Since the writing of my last post regarding flare recovery, life has changed tremendously. A new normal has settled in; something of which I don’t believe anyone in their richest imaginations could have thought of. Sure, many have thought about a pandemic and what it’s possible outcomes would be. But in many cases, those dreamed-of outcomes are wild and spectacular with accessories akin to the destruction of human civilization (and possibly with the inclusion of zombies). In it’s place – a quarantine that isn’t a quarantine; get takeaway from your favorite restaurant, get provisions (or figure out alternatives that are still available), from your local grocer, work from home or hangout with friends and family online. And do this all while sitting in a waiting game to constructed to slow a virus down from running its course on humanity.
This new normal is in a word, weird, even for those of us who are prone to be introverts. We get up, putter around the house, do work if you are able to work from home, eat, stare at a TV or computer, go to bed, and repeat. All with this impending doom and fear of this virus sitting about our heads and shoulders. To me, it feels like a heavy rope of burden that you cannot quite get adjusted to, and therefore you feel its effects every moment of every day. And along with that heavy burden come questions we are all asking. Will my partner or I get the virus? Do we have it now and not know yet because we are in the asymptomatic phase? Can I keep my job a little longer? Dare I consider going out to get provisions today? How are my friends handling this? Do I have enough to get through this? How much longer do I have to endure?
The fibromyalgia, in this situation, has meant that ropy burden of quarantine has painful thorns brought on by the entire situation. My pain levels are constant, enough to ensure I have to watch what I do, but not enough to keep me in bed all the time (like I could do that anyway). The pain feels like it sits in my bones and joints much like it does when the weather changes or when there is high humidity and cold. But where before I could make it go away with a warmer sweater, extra OTC meds or gentle movement, now I cannot get rid of it. It wakes me up when I move in my sleep. It makes it hurt to sit, to stand, and sometimes it even hurts when sitting on my couch. Even my last-resort hydrocodone doesn’t always touch the pain.
The coping mechanisms for this frustrating feature of my new normal have been one of two things; either exercise, or eat. Building back my endurance from the February flare has been slow-going, which means exercise doesn’t help as much as I want it to. And that means I’m falling back to an even stronger urge to eat. Eating has it’s own problems, as I could very easily (and quickly) put back on all 80 pounds of weight I’d lost several years ago. I’ve always had eating problems as long as I can remember, and keeping that in mind I’ve forced myself to at least look at the calorie counts of what it was I was popping in my mouth to ensure I don’t go overboard.
And while I hurt, I know I’m probably one of the lucky ones. My husband is home with me. We have enough food in the house, which means we don’t have to go out often. Our housing situation is stable; and so far, working from home has been OK. And I’ve even engaged my husband in some spring cleaning activity. We have almost half the house done, and I’m still hoping to get his help on the rest of it before the end of this quarantine, as I’m sure when this is over, he’s going to take one look at me trying to hand him a bucket of cleaning solution and washcloths and run screaming.
Overall, things could be better, things could be worse. I’ll keep taking it day by day and hope things get better soon.