. It now seems to be taking a good two days for them to wear off. Hmph. This is not acceptable. For goodness’ sake, Fibro, sort yourself out and stop knocking me out like this. Bossymamma is not happy. In fact, I am so not happy that I am likely to stamp my feet in annoyance (and FPR knows what I am like when I reach that stage, having witnessed it in Singapore!).

For the time being, I shall try not to overdo things and hope that friends are still happy to arrange trips out in the hope that, occasionally, they come to fruition, but I really do hope that  the fatigue slips back into our old routine.

As my friend, Anne, says, “Fibromyalgia: the gift that keeps on giving”.