Change in life

I have an article on my refrigerator entitled 5 Ways Having Fibromyalgia Makes You Awesome that I read every few days to remind myself of my "superhero-ness".  (I have a migraine right now that feels like it could literally light me on fire if the wind blew the right way, so my communication ability may be limited.)

I'm waiting on call backs from 2 doctors today that I HAVE  to get because, tomorrow is the last day I have insurance.  My medicare probably won't kick in until April 1 according to the nice Social Security lady.  I could have dealt with this anytime last 2 weeks since Tim's layoff but, the migraines abated.  The weather was lousy for so many days in a row.  No sunshine.  And, headaches were both less frequent and less severe.  Yesterday, finally we got a sunshiny gorgeous day and WHAM.  I feel like I laid my head down and let a semi run it over a couple times.  Yeah.  That bad.

So, anyway, I now don't have any meds to rescue me from one nor can I go to sleep with this kind of pain, because I took the last of that drug yesterday, so here I am.

The little article linked says that I adapt well to change, its #4.  To that I say, what is the option?  The way that some fibro pain works for some of us is like this.  It travels. It feels like it is in my bloodstream and just every now and then, there's an explosion.  It can go from my elbow, to my knee, to my eyeball, to my toe and then my tooth inside of 2 minutes.   I swear this is not exaggeration.  And rarely is the last location done before the next starts, that is if I'm granted only one- at- a- timers.  I won't even go in to multiple site incidents.  Just imagine for a moment that someone stabbed you directly in your eyeball, say about 5 times.  And now add to that invisible person #2 who, on the 5th eyeball stab from the first guy, began stabbing your toe 8 times.  Either one of those would floor any of us, on our best days.  Our brains become overloaded with the shock of the pain of it.  Well, that's why I don't talk so good sometimes.  It's why I don't drive.  It's why I don't work and I can't be relied upon to make decisions.  This kind of thing is an entirely spontaneous occurrence in my body.

Human beings love stability, security.  We seek it from the time we are young.  We find what feels good and comfortable and familiar, and we want to STAY there.  We resist changing.  It's why habits are so hard to break.  It's why loss of loved ones is so catastrophic and why divorces or job losses are major life events that can set folks on a tragic spiral downward.  Change sucks, we're taught.  But, I have had to re-learn lessons about change.  I have had to give it a second chance and let it prove to me that it doesn't suck.  I am in a situation where I must hold it's hand, if you will.  (Saying I'm stuck with it is so negative.)  I do not know from moment to moment, quite literally, if some invisible, unexplainable, stabby, ice-pick pain will pierce my body, or which part of my body, or for how long.  I just know that it is likely.  I also know that I have survived it every time so far.  It isn't fun.  Sometimes it makes me scream out loud, which can be embarrassing if I'm in public.  That kind of uncertainty is a ginormous bag to carry around.  I have been blessed that I am finally able to be brave enough to let Christ carry mine.  Now, I just live with the fact that I have no idea what lies ahead in the next 5 minutes, the next hour, the next week, but I do know that how I feel will likely vary greatly and possibly to an extreme which feels unthinkable.  Also, I know that whatever else changes in my world, even if my flesh should perish, (and my brains begin to seep out my ears which feels like it could happen at any second)  the one and only thing which will never change is His love for me and His promise to never abandon me.  It is simply that which keeps me riding the waves of all the other changes.  So, the article gives me kudos for adapting well to it.  But, to it I say, how can I not?

As my spouse searches for a new job for the first time in 18 or 19 years, as I navigate changing from private health insurance to Medicare, as we roll through daily life and I hide from the sunshine, which I seem to be allergic to, I give thanks that we are together.  I give thanks that I keep surviving, and that if only one person benefits from these words, I feel I haven't wasted my time.  I give thanks that I know it is not my job to understand.  It is His.