Saturday, 25 November 2023
When the fog clears, tea's on the list.
Wednesday, 30 November 2022
It gets very tiresome!
Tuesday, 29 March 2022
Lovely stuff
Monday, 17 May 2021
The only positive thing for spoonies
Thursday, 22 April 2021
Our home is so nurturing
Today I must do a load of washingGo to the chemistCook a stew for dinner tonight.
Thursday, 1 April 2021
Is a little compassion too much to ask for?
I was relieved that I had a name to put to the painful syndrome that sucked the life out of me and added to my woes as a sufferer of angina, arthritis and back pain. And polymyalgia rheumatica thrown into the mix.
It made sense that with all these ailments, I would be finding it more difficult, or even impossible to do the chores that after a lifetime of being a wife and mother, were familiar and regular as the rising and setting of the sun.
With the newest diagnosis, came a depression because not only was I totally frustrated with having to constantly adjust to my new normal, but I was not afforded much compassion or understanding from others.
It was intimated, but not said, that I was lazy and using ill health as an excuse to be lazy. Nothing could be further from the truth. I was laid low emotionally as well as physically.
These days, it is rare to find someone who is compassionate for the chronically ill and/or aged. And it compounds the frustration and anger one can feel as one goes through the cycles of grief with a new diagnosis that limits one further.
I know a little understanding from others would go a long way to help me adjust and accept it every time I am faced with a new normal.
Sadly, not only do most people now not want to listen about chronic illness, but they don't want to know.
It's not a hard thing to commiserate with the trampled flower bowing under the weight of pain and illness and later, stigma.
We don't necessarily ask for help from others, but is a little compassion too much to ask for?
Wednesday, 17 February 2021
I am going to stay in bed.
Some days don't go well. Like today.
My fibromyalgia was paining me badly and I was so tired that I could hardly breathe. But I really wanted to bake some no knead bread to accompany my pea and ham soup for dinner tonight.
I prepared the soup and decided to do it in the slow cooker. Knowing I had a flare and practically no spoons, I bought all pre diced onions and garlic and carrots and as far as the preparation went, it was not too taxing on me.
Covering the dough to proof, I made Chris and I a cup of tea and literally crashed into bed for a nana nap.
Coming out a bit later, putting the dough into the dutch oven, I bent down to get something out of my cupboard- my back seized on me and I couldn't rise back up. Leaning on the cupboard door, there was an almighty crack and the pine gave way and the door broke off from the hinges. I felt so upset.
I decided to check on the soup and to my horror, I saw that I had forgotten to turn the power on by the power plug. It was far too late to set it going for dinner time.
Because I had no energy, I asked Chris to transport the crockpot of prepared soup to the fridge. I just didn't trust myself.
It's so true that the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. No truer word ever for a fibromyalgia sufferer.
I am hoping tomorrow will be better. If not, I am going to stay in bed.