We Interrupt This Program...

Who would have thought that it would take almost eight months to get another blog entry posted? Certainly not me! Unfortunately, the trials of life came at me full force when I least expected, and I now find myself at a point where I am unable to move forward for the time being.

Things started to get difficult in September, but I had no idea that things were building to a crescendo for me at that time. My cat, whom I mentioned in my post “Overextending,” started to lose weight rapidly, and was having accidents all over the house, especially in my husband’s and my room, where he preferred to stay at because of our dog. Jobie never liked RJ from the day she came into the house, and he had decided then that he preferred to camp out in the bedroom rather than deal with her. He started to show signs of his medical problem worsening, so we started taking him to the vet more frequently.

Just a month after my cat’s ordeal began, we noticed that two adorable kittens had decided to take up residence in our garage, using it for shelter from the elements. One was very desirous of human attention, although she was afraid to come close enough to be touched at first, while the other preferred to keep her distance. Our next door neighbors took pity on them and began to feed them, but all the other neighborhood cats started “sharing” their food. We had been considering feeding them as well, but they beat us to it. We started helping with their feeding when we saw that the kittens were not getting enough from the “community trough,” and put some food in the garage for them. Unfortunately, the neighborhood cats found their way into the garage with the kittens, and of course helped themselves to that food as well.

Lovey, around the time she first appeared in our garage

We started calling them Lovey and Spooks, and started trying to coax them to interact more with us when we left the house or came home. We thought that it would be easier to take care of their basic needs if they were at least socialized enough to let people hold them. Neither we, nor our neighbors were willing at that time to claim ownership of either kitten, in our case because we had so much on our hands with Jobie.

He was declining rapidly. It was apparent by December that he would not be with us for much longer. I could not bear to lose him, and did everything I could to keep him alive. I was hoping he would make it through just one more Christmas, but he passed away on December 18^th. We weren’t able to bury him until two weeks later because of the heavy rains we were having, and we had to get the hole cleared of water so that we could put his little makeshift casket in it.

I took some time to mourn the loss of the cat I had always considered my “furry child,” and barely had time to breathe when my husband was told by his doctor that he should have a stent put in his arm to prepare for dialysis (he is not diabetic, but we will leave his story for some other time). He was scheduled for surgery at the start of the second week of February, and had to go in a second time a week later to clear clots out of the tube.

As he was recovering from his surgery, we noticed that Spooks was looking a bit round in the belly, and we knew something was going to be happening soon. It was time to find a way to get both kittens off the street and away from the toms, before Lovey ended up like her sister, if she wasn’t already. We discussed arrangements for the two cats with our neighbors, agreeing no one would be considered either cat’s owners, and that we would share the expenses of getting them taken care of before they populated the entire neighborhood. It was decided that Lovey would go in first, to make sure she wasn’t in a family way like her sister, and start her on the road to a neutered, healthy life.

Once at the vet, we were advised that both kittens had to come indoors until after Spooks had her kittens, and Lovey had to go on an antibiotic for an infection before she could be spayed. Since we knew this meant we would get attached to Lovey and therefore want to keep her, we decided we may as well just consider her ours now and adopt her into the family. This posed a problem with Spooks however, because she was barely socialized enough to let us touch her while she was eating. Even that was at a very extended arm’s length, because she just did not trust humans enough for anything else yet.

We were still trying to figure out how to get Spooks into our neighbor’s house for the duration of her pregnancy and nursing period, when my husband and I stopped for lunch near one of the pet stores in the area. It dawned on me then, that I hadn’t checked with any rescues to see if they could help. We stopped at the one running adoptions in the pet store nearby, and they said they’d be more than happy to take Spooks. All we had to do was get her to the pet store by 3. We finished our errands and went home to find Spooks in the garage, eating. After obtaining a few battle scars (me, not the hubby), we had her in a cat carrier and on her way to the pet store, yowling the entire trip.

Just after this, at the beginning of March, we finished giving Lovey her antibiotic, then discovered she had worms. Unfortunately, this meant every animal in the house needed worming medicine, so we had to take the cats who hadn’t seen the vet in a while to be examined, and that took care of the vet budget for the month. It was about the middle of March when we noticed that Lovey was looking a little round in the belly. Apparently she had only just gotten pregnant when we took her in. So, Spooks gave birth on March 23^rd while in foster care, to four kittens. Lovey gave birth here, on April 18^th, but only had two kittens. They will be ready for adoption around June 13^th.

Lovey with her kittens, Bullet and Ditto.

So, life has been rather busy, mostly with animals. There have been other things going on as well, but nothing quite as involved as all I’ve posted here. I haven’t been able to do as much research on fibromyalgia as I have wanted to, but hopefully my next blog post will be more about what I have learned so far, rather than what is keeping me from staying on track with this.

I Think I Tripped Over A Rabbit Hole

I have had a lot of trouble with the Fibromyalgia lately, so I decided to take my supervisor's advice and ask my doctor to fill out paperwork allowing me to take my sick days under FMLA (Family Medical Leave Act). This is a federal law that allows you to take up to 12 consecutive weeks off, or multiple days throughout the year, to recover from or manage an illness. I saw the doctor this past Monday, and was excited to learn that a medication commonly used to treat depression had recently been approved by the FDA to treat FM. He said that, among other things, it was found to have a positive effect on the peripheral nervous system receptors, which is suspected to be part of the problem for FM sufferers. I was very excited to hear this, and thought to myself that I might be able to get a part of my life back that I had recently lost to this condition. He sent a prescription order to the pharmacy and had me leave the FMLA forms with his medical assistant. I asked my husband to pick it up for me the next day, and took my first pill that evening.

At this point, I was dealing with a new pain which I had thought was a migraine, but my prescription migraine medicine hadn't affected it at all, even after taking the maximum dosage allowed. I realized how good this medicine was for FM, when just 30 minutes after taking it, the pain I was experiencing was gone! I could not believe how quickly and thoroughly it had resolved my pain.

I should point out that, based on the way I had reacted to another medication last year, I was cautious and had read about the side effects online before taking it, but when I was reading the insert that came with it (after taking my first dose), I noticed there were precautions for those who were also taking migraine medication. I got back online to review drug interactions, and became concerned that my particular medicine could interact in such a way as to cause a severe adverse reaction that could lead to death, if the signs were overlooked and counter measures not taken promptly. I read what it said to watch for, and started making mental notes of everything unusual.

The first day I took it, I developed a mild nausea, and noticed that I felt as though I was dreaming at some points, for brief periods. I presume that this was in part because the medication is in a time-release capsule form, and every time a little more of the medication went into my system, I would feel my body respond to it. The next morning, I decided to wait until I was at work to take it, so that it would not affect my driving ability, and that I would take the second dose I was supposed to take when I got home. While at work, I noticed that there were times where I felt that dreamy feeling, as well as times when I felt I couldn't concentrate or maintain focus. The nausea, however, had remained constant from the first dose. I also had occasional trouble following other people's lines of thought. When I got home and took my third dose, all these symptoms were still present, and I experienced my first serious side effect from the medication.

That evening, I was typing a comment to someone on my Facebook page, when suddenly, my left arm developed a mind of its own. Bap!Bap!Bap! went my left hand on the keyboard. I thought, of course, "this isn't good." I had read that tremors and involuntary movements were side effects of the medication, so I decided I should probably talk to my doctor in the morning about this. I continued my typing, and it happened again. Later, after I had given myself a break, I was typing something else, and it happened a third time. By now I was completely annoyed with my arm and decided to hang up the keyboard for the night.

When I got up Thursday, I didn't really feel well. In fact, I didn't really feel like myself, but I went into the kitchen to get ready for my day. I noticed that I felt a bit weak, and as if I had run a marathon and gotten winded. I also noticed a bit of a flutter, but thought nothing of it at the time. I tried to push through these feelings, and started making my breakfast and lunch for the day. I got my oatmeal in a bowl and my teabag in a cup, then proceeded to start making my sandwich. I got the bread out and cut, and the lettuce rinsed and dried. Then I had to sit down. For 10 minutes. I got up and tried again, and got the meat and cheese out, then I had to sit down again. I had almost finished making my sandwich, and I had the same feeling come over me, and had to sit down one more time. I felt my breath was gone, and as though I was gasping for air. That's when I knew it was time to go to the emergency room.

I called my husband, who was away since Wednesday visiting his Mom, after waking my son to tell him to get ready to take me to the hospital. I started to get dressed to go, and that's when I felt my very first, ever so slight, twinge of pain in my chest. "This is really not good," I thought. After my son helped me to take care of our cats and our dog, we got in the car and headed to the emergency room. Once there, I went up to the window and explained my symptoms and added, "I think I'm having a bad reaction to my new medicine." The young man at the window poo-pooed the idea, saying it would have happened on the day I first started taking it, if it were that. I thought, "Fine, Mr. Know-it-all-who-isn't-even-a-doctor, I'll just list my symptoms on the form and let you guys figure it out."

After returning the paperwork, I was taken into the triage area, where the nurse there asked me, "What do you think is going on? You look fine to me." I shot her a look and again explained my symptoms. She went through all the normal questions, did I smoke or drink etc., and wrote down my responses. She then turned over the paperwork to another nurse and continued to go over my symptoms and history, asking me what else I had besides depression, since my medication was for depression. Another look, and I explained, politely, that I have FM and that the doctor had prescribed this medication for it, based on the FDA approval. Then she asks again, do I smoke or drink. I look at her. The guy who was helping looks at her with a "gotcha" grin on his face, and says quietly, "No, she doesn't. It's right here where you wrote it."

After eating a bit of humble pie, Nurse Attitude takes my vitals, then preps me for an EKG. A tech comes in and administers the test, then the male nurse points me to some chairs where I need to wait for blood draw. After that, I was led to the bed they were assigning me for the moment. A few more questions, a blood pressure cuff and a pulse rate sensor, then the doctor finally comes in and interviews me for more information. He told me he didn't find anything medically to base my symptoms on except for the new medicine, but was going to have a chest x-ray done and run some other tests to be sure. When all was said and done, that was the final diagnosis - medication side effects. I was sent home with more papers and instructions, and told only to go to work if I felt up to it. I called my doctor once I got home and left a message, and he was supposed to call me back that evening, but here we are into the weekend and he still has not called.

I was able to work Friday, but still had some difficulty with shortness of breath and weakness, so I kept my movements slow and relaxed to avoid additional problems. I haven't taken any of the new medicine since Wednesday night, but it was still working its way out of my system Friday. I am not feeling any of the symptoms now, so I'm certain, since today is the day it should be fully washed out of my system, that everything I experienced starting on Tuesday was a direct result of the medication, and I have no plans to take any more of it. I also plan to call my doctor on Monday to find out why he hasn't called me back to discuss things like trying a different medicine.

Yesterday, I was going over the written instructions that the hospital gave me about my aftercare, and found an interesting notation: "Continue to take all medication." Yeah, right.

Bumpy Ride

I need to give some background here, for those who don't read my Facebook status posts.

My son is 26 years old. His only exercise is walking the grounds where he works security. He weighs over 300 lbs, and several weeks ago had an accident at work that required treatment. It was discovered then that he had life-threateningly high blood pressure. He was prescribed medication and told he would have to get treated by a regular doctor to continue the medicine, but since he has no insurance, he wanted to try food supplements to keep his blood pressure down. We picked up what his friend had recommended, and I split the cost with him (he does have to pay for some of what he uses around here). Even though it was in the house, he admitted he wasn't using it as directed.

One week ago today, my husband and I went to do some shopping together, after my son complained of not feeling well in the morning. He made it sound like it was nothing serious, just a bit of stomach discomfort he was having. We got quite a bit done while we were out. When we came home, my son revealed he was feeling a heaviness in his chest, and that it occasionally traveled up into his throat. My husband's family has dealt with heart disease on his father's side, so we knew these were symptoms of a heart attack. I offered to take him to the hospital, but he said that he didn't think it was necessary. My husband told him he was going, like it or not.

Since my husband had to leave for work, I was obviously going to be the "ambulance driver." I took him down, and as soon as they heard the words "chest pain," the staff got my son prepped for an EKG. After that, he was then placed in a bed in the ER. I was with him the entire 5 hours. As it turns out, it was not his heart, but his pressure had again become too high because he had done nothing for it in 5 days. The doctor prescribed the medication he had been given originally, and strongly urged him to follow up with a clinic. He also made other recommendations, which my son has taken to heart.

The next day, Sunday, I really wanted to go to church, as health issues had kept us home the prior two weeks. Fatigued from the previous day's events, we attended services and went straight home. I sat like a lump on the sofa, then laid down there and tried to stay awake long enough to say goodbye to my husband when he left for work, which I was barely able to do. The last thing I remembered was the dog licking my bare toes and laying down in front of the couch. I did not wake up again until almost 4pm. The rest of the evening I couldn't seem to do anything, and felt like crying until I went to bed for the night.

I was supposed to go to a game with friends after work Monday, but the fatigue from the weekend just stayed with me all day, so I had to call and cancel at the last minute. I even worried about how well I would do on Wednesday, because we had Bible study and I didn't know if my energy would last the night, but I made it there and home okay. Thursday, I had promised to work with my son on his walking per the doctor's recommendation and a friend's suggestion to help me with my own condition, so even though I was tired, we walked twice around our block, a total of 30 minutes.

Friday morning came, and my head and neck were giving me serious pain. I took some medication and laid back down, hoping to be able to go in late to work. By the time it was time to call in, I suspected I wasn't going to make it. I also felt the fatigue affecting my body as well. I finally ended up taking a larger dose of medicine than I like to take, only to end up feeling doped up, as I expected it would do. I wasn't feeling the pain anymore, but now I was sleepy and fatigued.

This morning, I woke up feeling somewhat okay, but as the morning has worn on, I have felt my pain returning in my neck, which means I'll have to take another doping dose of my medicine in order to function halfway. I have also felt some residual fatigue, so I know I won't be able to go walking this evening with my son. I'm hoping to go with him tomorrow, unless he walks by himself tonight, which means he and I will walk on Monday.

It seems I am rather cranky today, along with the pain and fatigue, and can't help feeling like crying again. It's almost as if I'm going through this cyclically. I just want this to stop so that I can go back to being my positive self, not this "woe-is-me" person I seem to be becoming. I am also upset at the thought that much of my blog posts have been somewhat depressing, and not seeming to me to help much with education on my condition, which was part of my original hope. In fact, some of what I wanted to study about fibromyalgia remains unread, as I have been dealing with life and not finding much brain power available for study, especially this past week.

If only Calgon really could take me away. Even if "he" could, I don't know that it would help much.

From Ignorance to Understanding

It has been a while since my last blog entry, so I thought it was time to touch base again. I've decided to start this off with the history of my "evolution of understanding" of FM.

When I first heard, in the course of my work, there was a disorder by the name fibromyalgia, I had no clue about what it was or how severe it could be. By the sound of the name, I concluded it probably had something to do with muscle or nerve fibers, and some form of pain. I did not know what the source or cause of the pain could be, or what body parts were affected.

Any time we have doctors providing a new diagnosis that we are not familiar with and cannot get info about through our own resources, we generally tend to send people to doctors our agency pays for, to get a second opinion and get more information about the disease. When that was the case for this disorder, I sent a few patients to doctors for additional information. In some cases, the doctors felt there was no reason the patient could not work, while in others, the doctors felt the patient needed much more time off and should be evaluated for what they believed would be a more definitive diagnosis. I believe they were looking for traditional diagnoses like lupus, osteoarthritis, rheumatoid arthritis, or something similar to these, since so many symptoms of fibromyalgia mimic these conditions.

In one instance, I happened to speak with one of the doctors we use. He described fibromyalgia as, in his opinion, a psychosomatic "designer diagnosis" in which the patient would benefit much more from psychiatric care than treatment with an internist. At the time, not knowing much at all about the disorder, I accepted his evaluation almost as gospel, and began viewing claims with this diagnosis with a more critical eye. I wanted to send these patients to psychiatric evaluations, based on what that doctor told me, but the rules state we can only send them to the type of doctor that would normally treat the defined illness or injury, which was always either an internist or rheumatologist.

Not realizing I was already showing signs of this very illness, I began to believe that these patients were either faking or manifesting symptoms due to some deep-seeded emotional issues they weren't dealing with. It took several years for this opinion to change, through training and resource updates, along with what I learned through personal interviews with affected patients. I eventually came to realize how seriously this condition affects people, and noted (as found in my research once I was diagnosed) that it affects women more often than men.

After realizing that FM was a definite, often debilitating, genuine diagnosis, but before knowing I had it, I met a lady at the church we attended who has it. I was cautioned not to hug her too tight, as she is often in a lot of pain. I later met another woman with it, when I began participating in a monthly game with some ladies in the community. Then a woman transferred to our office who had been diagnosed with it as well, and I started to see the daily struggles of a fibromyalgia sufferer. I really felt for her, because I could see her struggling to continue to work a regular schedule, but often being struck down either by the associated depression or just debilitating pain that would not allow her to continue to work during the course of a day. She became one of my primary resources when I began to research after my initial diagnosis, and shared with me that yet another woman I already knew, who worked as a manager in another office, also has FM. I have been amazed at the number of people I am acquainted with or know, who have this condition besides myself.


Me and my coworker/co-sufferer.

In speaking with my coworker, I came to find that her path to understanding the disorder was not much different than my own. In fact, we joked about "payback," finding humor in the somberness of our condition. She shared with me some of the odd symptoms she had had early on, and how, like me, she didn't think her symptoms lined up well enough for it to be FM, but later found they were just early signs of the disease, which now is quite evident to her. We have in common that we denied having this condition initially, and later had to face facts about it being a part of our lives. She has even shared with me a bit of the history of her going through the rule-out phase, which was a bit different than mine because she gets her care through a medical group, while my care is through a private practice doctor. Each has a different method of doing what results in the same thing; evaluation, diagnosis, treatment.

I have also spoken with the lady in the group I participate with for a monthly get-together, in which we play a game (Bunco, sort of like Yahtzee but not). She has shared of some others she knows with FM and are in much worse shape than we are, and the stories she shared quite honestly, have made me very nervous. I have tried to speak with my church friend about it, but she seems to be reluctant, most likely because many of us find ourselves becoming unreasonably depressed when the realization comes across us about how much worse things could get or have become. To explain; one of the clients who I have encountered recently, appears to be close to the point of being permanently disabled from working due to the severity of her pain. She has to take narcotics to dull the pain, and is still so miserable it is hard for her to get out of bed. It is a horrifying thought to think that I might end up in just as much pain, if the symptoms progress.

Finally, I am realizing how widespread FM is, because even since becoming a member of a social networking site, I have encountered several women who have it, at varying degrees. I have been hoping that I would meet more through my blog, but so far no one has come forward to comment about their own condition and share how it has affected them.

Many of my posts to now have been going over things from a historical perspective, to explain how I came to determine my topic for a blog of any kind and why I believe I should write this blog. From this point on, I expect my posts to be about what I experience as a result of having this, including symptoms, nuggets of wisdom through self-education, and interaction with others in the FM community. If you feel you have something to contribute to discussions on this topic, or even simple words of encouragement, by all means please leave a comment below. Feedback is most definitely welcome!

Countdown to "D" Day

I suppose it might be a good idea to give some background on how I came to be diagnosed. A few years ago, we started having a little trouble with our doctor's office. The doctor was (and still is) great, but her staff was a bit, well, clueless. I deal with doctor's offices on a daily basis, so I know a bit about which ones have their act together on different things. Hers didn't, and with every staff change, seemed to get worse. Roughly one year later, she became less and less available, and the corporation that ran the doctor's office brought in a guy who looked like he came out of retirement to rejoin the medical field, to help out. Believe me when I tell you, he wasn't much help.

About this time, my husband ended up in the hospital and another doctor checked up on him while we were there. Our frustrations with our doctor's unavailability and her staff's apparent lack of competence were already causing us to consider finding a new doctor, but we hadn't actually decided to do so. Jim decided to approach this doctor about the possibility of taking us on as patients, and his reply was twofold: First, he normally handles geriatric patients and patients with serious, chronic medical conditions (like Jim's); and second, when he found out who our current doctor was, he was reluctant to agree because the other doctor is a good friend of his, and taking us on when we were her established patients created a moral dilemma for him that he did not want to deal with.

Before making the final decision to definitely look for a new doctor, we took the opportunity of speaking with the doctor we had had since moving to this city (up to that point, we had lived here 8 years). When we mentioned our concerns, she admitted that she had been frustrated about her staff situation as well, but she tried to avoid the question about her availability until we pressed her, and she finally admitted that she was leaving this practice to open her own in another city, a bit too far away from us for us to remain her patients. It was then that we felt free to find a new doctor.

Unfortunately for me, this would be easier said than done. Jim went straight to our old doctor's friend and colleague, while I began to search for a doctor who would be comfortable treating me, since I was neither geriatric nor did I have, to my knowledge, any serious conditions. I checked out a doctor who sounded perfect, and happened to be within walking distance of our home, only to discover that he also runs the local urgent care out of his office. Making an appointment with him would not guarantee I would be seen as scheduled, because he would have to take urgent cases above scheduled appointments. I found that there were problems at almost every office I looked into, that would not allow me to make any of them my location of choice for primary care. Because of this, I reluctantly called my husband's new doctor for an appointment.

While waiting in the office for my first appointment eight months ago, I was required to complete an intake form that asked a LOT of detailed questions about my health, so I listed all the aches, pains and symptoms I had had for some time, but hadn't really detailed to my prior doctor. I noted family history and personal history, and the new doctor reviewed each of these and discussed all the nuances of each complaint along with a bit of in-depth on the history, before beginning his medical examination. He also asked about sleeping habits (hours per night), then started checking several points on my body for my response to normal pressure applied at those points, as I discussed in my first blog. These points are known as "trigger points."

This is when the doctor made his initial, tentative diagnosis, explaining that bloodwork would have to be done to rule out other conditions, and explaining why he was looking in this direction: My sleep habits were poor (they still are, but not as bad, and not for lack of trying to improve things), and I have a history of physical trauma to the body (actually more than one for me, over the course of my lifetime). I also have symptoms of atypical depression, which is apparently another indicator, when evidenced in conjunction with the other factors he was finding in me. While these are not the only factors to look at in diagnosing fibromyalgia, They are, apparently, a few of the biggies.

After all the tests are done, everything else it could be has been ruled out. The doctor is encouraging, saying it is actually good news because this is a condition that should not prevent me from doing most things, although I may have to make a few minor adjustments in my life to avoid flareups. I have to admit, even though the doctor is speaking positively about this, I almost feel like I've been sucker-punched, considering what I knew about it before, plus what I've been learning lately. Having done some research while waiting for the tests to be completed, I am surprised to find that there are many things about me that pointed to this before now. I'll talk about them a bit another time.

Just A Little Out of Sorts

So I'm at the doctor's office in October 2009, seeing my new doctor for the first time, and going over my medical history. I describe how I have noticed that lately I have been getting depressed about little things that didn't used to bother me. I also describe to him my general fatigue and how I can occasionally feel disinterested in things. I add descriptions of my different little aches and pains (migraines, chronic neck problems, chronic back pains), so he begins a physical exam that includes pressing on different joints. He asks if it hurts, and at first I say "no," because to say that slight twinge of pain 'hurts' feels like it would be lying. Then he touches my left knee. "OW." He looks at me again with concern, then starts the pressing over again; "does this hurt, even just a little bit?" This time I am more honest with him and myself; yes, it hurts. But hardly at all, except for that knee.

At this point, the doctor tells me his initial diagnosis, which quite literally took my breath away: Fibromyalgia. He ordered several blood tests because, as he put it, this is a diagnosis of exclusion, meaning he would have to rule pretty much everything else out in order to say for certain whether this was or wasn't what I have. Everything else came up negative, so there is no longer any doubt.

Allow me to give you a bit of my background: I am a female, in my late forties, and I work in a government office that pays insurance benefits to folks who are disabled, usually for only a short period of time. I have been doing this particular job for about 21 years, but I started working for the government 31 years ago. For the first six years of my son's life, I was a single mother, but for nearly twenty years I have been happily married to the man my son now calls "Pop" and "Dad."

I have been noticing for the past few years how it has become increasingly difficult to do many things I enjoy, along with doing things that really need to get done around the house. Originally, I didn't think anything of it, because I presumed it was just part of the aging process. Then I started realizing that many women who were older than me, were running circles around me in these areas, including my own mother, who is currently in her eighties. When she visited from out of state, I thought the reason I was getting so worn out was because I was exhausted from trying to get everything 'just right' before she arrived, and that I hadn't given myself an opportunity to relax. I remember wondering how she does it, the day she dragged me out to my yard to help me clean it up (on her vacation), and when we ran out of daylight, she insisted on baking cookies for my husband and my son, involving me in the process. She could have gone on all night, but before the first batch went into the oven, I was ready to fall into bed and rest my tired body. The next day, I took a handful of ibuprofen and steeled myself for all that I knew she would want to do. I was more tired when she left, than when she first got here.

When the doctor first uttered that 'F' word, I hesitantly looked for information in the resource material they provide at my job, as well as trying to find places to go online that would help me understand the disorder. I also started talking with a coworker who has been diagnosed with the same disorder. I thought at first that my symptoms didn't match up, until I had a lengthy conversation with my coworker about it. What she described to me about how this affected her early on, and even now, lines up almost exactly with what I've been experiencing. Now that I have started to come to terms with this diagnosis, I have decided to make an effort to try to share my thoughts and experiences about this with all of you through this blog, hoping that this form of 'self-therapy' will also benefit others who are coming to terms with the same diagnosis, or suffer from any type of chronic pain. I plan to describe my journey in a bit more detail in my future blogs, in the hope that this will be as helpful for you as I intend.

Thanks for riding along.