The first pain manageable post drug days (I am still coming to terms) really drove home how much I had lost over the past few years. Not just the relationships – sometimes you’re there for people who don’t have the capacity to be there for you at that moment (and vice versa) and it’s okay to have those people exit. I had even offered the husband an out but he stubbornly sticks with me through the exhausting. It, the manageable days following, revealed how much of my day to day I had given up.
After a few weeks of adjusting to the meds, once my pain was to a low roar (and even some days a meow), I was up and helping around the house. I wasn’t grabbing as much take out in an effort to go straight to bed. I even cooked a few really nice healthy dinners without dropping anything. I spent an entire day in the garden trimming.. and even had a glass of wine after. I was able dye my own hair and rid myself of the stubborn grey streak I had been ignoring. I had all these joyful day to day moments back.. it was glorious.
Then one day, after moving furniture high on my newfound normal-ish body, I had what I was to eventually learn was a flare. The concept of flares was unknown to me. Unlike some of the stories I encountered, I had pretty much been in pain most days. So, after a few weeks of feeling functional (and maybe reveling in it a tad too much), the fibro Gods gave me a smack down. There was a smidge of excessive whining, a return of much of the old pain holding hands with some new and exciting pain.. joy (not), and a lot of taking things easy. I realized changes were in order if I was going to live with this new me in some sort of peace..