Just last week, I bravely (and falsely) announced that I don't have the fibro-thing anymore. In spite of eating lasagne and bread and a piece of cake, I hadn't had one of those days of all-over pain in a long time.
But yesterday, it returned with a vengeance--all the lasagne and bread of the previous two weeks adding up to pain plus fatigue plus irritability. The good thing is that the body gives its own signals for each particular body, but the not so fun thing is listening and doing better, eschewing yummy for easy walking.
The walk through the Botanical Gardens was painful enough to get my attention. Then, when the Kosper door to door campaigner wanted to chat while I was already chatting with Edward about paint, Elena wanting to sew a monkey dress, and the yard man showing up simultaneously, I assured her I'd vote for Kosper but couldn't talk right then. It felt rude, but in the particular mathematics of that kind of day, the number of people I could talk to had shrunk to nil, and I wanted to preserve whatever patience and normalcy I could for Elena who had gotten into my lipstick and needed a quick repair.
Anyway, it's less intense today and I'm back on the wagon. To aid in the re-set, I got a Chinese massage this afternoon from a man whose English name is Paul. He has strong hands and good techniques and I left feeling invigorated. Of all the therapists I've visited there, Paul is hands down the best.
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