The Journey of Fibromyalgia

A very small peek at what living with Fibromylagia is like."

I'm tired.

So...incredibly....tired....

Exhausted, if you will.

Whipped before I even start,

But the day must begin.

 

Aching claws, cramping appendages,

A chore to even stand.

Hunched like an old hag,

Working upward bit by bit.

 

Tingling, numbness,

Slow burning muscles spent.

It fades, it burns, it ebbs and flows,

But always a constant companion.

 

Minutes seem like hours,

Especially compared to you.

What takes me one hour,

Takes you ten minutes, from beginning to end.

 

Long days, lived moment by moment,

Giving up precious spoons as I go.

One spoon - brushing my teeth.

Two spoon - getting dressed.

Three spoon - and I haven't even walked out the door.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Ten.

So few to start with,

leaves so little left to live.

Even for just a day.

 

Focusing, concentrating,

Mostly foggy at best.

Cobwebs linger, confusing everything.

You said what? You spoke to me?

Wait. Huh? Crap. I forget.

Tell me again.

Repeat.
Repeat.

Repeat.

 

Did I write it down this time?

Maybe - but the note is missing.

A blank stare is all you'll get,

As I lose my senses.

 

No dancing, no dinner,

No sunny jaunts with friends.

Too much energy it takes,

So little to give at best.

I'm sorry, I can't, I love you, but...

Can't we just sit? And talk? Quietly?

Go without me, I'm spent.

 

Sadness lingers,

Depression beckons,

An old, dark, familiar friend.

Seeping in and curling round,

Cozy as a worn threadbare blanket.

I want, I long, I desire, I need...

Yet, only pieces I taste

Of life passing me by.

 

Poke and prod and prick,

Call me the human pincushion.

Where is your respect?
It went by way of the blood you drew,

How much more can be left?

Vials, vials, vials of red,

Draining to rule out the insipid world.

 

Who knows what's wrong,

It's not this, not that, never was.

Now we know, but still....

How do we treat you?
Pill after pill, one for another,

Dulling each symptom, but never the problem.

 

It doesn't go away.

I can never forget.

It is my bane, my truth, my pet.

I must respect and love it well,

for if not I, then who?

You?

 

Don't take life for granted,

Nor me or us...

Don't waste it all on foolish things,

Only those that matter.

I see it as a blessing,

I've been forced to think about everything I do.

Do you know how much others waste?

Every day, always?

I don't have time for wasted moments,

Precious spoons.

 

A spoon is saved, for those who I love,

To give what little I have.

I choose my time with you.

Author's Note

This is just a snippet, a brief glimpse into the world of living with Fibromylagia. It is a chronic pain disease where the central nervous system does not process pain correctly. It is debilitating and steals you're life from you. I mention spoons in this piece. Go to the website below which is the spoon theory - it describes what living life is like with a chronic pain disease. Good analogy.

http://www.butyoudontlooksick.com/articles/written-by-christine/the-spoon-theory-written-by-christine-miserandino/

If you want more information about Fibromyalgia, visit:

http://www.fmcpaware.org/

http://www.infobarrel.com/Living_with_Fibromyalgia

Thanks for reading and I hope this helps make you more aware.

Reviews

[Larry Dyson]

My ex wife has it and has had cancer 3 times..each removal makes it worse..it is a hellish disease...she had to just divorce Me to get treatment and I pay her support so she has living money....no pity..just thousands of unused spoons...safe huggs Laury

[Neva Flores Smith - Cha..]

You have penned well the way I understand this debilitating disease. I pray a cure or at least some kind of remedy to help the symptoms is found soon, this has to be a terrible way to live. Your poem is wonderful.