I am in a royal amount of pain. All the time.

My pain is getting worse. It’s pretty much to the point where I can give it a name and pretend that it’s a person. Actually, lets do that.

I shall name my pain: Lamp.

Lamp is a great name because it doesn’t make sense and neither does the amount of pain that I’m in. Thank you, fibromyalgia!

The other day, it took me 35 minutes to be able to shift out of bed because I couldn’t actually get out of bed without immense pain. This is actually becoming a regular thing. I can’t do dishes without being in pain, I can’t walk without being in pain, I can’t even get off the toilet without being in pain. How crappy is that. (Ha! Pun!)

A lot of people tell me that if I wouldn’t have told them about Lamp, then they never would have known. I keep on saying with a smile, “There’s no point in being a grump about it. It doesn’t help anybody.”

After all of this, I went back to my doctor to explain this. I suggested going on disability; I don’t want to, but it’s seriously come to this.

So I asked about disability and my doctor told me that she doesn’t want me to apply for it because she sees it as a dead end for me. The treatment for Lamp is exercise and taking care of myself. She also wants me to continue working to help with my depression.

What she doesn’t understand is that I can’t exercise after a day of work. I go home and nap and relax my aching everything otherwise I can’t move the next day…at all.

I told Oliver this and he said, “Get another opinion.”

I definitely agree.

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