Last night my son, who is nearly 11, was sick. I mean, fever knocking on 102, sore throat, runny nose, just the works man. Now as we all know, Fibromyalgia gives no fcuks at all about our lives. That bastard couldn't care less that my boy was sick and that I was in serious pain already. For those who are just joining or catching up with my blog, I've been in a flare almost a year. I know its abnormal however, because I worked thru so many months not knowing I HAD Fibro, my body shut down. This heifer is still on haitus somewhere in the Carribbean. I wish she'd bring her ass back because I'm tired of being disabled. Anyway, I digress...back to last night; its amazing how when we are faced with a challenge we either fight or flight.
I was up every two hours checking his forehead, giving him water, meds, the whole nine yards. Again, I am already exhausted & in pain but my child needs me. What else can I do? Adreneline kicked in as I stayed next to him from 5am to 8am. Nearly delirious, I finally asked him would he be ok if I took a nap. He allowed me to go and I slept HARD. I still haven't caught on my sleep, and every muscle in my body including my toes hurt. My calves & feel feel like I spent the day walking through Disney world in beauty supply store flip flops. I can barely keep my eyes open.
My point is this; people wonder how disabled & chronically ill people do what they do daily. What they don't know is that we've been given upgraded grace & mercy to handle every situation. My body is paying for the "push" I gave it this weekend. Its cool. My job was done; Alex is feeling better, my mom is helping me this week & all is well. Don't count us out. We know we can't do much physically, emotionally or verbally, but we can and will at least TRY.