Speed humps in life

There used to be a sign near the road in front of our house that read, “BUMP.” One afternoon, three city workers took an hour to change out the sign. The neighborhood had asked for a STOP sign, so we were hopeful when we saw the BUMP sign coming down. To our surprise the city workers replaced our BUMP sign with one stating, “SPEED HUMP.”

Is “Speed Hump” infinitely more effective than “Bump”? I can’t say that I have reached that conclusion. My guess is that someone somewhere on the city’s payroll was able to cross off some task on a task list by changing the sign. Cars still speed by, using our street as a cut-through from one side of town to another. I have seen cars hit the hump/bump with great force, rattling the automobile as it lands on the other side of the hump/bump. If the rattling and knocking a car out of alignment isn’t a deterrent, I doubt changing the sign from BUMP to SPEED HUMP will slow drivers down.

I have come to think of Fibromyalgia as my speed hump. It slows me down, causes me to take divergent paths, and even knocks me out of alignment at times. The difference is that no one put up a sign to warn me that this was coming. If I would have known ahead of time, could I have taken precautions, slowed down, or been prepared? I doubt it.

How does one prepare for something that is invisible, something that has varying symptoms that can change location and severity as quickly as the wind changes directions? Fibromyalgia affects 3% of the general population. It is estimated that over 200 million people (85% of which are women) world-wide suffer symptoms of fibromyalgia. Roughly, one-fourth of the sufferers are work-disabled due to the varying symptoms of pain, fatigue, memory/concentration issues, sleep disorders, exercise difficulties, and associated issues of IBS, TMJ, chronic headaches, non-cardiac chest pains, etc. Fibromyalgia often co-occurs with other conditions, such as rheumatoid arthritis, systemic lupus erythematosus, and ankylosing spondylitis, yet it is invisible.

What may seem like a speed bump to one fibromite, is a debilitating symptom to another. Currently there is no “magic pill” for fibromyalgia, and the treatments aim at simply managing the symptoms. The treatments are as varied as the symptoms. What works for one sufferer, may not work for another. I am thankful that I am able to work and enjoy a mostly normal life with my fibromyalgia. Many of my fibromite friends are not so fortunate.

I feel the need to erect signs along the side of the road to make folks aware of fibromyalgia and aware of my fellow fibromites. Awareness is the first step towards more research money, more compassion for sufferers, and hopefully better treatments to help manage this invisible illness.

Now that I think about it. Maybe the SPEED HUMP sign would work if the hump/bump in the road was more like fibromyalgia. If the bump/hump was invisible and changed locations and dimensions hourly, maybe drivers would be on the lookout for the warning sign telling them that the SPEED HUMP was up ahead.

Dang, not another fibro flare!

Fibromites are a lot like Humpty Dumpty. When we “fall”, it is difficult to put us back together again. An injury tends to spiral out of control into a fibro flare. About two years ago I suddenly turned into a klutz, or so it seemed.

My fifty pound pittador retriever (one of my rescue dogs) was racing through the house towards the back door with an antler in his mouth, eager to run outside to play, when he clipped the back of my legs. My legs flew out from under me, and I landed on the floor with my back straddling two steps.

The dog went outside to play without me without even realizing I had been sidelined. Since that moment, my left elbow and shoulder have hurt daily. My knees and back have never been the same. Two and a half years later, I am in physical therapy trying to strengthen my knees.

I believe that this fall may have somehow triggered my fibromyalgia. Yep, fibromites are like Humpty-Dumpty. GPs, PTs, chiropractors, orthopedists, rheumatologists, and all the king’s horses have all tried, to no avail, to put me back together again.

Of course it doesn’t help matters when I continue to injure myself. Ten and a half months ago, I slipped on icy steps during one of Atlanta’s rare winter storms and landed on an ice-covered cement path. I was knocked unconscious for what I believe was only a split second and suffered a concussion.

With this fall, one of my pittador retrievers came to my rescue. She pushed her head under my body and managed to shove me towards the steps. I wrapped my arms around her warm fur, and I let her drag me into the house. I call her my rescue dog now (instead of my rescued dog).

So, am I a klutz or do fibromites push their tired, aching bodies to the point where it is difficult to recover from one tiny misstep? Are fibromites too weak to support the activities we push ourselves through?

Just last night, I fell again. I went to work, went to physical therapy, went to my son’s school and stood on cement for one hour happily viewing the night sky through a telescope … my legs were exhausted. I came home, and I fell directly on my sore knees. This morning when I attempted to crawl out of bed, I realized my hands, shoulders, back, and ankles were also sore from the fall.

Dang, not another fibro flare! Will they ever put Humpty-Dumpty back together again?