The Hidden Face of Fibromyalgia

I would love to know what makes me so heat sensitive. I went to a picnic today. It was in a park. Under a pavilion. It was somewhere in between 70 and 80, with a nice cool breeze, and very shaded. I barely broke a sweat. I had a really nice time. Ate some barbecue. Sat on a picnic bench. Chatted with several people. Didn’t even stay two hours.

Somewhere on the car ride between the park and Kathy’s, I started to labor. It felt like I couldn’t catch my breath, and I was light-headed. Suddenly I felt like jelly. As if I was a cloth that someone had wrung out. Closest feeling I could come, was the one time I’ve ever had heat stroke. (In my 20s.)

By the time we got to Kathy’s I was shaking, and felt as if I was going to collapse. It took the better part of an hour of sitting still, putting my head back occasionally, and letting my eyes drift closed before I started to feel like myself.

By 10:00pm, the crushing fatigue had hit, and I could barely stay awake. By the time we left at eleven, it felt like my legs wouldn’t support me. I was shaky and weaved my way down the driveway to the car, afraid I’d fall over.

Now, here I am in bed. A snack and an hour with Mom later. I hurt all over. It feels like someone has been beating me up with bags of wet sand. I ache from head to toe, and it was all I could do to lift my legs to take my shoes off. The very act of typing has my shoulders aching, and all I want to do is cry.

It’s hard to think that it was worth it – but it was. I got to spend time with other artists, socialize with people I admire, talk about fun things, eat good food, and I even got some great pictures of wildlife. Sometimes, though, it’s so hard to pay the price for these little things that I used to take for granted.