Ugh. I have zero energy. Every night these last few days with my Dad visiting, I have turned into a brain-dead, drooling zombie around 8 or 9pm… To the point that I can’t carry on a conversation, I can’t focus. Brain fog is a perfect description. I take so much longer to form my thoughts that people try to finish my sentences for me. And I am too tired to try… My sister asks, “what’s the plan for tomorrow?” and I literally have difficulty understanding her question, let alone coming up with a plan. I hit a wall of fog.
My sleep streak ended. Either 6 or 7 hours the last four nights, which isn’t necessarily that bad except the nights are so difficult with pain, sweats, chills, cramps — and I WILL NOT GET BETTER without 8+ hours/ night. See the Zeo graph below — constantly awake. Between 10pm and 2am, I dipped into sleep six times for no longer than ten minutes each time.
Yesterday, I was very dizzy in the morning. The night before, I had been a bit scared, thinking I really overdid it, regardless of my careful intentions. I was in bed, chilled to the bone, so so so cold. And felt like I had the flu, of course. The next morning, like I said, I was dizzy for hours, but felt better after a walk with my Dad.
Today, I am immobile. I pulled a muscle in my back yesterday picking up a pot of water (god forbid I try to clean the kitchen!) and that, coupled with the hangover from socialising, has left me practically bed-bound. I woke up with a wicked headache, extreme pain from the top of my left skull, down the left side of my neck, down the pulled muscle on the left side of my back and into my hip. My throat has been sore all day, eyes puffy, runny nose. Ugh. I feel awful. I visited calmly with my family for two days and I’m paying for it. Barely have the energy to type. Definitely don’t want to call anyone. It probably won’t be much better tomorrow. I need unlimited massages for free… I need unlimited funds for weekly massages. For all of you out there dealing with muscle hell, massage therapy is a godsend. It doesn’t make it worse — I know it feels like someone pressing on your back would make you shriek, but, the next day, things are so much better.
This is an evil disease with no answers, no experts, constant pain, limited mobility, constant searching, limited hope.
Almost forgot again: I am grateful for my dogs that always get a smile out of me and, no matter how bad my day is, they make it better.