Some of you might remember that about 2 years ago now I started have trouble sleeping. As in waking up for the day at 4am. No matter what time I went to bed.
After a few months of various sleeping pills didn’t work, I was sent to the rheumatoid clinic. I was tested for every known type of arthritis. I had x-rays. It was determined that I have early degenerative disease in my left knee and hip.
And then I got pregnant. And any possible proof that I might have what they thought I had (fibromyalgia) went out the window as who can tell if you’re not sleeping and you hurt all over because of fibro or because of the big belly and kicking baby? So we agreed to postpone diagnosis until after the baby was born.
Yesterday was that diagnosis appointment. I have fibro.
So what makes today different from yesterday? Today my aches, pains and exhaustion have a name beyond ‘you have a 4 month old son’. The occasional weakness in my right hand has a cause.
Of course there is no cure for fibro. In the UK there isn’t even an approved drug for treatment. In fact when I mentioned to the doctor I saw yesterday that my mom has fibro and she takes some sort of medicine for it, he actually rolled his eyes and said ‘there is no drug that treats fibro.’ I raised my eyebrows at him, but let it drop.
The treatment is what I already do; ibuprofen/paracetamol, gentle exercise and plenty of rest. I can do all but the last. See aforementioned 4 month old son!
So I’ll keep popping ibuprofen at night and in the morning. I’ll keep taking walks with the pram. I’ll keep doing yoga.
And until the landlord finally gets the plumber here to sort it, I’ll keep yelling for Simon to turn on the cold tap in the kitchen on days my hands are too weak to manage it.
And avoid doing the washing up when he isn’t home…