You can tell when I am feeling better. I slip into my can do and I am in charge of my chronic disease attitude. The frustrating and difficult thing about that feeling is that it only lasts so long. My flares, if that is what you want to call them, sneak up on me. I go from feeling fine and managing to feeling totally drained.
It’s true that my shoulders become painful. Sharp. And its very hard to put on a shirt in the morning. A clue. My hands burn. The joints in my feet and my hands feel stiff. At night they itch. The inflammation in my degenerating spine joins in. More clues.
I come very close to wanting to feel sorry for myself. And I still have never said, why me? Yet here I am. Brain fog creeping in. The desire is no longer to keep making cookies but its to take pain medicine and watch Christmas movies.
The worst thing about a flare aside from an increased level of pain and difficulty of movement, is the energy drain. And the worst thing about it all is the unpredictability of it. It makes it hard to plan. It makes it hard to do.
After years of this my hands are deformed. I have been to occupational therapy and was outfitted with hand and finger braces. However, I feel I can keep a better level of function by using my hands and fingers. I am grateful that I can use my pointer fingers. I couldn’t use my left pointer finger for a while and it was hard to type with one finger.
I have a lot of interests. So I really hate having less energy. I feed my sourdough starter every day. I have even named him Bob. I love peering into the crock and see him bubbling away. He is alive and like my Cockapoo, Francis, must be fed.
Well, I did take my pain medicine and I did rest. I feel better. I can carry on. Thank goodness.