When you are first diagnosed, or when the symptoms don’t add up to the “nothing wrong” that you hear from the specialists, some of us check the Internet daily to see if there has been a cure. Even when we don’t know what the disease is that needs a cure. All I know is that I am in pain; that things don’t add up – that what was once true with me and my body is now a fast fading memory of health. I am beyond that now. Sometimes I look twice a day.
You quickly learn to be wary of the words “cure,” or “miracle” since we know that what works for one person with FMS, will not necessarily work for another. And, there are plenty of people who sit in judgement. I know: I used to be one. They will tell you to just get out of bed, or change your diet, or take this supplement, shun the prescriptions, meditate, jog, roll your neck while you read or just anything, anything that shows they are not a member of this club, (nor should they want to be).
One day, not too long ago, in an attempt to tell my story, I wrote these words:
In addition to these things, either by nature or nurture – nobody knows – I have also been diagnosed with fibromyalgia, which, I am assured, “is real”. I dare you to live in my body and tell me it’s not real. Or even, “I know it feels real to you,” as if I could have avoided this affliction had I been a better, less conflicted, human being: A stressful human being, to boot, tying my muscles in knots just by waking up. I am the person who sees the doctor too often.
I like the wording of “had I been a better, less conflicted, human being.” I have to believe that each of us wonders what might have been if not for the mistakes of our lives. There are people who will tell you that these mistakes will make you stronger, and better. Sometimes, yes. Sometimes, no.
