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The Unfairness of Illness
Apr. 21st, 2017 06:45 pmI'm sitting up in front of the tv tonight. I'm watching 'Downton Abbey' Season 2, years after everyone else. If that newspaper editor isn't the son of Michael Palin, I'll eat my hat.
The past few days, I've been crook. Not wholesale revolting crook, which I was the first day, but just slightly under the weather, with runny nose and dry throat rumbling like thunder down below the horizon. The constant state of debilitation that I experience is roaring. Yet, I'm frustrated that there's so much I want to be doing. I've had my fill of lying on my bed, reading. The book I'm currently immersed in is SEE WHAT I HAVE DONE, which is a retelling of the Lizzie Borden case. But even that has lost appeal.
I spend so much darned 'down' time that it's less a luxury and more a prison. And that's how I see fibromyalgia - a sentence. Depression, anxiety, whatever other label we could slap on me, my body is a prison!
I'm told that I need to change my attitude and accept that this is my life now. I refuse. I want my old body back, my energy, my focus and enthusiasm. I want to eat life with a serving spoon, not a teaspoon.
While I love my quiet days of art, tarot, writing, reading, gardening, and walking the dog, I also want my high-energy days of belly dance, of ballroom dancing, of grandparenting, and exploration of my surrounds.
No doubt, at least once a month, there will be variation on this theme, as I turn sulky, angry, or throw a complete tantrum. It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair!
Immune-compromised be damned! Give me health, vitality, enthusiasm, focus, and joie de vivre.
The past few days, I've been crook. Not wholesale revolting crook, which I was the first day, but just slightly under the weather, with runny nose and dry throat rumbling like thunder down below the horizon. The constant state of debilitation that I experience is roaring. Yet, I'm frustrated that there's so much I want to be doing. I've had my fill of lying on my bed, reading. The book I'm currently immersed in is SEE WHAT I HAVE DONE, which is a retelling of the Lizzie Borden case. But even that has lost appeal.
I spend so much darned 'down' time that it's less a luxury and more a prison. And that's how I see fibromyalgia - a sentence. Depression, anxiety, whatever other label we could slap on me, my body is a prison!
I'm told that I need to change my attitude and accept that this is my life now. I refuse. I want my old body back, my energy, my focus and enthusiasm. I want to eat life with a serving spoon, not a teaspoon.
While I love my quiet days of art, tarot, writing, reading, gardening, and walking the dog, I also want my high-energy days of belly dance, of ballroom dancing, of grandparenting, and exploration of my surrounds.
No doubt, at least once a month, there will be variation on this theme, as I turn sulky, angry, or throw a complete tantrum. It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair!
Immune-compromised be damned! Give me health, vitality, enthusiasm, focus, and joie de vivre.
