I've read a lot of articles, books, pamphlets and newsletters about fibromyalgia over the past 13 years, since my brother was diagnosed with it while in the military. When I was diagnosed with it, I cried like a baby with a diaper pin stuck in its ass for a bit, then told my memory to bring up all those facts, theories and piles of advice I'd stored and tell me what to do.
Well, it's been a chunk of years since my medical records had that pesky ol' FMS added, and I can tell you that all of those things I read, those priceless pieces of information to help ease the daily pain are fluttering away in the breeze of my goddamn fibro-fog. I'm stupid more often than not these days, can't concentrate to save a baby duckling's life, the depression is creeping back...man, fuck this shit. If this is, indeed, the worst case of fms my docs have ever seen, then someone had better come up with a fucking cure that does not contain fucking lactose with the quickness.
I'm bitching, I know, but that is what this bloggyblog is for; just look up at the page's name if you don't believe me.
You know the dumbest part? I don't even remember what I came on here to post about in the first place.
(And no, it was not about the stupid day of cheap wine and apologetic roses. I hate this fucking "holiday".)
Oh! I remember. I'm pissed because the symptoms of my fms are so fucking fuckled that it is seemingly impossible for my doctors to get any other sort of diagnosis to happen.
There. I remembered. High five to me.
Now I'm going to get off of this computer and do something constructive that won't hurt.
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