I Have Fibromyalgia
*Disclaimer: This post I have Fibromyalgia first appeared on One Frazzled Mum published July 2019 and has been moved across to One Frazzled Fibro*
The dread washed over me as I made my way through the sliding doors. In my head, I knew what was coming next. Sure it was a different person this time, one more well known for her compassion, but none the less, I didn’t hold out much hope.
So I checked in on the screen at my GP surgery and took a seat. The anxiety coursing through me as I waited for my name to flash up on the big yellow screens overhead. It wasn’t busy. A smattering of people here and there, all too awaiting to see someone who could help them with their new or current problems.
But for me, I knew deep down it would be a wasted trip. It always was. Previous doctors all told me the same thing and then ordering tests to prove what they had been telling me. There was nothing wrong with me that losing some weight wouldn’t fix. Only, these issues were the cause of the extra weight. The pain, the exhaustion, the lack of concentration all contributing to a less mobile, less concerted effort to keep my weight down as pain stopped me from working and food became my crutch for a whole matter of things.
So today wasn’t going to be different. I knew it. I could feel it, as much as I could feel the pain radiating down my right side and in my neck.
Only this time, I was wrong, way wrong, and as I made my way back to the car, the relief flooded through me. There was a name, a diagnosis after all this time. I wasn’t making it up. Someone believed me. Someone wanted to help. It had been years since anyone had looked past my weight, even when the numbers on the scales were lower. It was always about my weight, but today, my weight was taken into account as part of the problem.
I have Fibromyalgia.
Deep down, I have known I have fibromyalgia for a long time now, but to finally hear those words come from someone else’s mouth was like music to my ears. I wasn’t fobbed off. I was listened to. I was spoken to as an equal by someone who wanted to get to the bottom of this.
In the small room, pretty similar to the ones on my past visits, in a surgery I have been attending for a whole manner of things since I was 13, my life changed. Not massively, but it changed all the same. We discussed my recent tests, all ordered to prove there was nothing wrong with me. All tests came back perfectly fine, including iron levels, cholesterol levels, and the all-important check for potential diabetes. I am pleased to say I passed all with flying colours. There is no cause for concern in many areas of my body and my health. In fact, the doctor was shocked at how healthy I was considering my weight.
Except for the ongoing relentless pain. The pain I experience all the time. In different parts of my body yet in my whole body all at the same time. It doesn’t stop. The restorative night’s sleep doesn’t come. It provides little to no relief. For those following my Facebook page, my discomfort and exhaustion are well chronicled. Usually in the form of a joke.
But living with constant pain isn’t a joke. I wished for someone to tell me they believed me and could help me. I was sick of being thought of as a hypochondriac and dismissed as another fat person living an unhealthy lifestyle. This had to end somewhere.
So what now?
Life goes on. There is no medication I can take. The GP advised it mostly doesn’t have much effect anyway. But my reactions to some medications mean this is something I need to manage myself. I have been referred to a pain management class for people living with fibromyalgia as right now, that is the best that can be prescribed for me.
So I will continue to work as I have been in my day job and on the blog. Nothing will stop just because I have fibromyalgia. I will keep up with my freelancing commitments and my thrice weekly Zumba classes (if anything, I need these more!). It will be business as usual as it has been for the past few years. Having a name for my problems doesn’t change anything; it doesn’t make it go away or even easier to manage.
It means I can stop beating myself up when I need to stop and take a break because I am too drained to do anything. It means that it is OK to admit you can’t do it all because your body can’t keep going. It means it isn’t me and it is most definitely isn’t in my head.
What it doesn’t mean is that I can’t give in to it. Nothing has changed. I will still do everything as usual, but I will stop beating myself when I can’t do it. I will still be as active as I can be but know that clearly, my body has its limitations. I will still be me.
Having a diagnosis is just that. An answer to a problem I have been trying to solve for a few years—the missing piece from my jigsaw puzzle. If you feel you may have fibromyalgia, please consult your GP. You can find more information on the NHS website.
