Things That Go Bump In The Night

My lovely boy.

During the long, dark nights of Winter, many people like to share scary stories and so, on this dark winter’s morning I thought I would continue that tradition, albeit my timing is somewhat out. It’s a bit of an odd thing for me to do as I don’t enjoy being frightened. I have only ever watched one horror film: it was more than 45 years ago and it still gives me the creeps when it comes into my mind!

The start of my scary story is something of a cliché…

It was a cold, dark winter’s night and a gale was howling. There was no moon. Everywhere was black as coal: too dark to see anything. A bat skimmed by, leaving a whisper of its flight. A single, almost silent tap was heard, like a fingernail lightly touching glass. Suddenly that tiny sound exploded into a cacophonous clatter. The noise was deafening. It completely engulfed the cry of the rushing wind. Nothing existed but the sound which completedly overwhelmed the senses. There was an absolute knowledge of a cataclysmic happening. Life-changing. Earth shattering. Everything was obliterated by the intensity of the crushing and crashing. (*pauses dramatically)

It was the sound of Fibro Fog indelicately shoving all of Bossymamma’s marbles towards the brain’s Emergency Exit!

Ladies and gentlemen, Bossymamma’s marbles have left the building.

Fibro Fog rules in Bossymamma’s world.

You don’t think that’s very scary? Hmm. Try it. Try reading something, acting on it, making a telephone call about it and, during the call, realising that what you read was not what was written down. Try writing down some important information, only to find that you have changed just about every pertinent detail. Try having an apparently serious conversation with someone you have never met before and, halfway through a sentence, your brain turns to mush and, not only have you forgotten what you were going to say, but the entire discussion no longer makes any sense to you. Or, how about sorting your medication into dosette boxes, only to discover that you have made a confusing hash of it and have no idea what you’ve done or how to correct it? Believe me, it really does feel as though my marbles are AWOL.


It’s not always like that. Sometimes my mind is as clear, as organised and as logical as it ever has been. Sometimes I can function like Me, Well, I suppose that should read “like the Me that I used to be”. However, I don’t want it to be the Me that I was, I want it to be the Me that I still am. It feels as though I am disappearing: being swallowed by Fibromyalgia and irrevocably changed by it. I’m not ready for me to vanish. Bits of me have been disappearing for years. Stress, anxiety and depression have taken their toll, eroding me. I used to be someone who coped, organised, did things, got others to do things, but that has been slipping away, to be replaced by a very different person – possibly one who is easier for others to be near, but not easier to actually be. Mind you, I haven’t completely given up.

Yesterday an article showed up in my Facebook Newsfeed. It discussed reasons why people with Fibromyalgia don’t like talking on the telephone. One sentence, in particular, stood out for me:

‘Personally, I really dislike speaking to strangers on the phone because I don’t want to appear stupid. At least if it’s someone I know well, I can say, “Sorry, I just had a fibro moment. Can you repeat that?” ‘

I have made a few telephone calls over the past couple of days during which Fibro Fog has made itself felt. However, unlike the author of that article, I am unconcerned about the possibility of appearing stupid. You see, I know that I’m not stupid and that is more important to me than the opnion of someone on the other end of a telephone. The way that I deal with Fibro Fog interfering in a conversation, either in person or on the telephone, is to tell the other person that I have a medical condition that sometimes turns my brain to mush and asking them to repeat what they have said, or explain it another way so that I can take it in. What I am telling them, in effect, is that I expect them to take some responsibility for ensuring that they are helping me to understand. I don’t think that’s unreasonable. How often have you heard someone say about computing, for example, that they ask their son/daughter/grandchild to show them? Then they go on to say that said son/daughter/grandchild just touches a few buttons and does it without explaining, so they don’t learn. It’s the same thing, isn’t it? What’s the point of me asking and then pretending that I have understood, when I haven’t? I’m not ready to sit quietly in the corner like a good little disabled person.





I Must Go Shopping!

Lettie is feeling a little chilly

Hello there. This will have to be a quick post as I am in a hurry to go shopping. I think John Lewis would be a good place to go but I may need to call in at a supermarket, too.

What do I need to buy so urgently, you ask. Well, our cutlery is looking a little the worse for wear so it would be as well to refresh that drawer. I think I shall buy a set with more place settings as we seem to use them all in no time at all. The situation is particularly bad with the spoons. It seems as though even first thing in the morning there are few usable spoons around. Not only that, but everything seems to need more spoons than usual. Just sitting in the chair, thinking about standing up, often feels as though it is using several of that day’s spoons. I think this is probably the worst patch of fatigue I have had since I was first diagnosed with Fibromyalgia. It would be easy to think “it’s not fair” but it doesn’t help. If anything, it makes things slightly worse. Mentally, I cope better if I keep away from the “Why me?” thoughts. I don’t know whether that would be the same for others but I suspect it may well be.

So, what about the supermarket? I need to dash (!) in there for some window cleaner. Everything is looking foggy so I think the windows must need cleaning. [Yes, I know, it’s corny but I just felt like being silly – on purpose, for a change!]

Actually, at the moment the Fibro Fog doesn’t seem particularly funny. Things have moved on from thinking one thing and saying another. This morning I was sorting out my medication and filling my weekly pill boxes. Things seemed to be going fairly well until I had filled the final box. I noticed that there was a half-full blister pack sticking out of a box. I had deliberately placed the pack that way after using it for the penultimate box as I knew I would be emptying it for the final box. However, once I had filled that box, I noticed that that pack was still half-full! I had put a different (and wrong) type of tablet in each day’s compartment of that box. I had no idea which type of medication I had wrongly used, although, luckily, I recognised which pill it was in each section and was able to remove it. It was a scary moment. Have I reached a point where I cannot be trusted to deal with my own medication? I really don’t want that to be the case… Really, really, really.

That mistake has given me a fright. However, I am not going to panic. I am going to allow myself to calm down and to mull things over. I need to recognise the best way to deal with this. I hope I manage to do so.


Nice And Easy Does It

Singapore, May 2015

For the past two or three weeks (actually, it’s probably longer than that), I have been living quietly. By ‘quietly’ I mean that I haven’t been rushing about: instead I have been doing things when I feel like doing them, resting when I feel like resting, getting up and going to bed when I feel like it – you know the sort of thing. Some of the time it has been through choice, the rest of the time it hasn’t. I have been trying to give my body a chance to recharge its batteries. That may sound odd coming from someone who has problems with fatigue caused by Fibromyalgia, but it has felt as though I needed to have a bit of ‘slow’ time.

It has been an odd state of affairs, this slow time. For a start, I dislike being disabled by the fatigue. It is dreadfully frustrating not to be able to do things that I have been looking forward to, but, after a while, it just felt right to slow things down a bit. I had recently returned, after a long break, to a group that meets on Thursday evenings and I was thoroughly enjoying it. However, I was finding that for probably half of the time, I was too weary to be able to attend. Instead of railing against fate, I decided that my default position would be that I was unable to go to the meetings. That way, if I felt bright enough to go, it would be a big, fat bonus, rather than suffering the disappointment of missing it when the fatigue was playing up. I must say, making that particular decision has made it easier to cope with not being able to attend. At this point, I was going to say that perhaps I should adopt this strategy for everything, but I think that would be a bad thing. It would be a terribly pessimistic standpoint so I don’t think it would work. For the moment, it’s enough to use it just for the Thursday evening group.

I am finding that I am having to keep adjusting the way I live with the Fibro. I suppose much of that is because the Fibro has changed and has been affecting me differently over the last several months. For the time being, I don’t mind the ebb and flow – which is a good thing – but it remains to be seenhow long that remains true. For now, I shall continue on my slow journey, with occasional bursts of speed – not only in my lovely car!

Support Group, Anyone?

My lovely boy.
My lovely boy.

I think I have mentioned previously on here that I don’t read up on Fibromyalgia. When a new symptom appears, I make a quick search online to see if it is connected to Fibro. When I was first diagnosed I made the mistake of reading about it, but I very soon recognised the error of my ways. For many people, learning about their condition is an important and useful part of living with it. However, I find that I cope better if I don’t know. I’m the same when it comes to having any treatments. In fact, I am so bad that a consultant once operated on me, rather than carrying out the lesser [and more appropriate] treatment, because he knew I wouldn’t be able to cope with being awake and aware of what was going on! His was exactly the right course of action. I like to know the details after the event, not before.

Anyway, when I was diagnosed with Fibro, as well as reading about it, I joined a few support groups on Facebook. One year on, I am thinking of leaving those that I haven’t already ceased to be part of. Let me say at this point that, in general, I think support groups can be a marvellous thing but, for me, when it comes to Fibro, they are not really helping. Allow me to explain why.

You will have noticed that I don’t tend to have much pain associated with my Fibro. I have several other symptoms that cause difficulties for me, but pain is not one of them. However, pain is what most people equate with Fibro. Usually, if I tell someone I have Fibro, if they have any knowledge at all about the condition, they make the immediate assumption that I suffer a lot of pain. This seems to hold true within support groups, also. It feels to me, that many people with Fibro, will not believe that someone has Fibro if they don’t have the pain associated with it. It’s almost as though they are wishing the pain upon people! Not only that, but often, people who do have pain can come across as quite aggressive in the way that they speak. Some of the posts I have read in a couple of the Facebook groups are quite unpleasant. Now, I know that being in pain can cause anyone to be short-tempered, but it doesn’t excuse the nasty comments that I have seen in what is supposed to be a support group.

I have seen the phrase “Fibro Warrior” used to describe people living with Fibro. OK, be a warrior if you want to, but please remember that the ‘enemy’ is Fibromyalgia, not your fellow sufferers!

I know that I am not the only person who has noticed this phenomenon as within the last couple of weeks someone else mentioned it in a post that we were both responding to. Indeed, within just the past few days, I have seen a woman being verbally attacked by another member of a particular support group because she goes to work. The assumption of some people with Fibro seems to be that no-one with Fibro is able to work: they seem to forget that everyone’s experience of Fibromyalgia is different. That difference is not wrong, it’s just different.

As for the support groups, I haven’t yet made a definite decision about whether to stay or to leave. I shall probably just go with the status quo, for the time being.