I’m starting to wonder if it’s time to start using a cane. Or maybe a crutch.
Let me start from the beginning.
This weekend was originally going to be relaxing. Get a few things done around the house, maybe a quick shopping trip to look at some new work clothes (which I need desperately). Then I found out that the kiddo had called her grandma and wanted her grandma to take her and a friend to a local science museum, lovingly called “the Little Zoo” when she was younger. Kiddo had found out that her friend had never been, which she found astonishing since it was such a big part of her childhood.
I was miffed at first, for several reasons. For one thing, I had already made tentative plans with the grandma in question (my mother) to do the aforementioned shopping, and to also go over to her house to re-dye my hair, as the roots are coming in and I am starting to look a bit skunk-like. Also, I was a bit upset that plans were being made and changed all around me, and no one had bothered to tell me. At all. When I mentioned this to my mother, her answer was, “She would have asked you to take her, but you always say no.”
Okay. A few things.
First off, the kiddo hardly ever talks to me of her own accord unless she needs me to buy something for her. This is because I am always the bad guy. The one who gets on her case about school work, who bugs her about having dishes in her room. And yes, I probably would have said no about taking her to the Little Zoo, but I had a good reason. My chronic pain issue (that is probably fibromyalgia, although it was never officially diagnosed and won’t be now that I can’t go to the doctor) had been bothering me for most of the week. That’s why I was hoping for a relaxing weekend, where I could limp around in peace and quiet and hopefully be better before the next week started. And I would have been fine if she wanted to go, I said that I couldn’t, and then she went to her grandma, but that’s never the way it happens. I’m not sure how she thinks that I will always say no when I’m never even asked.
And yes, my mother is probably reading this right now. She knows how I feel.
I ended up going with the kiddo, her friend, and my mom to the Little Zoo, mostly out of guilt. It was a beautiful day, the first sunny day we’ve had in a long time, so it would have been a great trip if it hadn’t been for the pain. I was already limping when we got there, but walking a couple of miles on top of that certainly didn’t help. My flare ups are usually centered around my hips and lower back, but I’ve been having issues with my knees and my right foot recently as well. Basically, I feel like a very old woman stuck in a 40 year old body. That is part of what makes this so frustrating. I’m only 40. I shouldn’t be having issues like this yet.
I also hate all the doctors and studies that say that exercise is supposed to help this. Okay. I got exercise. I feel 100% worse and still hurt two days later. And now I am at my super professional job trying to pretend that I feel great, because nothing less is tolerated, when all I want to do is lay down and cry.
It’s tiring, it’s frustrating, and I hate it.
So the cane thing. Sometimes, because of the pain in different parts of the body (it’s not always consistent where it wants to give me grief), I am sometimes not only having a hard time walking, but having a hard time keeping my balance on top of that. I do wonder if people would think I was being silly if I got one, or if I was being ostentatious or overly dramatic. I know I shouldn’t worry about that, but I do, especially at work.
I did have fun though, even if I will be paying for it for several more days. Here’s a picture of a meerkat. Because the Little Zoo has meerkats and they are adorable.