Eloquent

Ha Ha! Thanks Darrel, I'm definitely using that new adjective to describe myself. Dave says that is iffy but I'll take it.

Kind of amazing what more prozac, quality rest, and phone calls, texts, comments, etc can do for me personally, huh? Thank goodness the fury of the past few days is over. Phew! That was not good. I'm feeling much better. The phrase, "If Momma ain't happy ain't nobody happy" sure does apply in my household. How about yours?

I'm going to go back and tell you about Day #2 of my first treatment. We'll see how long my happy feelings last. Those are not good memories but they sure are a good story...if you're into that kind of thing. So kick back and listen to my kind of story telling.

It was an early morning spring in Texas...for me that means getting a ride from a lady from church, taking a toll road, driving 45 minutes or so, just to get to the infusion clinic by 7:45 am. Now that woman is a true friend, wouldn't you say? She asked for nothing in return.

This time I came much more prepared. No laptop. No books or movies. Just my water bottle, my meds (because I DID have to take them every 4 hours as prescribed so sometime in there I'm supposed to take prescription pain killers too. If I want to follow all my different rules. No wonder I carry a big purse!), a snack, earplugs, and an eye mask. And of course my cell phone. Because I'm supposed to text or somehow contact my ride home, remember. I believe it was another lady from church. Someone else took over and arraigned all of those rides for me...or maybe I did that myself...I don't really remember.

This time I've learned my lesson! Before I even begin I make sure I use the bathroom. I've even shaved my legs (even though I'm wearing my long comfy fibro pants) and I'm ready to just lie down and trust that I'll come out of whatever it is I'm doing. Of course I get my first question, "What is your pain level?" Who knows what I answered but since I've never gone below a 3 in years I can bet it was somewhere between a 3-7. That was my typical range most days.

This time, though, I'm not led to the private bedroom. Uh oh. I'm led to one of the Easy Boy chairs. Have you ever been on a plane for a 4 hour flight in an Easy Boy chair? Me neither. Wouldn't that be nice? But you probably have been belted in to some other kind of chair/seat for at least 4 hours and I doubt anyone would call it fun. But for me I took one look at that Easy Boy chair and I wanted to cry. It was hard. I wouldn't recline all the way flat. It had hard armrests. All that hardness around me is torture to someone with fibromyalgia. Plus I'm around everyone else who might not be able to see my face, I'm sure going to do my best not to cry out in pain, but there is no way they can't hear me rustling around on the paper pillow covers and everything else. There is NO WAY I can sit still for 4 hours. NO WAY I can enjoy this treatment. So what do I do? Whatever I can to get as comfortable as possible.

I kick off my shoes, put my water bottle and cell phone and earplugs and eye mask all at the ready. And I ask for as many pillows as I can get to surround myself with softness. They give me warm blankets again, too, if I want them. Who knows what I want? I sure don't. So I get hooked up to the iv again, instantly start getting drowsy from the sedatives in that there cocktail that someone has concotted for me (I have no idea who has done that...I've never met him in person. I don't even know if my prescribing doctor/nurse practioner has ever met him.) and try to relax like they tell me to. This time I have a newer model of heart monitor so I only need 3 probes hooked to my body instead of 5. (I shaved my legs for nothing!) And the good ole oxygen reader on my finger.

Just visualize this. What would YOUR pain level be? You are totally drugged with who knows what by who knows whom and now you get to sit there for 4 hours. Wondering what is going to happen. While you are still in so much pain you can't sit still. And you don't want to interrupt any/everyone else around you because they are in pain, too. Duh, that's why they are there! Some people say getting high is fun. Or relaxing. Not me. I say, "Don't do drugs!"

I toss, I turn, I fight the effects of who knows what medication because deep down I am me and I don't want anyone or anything taking away my "me ness". I don't even know if that makes sense to y'all. Sorry, Darrel, I'm not doing to well with the eloquentness. (Y'all like how I make up words now, too?)

I feel like I'm in heaven at times. Other times I feel like I'm in hell. Ouch, my leg has been resting against this arm rest covered by pillow for too long. How in the world do I turn over with all these wires attached? And where do I turn TO? It's just another hard arm rest on the other side...and this one doesn't have crinkly paper wrapped pillows all around it. Why can't I think? Is this blanket falling off my feet? Why do they keep it so cold in here? Hey, who is that lucky lady who has the bed over there? Uh oh, that lucky lady didn't learn not to go to the bathroom first off because now I see her having to be guided to the bathroom, too. Poor thing. I hope she doesn't run into walls or fall down like I thought I would. Hey, what time is it? How much longer do I have to be hooked up to this thing? Is it 10:00 and time for my prescription meds? Uh oh, how am I going to get that out of my purse? Do I really need that pill? I sure don't want it because don't I have enough stuff swirling through my veins right at this minute? Shift, rustle, try not to groan.

And then I maybe sleep. Or not. But I feel Jesus' presence all around me. He is cradling me in his arms while I am crying. He is telling me He loves me and that I'll be alright. He won't give me more than I can handle. But Jesus, I think this is as much as I can handle. I don't want to go back to my body. It hurts. Everywhere. All the time. Please, can't I stay with You? It's so peaceful here and there is no pain. But Jesus says no, I can't stay. I feel him gently lifting me off his lap and I feel myself drifting down. Down, down, down, to something I know not what. Am I'm really really scared.

I cry out, "Jesus, don't leave me! Where am I going?" He tells me He'll always be with me and that as soon as I feel the pulling stop I'll wake up and be back in my body. So I say goodbye and prepare for the pulling to stop.

"Beep. Beep. Beep." My iv line is now beeping because the infusion is done. That is what I wake up to. And a nurse comes right over and turns off the beeping and asks, "What is your pain level?" I stare blankly at her as I try to comprehend where I am, who I am, what in the world she is talking about. And then...SLAM...migraine. Big time. I don't think I took my 10:00 meds.

Oh yeah, I forgot. An anti nausea medication is typical in the cocktail, too, and I think there is some of that in mine. Or I could get it in there if I want/need it. Instead I must look like I'm going to hurl because she asks if I'd like some. I say no but I have some hydrocodone in my purse and I need that RIGHT NOW! Instead she gives me an injection of narcotics. And then I'm supposed to text my ride, somehow figure out how to get up, untangled, get my shoes on, go to the bathroom, and WALK out to meet my ride. All in a matter of minutes.

Here's some eloquent writing right here...that didn't happen. How could it? I was all kinds of a hot mess. And that's where I'll end today's blog. It makes me frown and have a look of disgust on my face. I know it because I feel that on my face right now. And I don't want to feel it anymore. So maybe I'd better go think about what we are going to have for dinner. Or find something else to think/do. Because I want to be happy.

Don't we all? Be careful what you think about today...it really affects your mood. But don't worry or think too much about me...I choose to be happy today :)