Mikki - posted on 03/22/2010 ( 4 moms have responded )
Hello guys. I'm a mother of two and a 27 year old divorcee. I was diagnosed with FMS after my daughter, now 7, was born in 2003. After that, things just kept going wrong. My body betrayed me at an alarming rate. As a child, I was never sick but wanted to be so that I could stay home from school. Now, I can't remember when I didn't feel pain last. My Dad is pushing me to apply for at least partial disability. I'm being very stubborn about it for the simple fact that I feel I'm too young. I know that there are so many things wrong with my body, but I keep fighting against them.
I watched a show last night that got under my skin unlike anything had before. The episode of "Undercover Boss" showed a woman working in a factory. I didn't mind this and I thought, "I could so easily do that!" I was inspired and for a split second, I was going to add that type of work to my job seeking repertoire. Then it hit me. I remembered when I'd worked that hard last. I remembered how much I'd hurt that night and the days after. Not day, but days. It struck me that, if I get a job like that, the issue wouldn't be physical strength. The issue would be pain tolerance. I would be able to get the job done. But at the end of the day, the pain would start to hit me. The next day, it would hit me fully and I'd be biting it back with everything I had... just trying to get up and go to work.
After maybe a week of that, I may not be able to even move anymore. My mother, God rest her, suffered with this kind of mind-numbing pain until she died. This pain controls every aspect of my life. They've had to put me on Dilaudid because of it... just so that I can get basic housework done. When looking for a job, even waitressing is beginning to look like a bit more than I think my body could handle. It's not that it's too much of a physical strain... but, isn't it? People would think, "She's lazy. She's only 27!" But try telling them that I have fibromyalgia, a back that's eating itself slowly, arthritis throughout my body... and let's see if they can look at me without calling me that lovely word that we've all heard: hypochondriac. But it's all written in my medical file. It's official. I didn't go looking for these things. They found me... and they're killing me... taking me over... no matter how much I fight them, they're here... and I'm 27. How do I deal with this?