FIbroMYalGiAA Poem by Annette Jay SweeneyI'm sick. I hide this from everyone, including myself. This is a rant about just one of the symptoms of my disorder.The moment the word is out of my mouth FIbroMYalGiA my chest clenches in annoyance. I know before the reply that they will ask what the f**k (well, maybe in nicer terms) that is. How to begin to describe the life changing experience I have gone through? What I feel is beyond normal comprehension… so what can I say to make you see? Sometimes it’s barely anything, a dull throbbing in my bones and muscles. The pain is a normal person’s severe back ache… and that is on easy days. On the hard days my back is a complex net of ties, bumps, and pinched nerves. They fire off to try to relax every so often, but the feeling is as if I had a seizure when awake. I feel it all. The twang of my tissue… God, I can almost hear it in my waking mind. I sense the twisting and tightening of the ropes that hold me in the disorder’s grips. It is a slow process, but sometimes it flares, like a volcano spewing forth. Some volcanos are minor, or minor to me. For me, that is a Mount St. Helens day. It is damaging, discouraging, and downright dreadful, but I survive without too much scarring. Then there are the supervolcano days… it’s like living the entire lifetime of the Yellowstone hot spot. Small geysers burst forth, hot mud and water pits, but then comes the day where I am bedridden as the caldera explodes and I lurch. My body twists as if someone is sticking a pin in one of those voodoo dolls. I can’t even speak. My entire left side drops as many of the main muscles (I could never count them) blow, a huge spot on my back, all at once. The repercussions send me to the ground, and their effects ricochet throughout my body. It’s a cataclysmic disaster, the king that would change the climate of Earth for thousands of years, and this lasts me a few days. I stop to think about this before I try to answer the question, and tell the same bullshit answer, “It’s some kind of muscle disorder… my back tightens up and I have muscle spasms. It’s more complicated then that…” and I drop off, because not only do they not want to know more than the pain, they don’t need to, and honestly… I don’t like to think about it. Who wants to acknowledge something that has no known cause, no known cure, and requires me to be as careful as a sixty year old woman with everything I do? Hell, make that eighty. © 2010 Annette Jay SweeneyAuthor's Note
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4 Reviews Added on April 26, 2010 Last Updated on April 26, 2010 AuthorAnnette Jay SweeneyIDAboutReading and writing have always provided a loving escape for me, but both are now taking on a more serious level. I thrive on reading others' work and helping them to improve, while also depicting my .. more..Writing
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