When you feel like this. You wake up, you look rather distrustingly out at the world, and you think, “Really? You want me to actually get up and function in the world? You have got to be kidding me.” At least that’s how I felt Saturday morning, which was the morning after I had been hooked to an IV for 7½ hours, and 2 hours the day before that. An honestly, that’s kind of how I felt the next morning as well. My head still hurt from the IVIG headache, and my muscles and soft tissue still haven’t forgiven me for pumping all those medications through my body.
But I also know on mornings like this that if I don’t get up and start moving, I will feel worse. The infusions cause their own muscle pain but they also aggregate the fibromyalgia. And with fibro, the worst thing you can do is to be immobile. It’s true that for a few days after my infusions I can’t walk a mile, or do any sort of prolonged workout. (Well, prolonged for me, which to other people would probably be considered very short.) But I know that I have to get up, get my muscles moving, and do things.
I also know I need to be gentle with myself and not push myself too hard, which I have a tendency to do. Yesterday I wanted so much to walk the dog 0.75 of a mile, but knew I would probably regret it, so I settled for ½ a mile. I’m glad I did. 20 minutes after getting home I crashed, and had to lie down for half an hour. But I did feel better for having walked. And the dog definitely was happier. Great companions, dogs. They encourage you to do what you know you should.
Mornings that feel like this, I think of Judith Viorst’s wonderful children’s book Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, in which everything seems to go wrong for the youngest of three brothers. Repeatedly throughout the book, when things don’t turn out the way he would wish, Alexander bemoans his fate by saying, “I think I’ll move to Australia.” Our 30-something older daughter can still recite it word for word. Alexandr’s phrase has become something of a short hand code within our family to signal that nothing seems to be going right. The book ends with Alexander’s mother tucking all three brothers in bed for the night and reassuring him that “Some days are [just] like that… even in Australia.”
But you needn’t to be a child to enjoy this book. It is worth pulling out anytime you have a morning like this. Or a day like this. It will get you smiling, and maybe even laughing. And laughter is good for the soul.
Because, of course, (to paraphrase):
~Some mornings are like this,…. even in Australia.
9 thoughts on “There Are Those Mornings………”
I love your blog! Thanks for inviting me over to check it out! I can definitely relate a lot to this post. Everyday I don’t know how I am going to function but I somehow manage to at least a little bit. It is very important to keep moving though it can be hard to get a start at it. I’m looking forward to reading more of your posts! ❤ xo
Thanks so much Katie! I’ve started a series of posts on trying to stay fit when you have a chronic health condition. Especially a condition that can vary so dramatically from day to day. Check out my categories of Fitness and Small Steps, and please share your experiences. What tricks have to learned to get yourself moving? What doesn’t work? The more of us who share, the more we know that we are not alone, not weird, and have support! ❤
I can’t say that I really have any tricks because I probably don’t move as much as I should. So I am definitely going to be more into hearing what you or anyone else has to say. What helps me of course is pain medication. I can function and get some things done with that otherwise it’d be pure torture. ❤
Have you seen a rheumatologist? I have a wonderful one who has me on some medications to help with the actual fibro, so that I need to use pain meds far less often than I used to. Which is great, because I can’t drive or get things done on pain meds – they make me loopy.
Yes I have seen the Rheumatologist and unfortunately where I live now here in Las Vegas, health care and doctors are not good at all! I will be moving back to my home state of Michigan in October and I will get much better treatment there and I will have a lot more offered to me. So I am just trying to get through the next 5 months really.
I’m sure that you’re right, and you will be able to get better care back in Michigan. You mentioned on your Welcome page that you are from a small town near the Ann Arbor area. If nothing else, you can travel to Ann Arbor and see someone at the University Med School there. In the meantime, some of my posts on Fitness and Small Steps might encourage you to move more. I have found that the less I move, the more I hurt. I have also learned that I need to build my activity up gradually, and not think that I can climb a mountain all in one day. 😉 Hang in there, and know that there are others of us out here!
Oh yes! I used to go to U of M Med School. I am a U of M football fan too lol. My Rheumatologst there helped me achieve my diagnosis in a timely manner and helped to feel better. I can’t wait to go back! If I knew that health care was so awful here then I would have never moved! I moved here though for a job opportunity for my boyfriend but since his company is based in Michigan we can move back and he will just work there again. I am looking forward to reading your posts and getting to hear more from other people with chronic illness as well. Thanks again so much for reaching out to me! 🙂
My pleasure! This is exactly what I envision this blog to be. I can’t always respond this quickly; it all depends on how I’m doing health wise. But I got my infusions at the end of last week, so these last few days have been pretty good. I’m glad that I was able to comment so soon!
Its okay I understand how that goes. Glad to hear that you seem to be doing well. 🙂