Monday, January 26, 2004
Rave of the Day for January 26:
This is an excellent letter posted on Fibrohugs by ScribNik. And judging by my state of mind today, not an altogether inappropriate one...
To Friends & Family:
In a perfect world, I could make this easier for you to understand. I would simply allow your consciousness to occupy my physical body. Trust me, in five minutes, you'd be screaming to get out. Unfortunately, this world is far from perfect. Words will have to suffice.
Yes, I know I look fine. Did you expect to find lesions, pustules, bruises, or lacerations? The fibromonster resides in my central nervous system, not in my skin. Besides, you don't see me when I'm in flare, because I stay in bed. If you did, you would clearly observe the footprints of the fibromonster. They are evident in the dark circles under my eyes, my hunched posture, the tear tracks running down my cheeks, and the haunted look in my eyes.
Yes, I am depressed. Please don't tell me to cheer up. Depression is a biochemical disease, not a state of mind I can change with a wave of my magic wand. Besides, you would be depressed, too, if you were forced to live with chronic pain. On a "good" day, I merely feel like I've been run through a cement mixer, somewhat similar to the excruciating aches and pains that accompany the flu. On a "bad" day, I feel like gremlins armed with steak knives are attacking me. No part of my body is exempt from their attentions. They are thorough in their ministrations. And I cannot escape them.
Yes, I am anxious. I live in an environment fraught with peril. The fibromonster causes sensory overload. Bright lights and loud noises are painful to me. A light tap on the shoulder can bring me to tears. Every movement of my body brings a cascade of painful sensations. Imagine, if you will, that the simple act of taking a shower caused you horrific pain. Let me elucidate. The pressure of the water on my skin feels like tiny fists are punching me all over my body. Washing my hair is painful and tiring. The contortions one must get into to get one's body clean are torturous. When you take a shower, it's almost an autonomous process. When I take a shower, it's a visit with Torquemada.
Yes, you see me smile and laugh often. I have done my research, and know that smiles and laughter release endorphins, the body's natural pain killer. Chronic pain does not preclude some enjoyment of life, you know. Besides, my mood constantly walks the line between rational and hysterical. I laugh so that I do not weep. Because, if I started crying, I might not be able to stop.
Yes, I am still a human being. I have hopes and dreams, just like you. I experience happiness, sadness, anger, and love, just like you. I expect justice and fair treatment, just like you. I need encouragement and affection, just like you. Most of all, I need understanding from you. Please don't treat me like a leper, or like a porcelain doll. Include me in your plans, with the realization that I may have to cancel at the last minute. Converse with me about things other than fibromyalgia and chronic pain. While my life must revolve around these conditions, they do not define me.
Most of all, please do not judge me. Certainly, it is difficult to understand that which you have not experienced. I am more than willing to try and help you understand. But, you must discard your preconceptions first. The pain I experience is not "all in my head." I have a genuine, physiological medical condition. That portion of my brain that governs pain management is dysfunctional, causing normally non-painful sensory stimuli to be experienced as pain. It is not an emotional condition, but a biochemical one. And there is no cure. If you love me, you must accept that the fibromonster resides inside me. And you must be patient with me. I need your support now more than ever.
To Friends & Family:
In a perfect world, I could make this easier for you to understand. I would simply allow your consciousness to occupy my physical body. Trust me, in five minutes, you'd be screaming to get out. Unfortunately, this world is far from perfect. Words will have to suffice.
Yes, I know I look fine. Did you expect to find lesions, pustules, bruises, or lacerations? The fibromonster resides in my central nervous system, not in my skin. Besides, you don't see me when I'm in flare, because I stay in bed. If you did, you would clearly observe the footprints of the fibromonster. They are evident in the dark circles under my eyes, my hunched posture, the tear tracks running down my cheeks, and the haunted look in my eyes.
Yes, I am depressed. Please don't tell me to cheer up. Depression is a biochemical disease, not a state of mind I can change with a wave of my magic wand. Besides, you would be depressed, too, if you were forced to live with chronic pain. On a "good" day, I merely feel like I've been run through a cement mixer, somewhat similar to the excruciating aches and pains that accompany the flu. On a "bad" day, I feel like gremlins armed with steak knives are attacking me. No part of my body is exempt from their attentions. They are thorough in their ministrations. And I cannot escape them.
Yes, I am anxious. I live in an environment fraught with peril. The fibromonster causes sensory overload. Bright lights and loud noises are painful to me. A light tap on the shoulder can bring me to tears. Every movement of my body brings a cascade of painful sensations. Imagine, if you will, that the simple act of taking a shower caused you horrific pain. Let me elucidate. The pressure of the water on my skin feels like tiny fists are punching me all over my body. Washing my hair is painful and tiring. The contortions one must get into to get one's body clean are torturous. When you take a shower, it's almost an autonomous process. When I take a shower, it's a visit with Torquemada.
Yes, you see me smile and laugh often. I have done my research, and know that smiles and laughter release endorphins, the body's natural pain killer. Chronic pain does not preclude some enjoyment of life, you know. Besides, my mood constantly walks the line between rational and hysterical. I laugh so that I do not weep. Because, if I started crying, I might not be able to stop.
Yes, I am still a human being. I have hopes and dreams, just like you. I experience happiness, sadness, anger, and love, just like you. I expect justice and fair treatment, just like you. I need encouragement and affection, just like you. Most of all, I need understanding from you. Please don't treat me like a leper, or like a porcelain doll. Include me in your plans, with the realization that I may have to cancel at the last minute. Converse with me about things other than fibromyalgia and chronic pain. While my life must revolve around these conditions, they do not define me.
Most of all, please do not judge me. Certainly, it is difficult to understand that which you have not experienced. I am more than willing to try and help you understand. But, you must discard your preconceptions first. The pain I experience is not "all in my head." I have a genuine, physiological medical condition. That portion of my brain that governs pain management is dysfunctional, causing normally non-painful sensory stimuli to be experienced as pain. It is not an emotional condition, but a biochemical one. And there is no cure. If you love me, you must accept that the fibromonster resides inside me. And you must be patient with me. I need your support now more than ever.
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