Brick Walls

Brick walls can be lovely depending on the masoner and the architect. For people with fibro, brick walls are just something we throw ourselves against when we want to do something fun. I tried to define/describe fibro flu a few days ago, but this is different.  The brick wall (at least my brick wall) is really the draining of every drop of energy from my body.  There is so little energy left that the pain – still present – is muted, indistinct. There aren’t sharp pains. Imagine lying between two heavy mattresses, the weight holding you in one place, pressing the breath out of your lungs, legs and arms immobilized. If you’re able to get up and walk around, after a few steps you’re out of breath, maybe with heart palpitations.  I suspect atrial fibrillation – I have paroxysmal AF which brings on shortness of breath and fatigue all by itself.

Last week I had my swim lesson on Tuesday.  Usually I would have taken a day off and swam again on Thursday.  Instead I went swimming on Wednesday – two nights in a row.  I had difficulty swimming across the pool on Wednesday night.  Thursday morning, I woke up confused about what day it was, what time it was, if I was late for work. I stumbled to work.  On Thursday night, I came home from work, went out to dinner, came home and washed dishes (no dishwasher – I need to talk with Santa).  Three nights of activity was enough to slam me against the wall.  Thursday night I crawled into my bedroom, laid down on my side and couldn’t move. I couldn’t clench a fist or stretch my foot.  I slept in the same position all night, got up the next day and went to work in a fog. I was dancing on the brick wall that whole day.

A good night’s sleep usually picks me up and puts me back on my feet. The brick wall is simply fatigue. Fatigue on steroids.

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