They did not just say the s word (actually it would be the n word in Korea).  That’s just not fair.  Best I can do is a tee shirt under a long sleeve tee with a wool too small sweater on top.

Thank goodness for the bed-warmer.  At least I get to be toasty at night.



Anyone out there in fibro land seem to bruise easily?  And/or have bruises hang around longer than normal.  Or even grow in size?

Last year I had a bruise on my hand from an IV site that was there for 4 weeks and for a while kept growing.  Just when Dr. P was going to send me to a hematologist, it started shrinking.

I have another one again from an IV stick two weeks ago.  It’s still pretty small (the size of a nickel?) but does seem to be growing.  I see Dr. P tomorrow.

Dr. K wrote me a referral to a new rheumatologist at one of the university hospitals.  Dr. H has decided to stop listening to what I say.  He was all like, you don’t have rheumatoid arthritis.  Fine.  Whatever.  I get that.  But my hands still hurt like hell and I’m having trouble opening jars of stuff.  I’ve got a jar of spaghetti sauce in my cabinet that I doubt I’ll ever get open.

And I’m tired.  I’m so tired.  I gotta get up early tomorrow so I can see Dr. P and maybe fit in a visit to Dr. K.  Oh yeah, he gave me the wonderful news that I have tendonitis in my right Achilles tendon.  And for no good reason.


For those of you who don’t speak abbreviation soup (and it took me 5 minutes to remember the word abbreviation), those would be Activities of Daily Living.

Yeah, I’m starting to get big fails on those.  Open a jar of spaghetti sauce: Fail.  Opening a bottle of juice: Fail.  Lift up a 2L bottle of water out of the refrigerator: Fail.  Do a load of laundry without stopping at least twice to rest: Fail.  Getting out of bed without a chair there to support myself: Fail.  Walking steps normally: Fail.

Everything takes ten times longer.  Except for showers.  I’ve got those down to a 4 minute science.  The water hitting my skin hurts too much.

I feel like one big failure.  I can’t even reach up to the top of the white board.  I’m limited to about eye height.

I know stress is making things worse.  But I’m seriously trying not to kill people at work.  If all goes well, I’m out of there in two weeks.  I may break down and beg the new school to let me sign a contract earlier and work on other things (oye, I think I’m the IT person now) before I’d actually start teaching.


Saw my p-doc yesterday.  He’s concerned that I may be having episodes of hypoglycemia.  He even gave me four rolls of glucose tablets.  I don’t know if this is part of the fibro or not.  But he’s thinking that the panic attacks I’ve been having are more to do with my blood sugar bottoming out.

It doesn’t help that I have no appetite.  I have to force myself to eat, and then only because they serve dinner at work.  I usually eat about a quarter cup of rice and maybe the soup if it doesn’t look too seaweed-ish (don’t get me wrong, I like seaweed, but only in its dried form).

And if you’re wondering, starting an IV on a dehydrated, hypotensive, hypothermic patient is a whole lot of fun.  Something like 15 sticks to get it in.  Amazingly, the only place I bruised is where they finally got it in on the side of my foot.

And since I haven’t eaten all day (yeah, I know), I’m shaking and dizzy and starting to feel panicky, I’m going to try one of these whopping tablet things.

What? Hold the Train?

What the heck.  A small burst of energy?  As in I got up and did stuff before work.  Even the day went quickly.  Also found out the  teacher I replaced did not do the debates in the book called “Exploring Debate”.  Uhm, yeah.  I kind of though that was the purpose.

I only had to go off on one student today.  She decided it would be fun to shred paper during class.  Everyone else left and I handed her the broom and told her to sweep it up.  We have to clean our classrooms every night.  Because I spend the bulk of my time running around, mine never gets dirty enough to *really* need swept every night.  I do it usually on MWF.  But damn if I was  going to waste my precious energy on sweeping up because the kid (a middle schooler) was too bored to pay attention.
There, now I feel better.