As old as my Ma

I reached for the glass of sparkling wine beckoning me not too far away.

But before my fingers could wrap around the tall glass stem, I grimaced from a shocking pain in my hand. A pain that caused me to pull back from my glass of sparkles.

Damn you fibromyalgia. Damn you!

Sometimes these moments surprise me because I forget that anything is possible with this monster we live with. My hand was alright just five minutes ago. Ok, I mean, my fingers were swollen but that doesn’t count.

Times like these my Ma would joke “Oh gosh what you leave for me chile” referring to her own suffering from rheumatoid arthritis. She laughs but I know she empathises. Other times she would say “Lord, and you just start to live. But me, I already old, I had a long easy life.”

Bless her.

I might be 29, but I feel as old as my Ma in this body with fibromyalgia.

Excuse me, gotta go look for my bottle of Wood Lock oil.

Gentle hugs:)