Flare up
Talk about getting the life sucked out of me! And the long-awaited, grand finale, official last symptom of my flare up is waking up and feeling I’ve had a bulldozer go over me… a few times… at least! My muscles ache all over, I could almost fool myself and pretend I’ve run a marathon, but in reality I’ve been in the dark cave of pain for days, sleeping and resting… and sleeping and resting. Oh yes but getting up long enough to cancel any commitments, or in the final day, getting up and attempting a coffee outing, only to realise that nope, flare up wants a bit more of your life.
I have nothing nice to say about a flare up. It’s nothing but my injury’s hissy fit and a brutal check point that tells me I’m not my old self yet. But since I like to keep a positive outlook and focus on the good things, I will say that coming out of a flare up feels incredible. I feel I could fly, my brain gears up again: ‘Of course I’m going to beat this’, ‘yes, I’ll be me again one day’, ‘I’ll get back to work for sure’, ‘I’m going to start a painting tomorrow’, ‘I’m going to sit on a hard bench tomorrow’, ‘movies – bring ‘em on!’ and, ‘darling, let me drive today’...
