Flare up Diary # 8

 On Saturday I went out to hang with friends and enjoy life. Afterwards, I caught up with family at a bbq. Granted I was active that day. About 2 hours into the bbq, I start to feel nauseous and my daily pain level of 2 has moved to a 3.

By the time I got home, I wasn’t feeling great but not horrible. I couldn’t sleep and was up till about 2-3am trying to quiet my mind down.

At some point I fell asleep. Around 6am I was woken out of a dead sleep to an excruciating pain in my left side. I immediately knew it was a bad flare up and proceeded to try and get my zap machine and medication to help. All of which, was down the hall in the living room and kitchen.

Feel free to laugh at this next part.

As I hobbled my way down the hall, using the walls for support. I was half asleep and dizzy. Not really paying attention. Suddenly, my left foot slips out from under me as I stepped in something slimy and gross. It took me less than 5 seconds to realize I had just stepped barefoot in dog diarrhea. My poor husband was woken up to my crying and screaming for help because I could barely stand and didn’t want the poo spread everywhere from my foot. Bless his heart, he immediately cleaned up the mess and helped me get to the couch. 

For the next two hours, I seized so severely I made my back and shoulders crack and pop. My pain level was rolling waves jumping from 4-8. I couldn’t stop crying and honestly wanted to die. I couldn’t think straight, my head was pounding and I was fighting the urge to puke. I felt like someone was inside me trying to claw there way out of a house fire that was happening inside me I didn’t know about. My legs felt like I was walking on something sharp and sent shooting pains up to my back. I felt like my back was thrown out and my anxiety started to escalate. I dropped twice, trying to get medication or trying to get to the bathroom. The pain was too much and I couldn’t move. I laid on the floor like a pathetic lump sobbing in pain. My husband was doing his best to help, but was upset and felt helpless. Thank goodness the windows were closed or my neighbours would of called the cops because of the amount of screaming in pain I was doing. It was between 6am-9am when this all went down. I debated going to the hospital but knew ultimately it would take hours before I would be seen and they most likely would hand me Tylenol and send me home. I opted to stay home. 

I don’t know if medication or exhaustion won, I could barely carry myself to my bedroom, but I made it. I slept for 3 hours solid. My husband woke me up to check on me. I was still dead and unable to lift myself out of the bed. He left to pick up my vehicle from where we left in the night before. I also told him to visit a friend or something so his entire weekend wasn’t ruined. 

While he was gone, I went through another round of an exorcism flare up. This one lasted maybe just over half an hour. But was just as painful as the first round I did that morning. I curled up in a ball in the bed and just sobbed. Unable to move and feeling as if someone was torturing me without mercy. When it finally ended, I could barely lift my arms. I was so dizzy, I couldn’t sit up in my bed, let alone try and stand. I was done. I didn’t care anymore. I wanted to just give up and die. 

When my husband returned, he spent time with me. Just comforting me and reminding me I’m not alone and that we were in this together. He didn’t sign up for this. This wasn’t the life he was suppose to have. I feel like I ruin his life constantly. But I wouldn’t survive without him. I wouldn’t be here without him. I would of stopped fighting a long time ago, if I didn’t have him supporting me. I am forever grateful for his unconditional love and support.