Too much pain, and my Amazing Arthritis Slaying Team
Teaching five water exercise classes in four days is apparently a bit much for my body, especially when three of them is in the shallow water, which is more difficult for me than deep water. Being submerged up to my neck makes it much less difficult for me to injure myself or make myself sore all over. Oh, I can do it. I have done it, it is just more difficult. My skeletal system, most notably my feet, hands, and spine respond pretty quickly and aggressively to even the slightest change by turning up the pain and stiffness levels.
Yesterday after working about four hours in the back yard, broken up by frequent dips in the pool to relax my back and cool off, I dragged myself through a high energy workout from 7-8am. I then hobbled to the parking lot, drove to Sprouts, used the electric cart to get my shopping done, came home, put away my groceries and then spent the rest of the day in the recliner or in bed. I anticipated spending most of the day in bed. What shocked and annoyed me is that I didn't bounce back after nearly 8 hours of rest. I finally slipped into a coma about 10pm last night with a huge to-do list hanging over my head. I wasn't good company yesterday evening. Lucky for me and Patrick that we had two Daily Show episodes in the buffer. I needed those episodes more than I needed the Vicodin and the Clinoril last night, and trust me, I needed the drugs pretty bad.
Yesterday was a four Vicodin day. The day before I only needed two. a little balance would be nice. Sigh.
Of course, it is partly my own fault for pushing myself as hard as I do, but honestly, when your disease fluctuates as much as mine does it is damn difficult not to over or under-do it on any given day. Because the pain and stiffness are not immediate. It takes a couple of hours and by then even if I stop abruptly what I am doing and rest, it is just sometimes too damn late. Add that to eighteen years of having to make the most of every instant of functionality because I never knew when the next window would be, it is easy to understand why I sometimes do too much and end up curled in a fetal position waiting for a pain pill to kick in. That happens many days when I don't push it. Yeah, totally frustrating and really unfair.
In my opinion, it is always better to have something to show for all that pain. I am usually smart enough to avoid activities that would cause anything more than a twenty-four to forty-eight hour spike in pain levels. Sometimes Mr Barometer adds to the fun, and so does a doctor who doesn't listen to me when I translate what my body is saying or bother to check my lab results. However, since I have have replaced Doctor Dumbass, I am now in the care of a new Rheumy who really knows his stuff. His nurse practitioner is smart, articulate and kind, my own GP is still a sweetheart and amazing, and I am no slouch myself, so finally, I have managed to assemble a team that can kick this disease into the ground and beat it senseless every now and then. I think of this group of individuals, which also includes my wonderful husband, my dad, better known as Doctor George, and my two closest friends Dawn and Frances, and I always think of the hero group shot at the very end of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer opening title sequence. If Psoriatic Arthritis didn't come from the Hellmouth, it should have, and it really needs to go back. Preferably in little tiny hacked up pieces. Extreme force is always indicated. That being said, PA is easier on the infrastructure of my home than Vampires, Demons and rampaging Werewolves. For that I am totally and eternally grateful. I don't have a general contractor on my hero team, although Frances and Dawn's husband Jeff sometimes pinch hit.
It is damn tricky, let me tell you. Under-estimating what my body can tolerate too often and I end up in a recliner all day watching HGTV and Food Network shows with not enough energy to drag my ass to the grocery store or even the kitchen to prepare anything more ambitious than a frozen pizza. Over-estimating what my body can do puts me where I was yesterday, with a huge list of things to do and without the ability to carry a load of laundry to the laundry room or even take my dinner tray back to the kitchen. It seems to me that I live two vastly different lives. One is reasonably functional with manageable pain and stiffness in the 0-6 out of ten range, and the other is level 8-12 level pain, stiffness that would make the tin man from the Wizard of Oz wet his tin panties, and the function of a 98 year old woman who has been in assisted living for ten years.
So today I am going to prioritize my to-do list, skip water aerobics because I'm not teaching, and take it as easy as I can, cause I don't want to be too tired to enjoy my own damn party on Saturday. Besides, my guests are science fiction fans. My standards of cleanliness probably creep them out a bit anyway. *snicker*
Yesterday after working about four hours in the back yard, broken up by frequent dips in the pool to relax my back and cool off, I dragged myself through a high energy workout from 7-8am. I then hobbled to the parking lot, drove to Sprouts, used the electric cart to get my shopping done, came home, put away my groceries and then spent the rest of the day in the recliner or in bed. I anticipated spending most of the day in bed. What shocked and annoyed me is that I didn't bounce back after nearly 8 hours of rest. I finally slipped into a coma about 10pm last night with a huge to-do list hanging over my head. I wasn't good company yesterday evening. Lucky for me and Patrick that we had two Daily Show episodes in the buffer. I needed those episodes more than I needed the Vicodin and the Clinoril last night, and trust me, I needed the drugs pretty bad.
Yesterday was a four Vicodin day. The day before I only needed two. a little balance would be nice. Sigh.
Of course, it is partly my own fault for pushing myself as hard as I do, but honestly, when your disease fluctuates as much as mine does it is damn difficult not to over or under-do it on any given day. Because the pain and stiffness are not immediate. It takes a couple of hours and by then even if I stop abruptly what I am doing and rest, it is just sometimes too damn late. Add that to eighteen years of having to make the most of every instant of functionality because I never knew when the next window would be, it is easy to understand why I sometimes do too much and end up curled in a fetal position waiting for a pain pill to kick in. That happens many days when I don't push it. Yeah, totally frustrating and really unfair.
In my opinion, it is always better to have something to show for all that pain. I am usually smart enough to avoid activities that would cause anything more than a twenty-four to forty-eight hour spike in pain levels. Sometimes Mr Barometer adds to the fun, and so does a doctor who doesn't listen to me when I translate what my body is saying or bother to check my lab results. However, since I have have replaced Doctor Dumbass, I am now in the care of a new Rheumy who really knows his stuff. His nurse practitioner is smart, articulate and kind, my own GP is still a sweetheart and amazing, and I am no slouch myself, so finally, I have managed to assemble a team that can kick this disease into the ground and beat it senseless every now and then. I think of this group of individuals, which also includes my wonderful husband, my dad, better known as Doctor George, and my two closest friends Dawn and Frances, and I always think of the hero group shot at the very end of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer opening title sequence. If Psoriatic Arthritis didn't come from the Hellmouth, it should have, and it really needs to go back. Preferably in little tiny hacked up pieces. Extreme force is always indicated. That being said, PA is easier on the infrastructure of my home than Vampires, Demons and rampaging Werewolves. For that I am totally and eternally grateful. I don't have a general contractor on my hero team, although Frances and Dawn's husband Jeff sometimes pinch hit.
It is damn tricky, let me tell you. Under-estimating what my body can tolerate too often and I end up in a recliner all day watching HGTV and Food Network shows with not enough energy to drag my ass to the grocery store or even the kitchen to prepare anything more ambitious than a frozen pizza. Over-estimating what my body can do puts me where I was yesterday, with a huge list of things to do and without the ability to carry a load of laundry to the laundry room or even take my dinner tray back to the kitchen. It seems to me that I live two vastly different lives. One is reasonably functional with manageable pain and stiffness in the 0-6 out of ten range, and the other is level 8-12 level pain, stiffness that would make the tin man from the Wizard of Oz wet his tin panties, and the function of a 98 year old woman who has been in assisted living for ten years.
So today I am going to prioritize my to-do list, skip water aerobics because I'm not teaching, and take it as easy as I can, cause I don't want to be too tired to enjoy my own damn party on Saturday. Besides, my guests are science fiction fans. My standards of cleanliness probably creep them out a bit anyway. *snicker*