Category Archives: FM/CFS

Bah

It’s definitely gastro. Day four of no fun. I’m back on a liquid diet, as the pasta I tried last night made my system very unhappy. Apple juice and tea, hurrah. Beef broth for lunch.

I had to frog two inches of Mum’s scarf last night because I lost a stitch somewhere, and I couldn’t tink back clearly (stupid splitty thick and thin silk, who spun this yarn? … oh right, I did) so out came the circular needle and two inches of work were ripped out, because of course I hadn’t moved my lifeline recently. Grr.

And then I picked up the boy’s scarf to work on, because I needed HRH to hold Mum’s scarf by the lifeline so I could pick up the stitches and he wasn’t home yet, and knitted another two rounds on that before I realised that the resulting scarf was going to be (a) to heavy, and (b) too stiff to wrap around his neck. So I yanked that off the needle and frogged all seven inches of it back, too, and cast on for a single-thickness scarf instead. Which means that I’ll have to purl, and I haven’t purled in so long that I don’t remember how.

I didn’t sleep very well last night at all, so I think I’m taking today off as a sick day. I’m run down and achy and miserable, and on top of the gastro the fibro is acting up. I foresee a long, slow January fibro-wise, and a lot of being at home conserving what little energy I have.

Sigh

Great all-day co-coven workshop yesterday, despite three people missing due to illness, work schedules, or unavoidable extracurricular responsibilities. Today? Hello, full-blown cold and fibro flare-up. I can’t even lie down without the body hurting, but I don’t have the energy to do much while upright. HRH took the boy to monthly playgroup, thank goodness, although he really didn’t want to. I know he’ll enjoy himself once he gets there.

This afternoon is the group cello class, and then tonight is the monthly steampunquian RPG. I know everyone will understand tonight if I just kind of sit there and listen. The cello class is what’s going to be the challenge, but I also know that once I’m there and in the middle of it adrenaline will carry me. It will take a day or two to recover from the weekend, though.

My LYS e-mailed me yesterday to tell me that the winter issue of Spin-Off had arrived, even though I hadn’t asked them to put one aside for me. I love them. When I was last in to place that big order for fibre and a bobbin, MA said that I could come in and use the store’s drum carder any time I wanted to mess about with it. I suspect she’s figured out that I am easily sucked in by new toys if casually left alone with them and allowed to talk myself into acquiring them. (I have neither the space or the money for a drum carder, or the need for it right now. Nobody worry.)

I officially finished the first skein of yarn on my goddaughter’s wrap yesterday, and wound the second into a centre-pull ball and joined it to the WIP. I’ll knit up what I’ve got then wash and block it to see how big it is, but I suspect that due to the weight of the yarn it won’t open up as much as I want it to. Which means, of course, that I will have to acquire and spin up another two ounces. Despite having swatched with the yarn and the needle size I’m using, I think I should have gone up a needle size to account for the alarming amount of blooming the yarn is doing while being knit. Six (or what might possibly become eight) ounces for a shoulder capelet/wrap/hood really seems like too much. I should have spun it finer, or perhaps the test yarn I made was plied more tightly. Handspun yarn blooms sneakily as you knit, even after you’ve set the twist and thwacked it. Oh well; lesson learned. It’s a learning curve, right?

I need more Tylenol.

Backdated Posts

Finally written and posted:

The weekend roundup.

The boy’s fifty-three months old post.

And now I have crossed everything off today’s to-do list except laundry. The bread’s on its second rise, and I have some cello to work on. Last night’s rehearsal was amazing but incredibly draining; with the fibro being the worst it’s been in two years, I’m moderately concerned about keeling over halfway through the second part of the concert on Saturday night, and no, I am not kidding. I think what will save me is that fact that the Beethoven is at the end on the actual concert night.

Cast on Devon’s wrap yesterday, and got two of the sixteen repeats done. I have to keep reminding myself that blocking opens up the lace. Because the yarn is thicker but I didn’t change needle size, it’s not open lace like the original. We’ll see what happens.

Dull

First, a pretty picture: I’m currently spinning some Louet Northern Lights in the Cactus Flower colourway. It’s my first foray into spinning dyed fibre, and it’s fascinating me. I probably wouldn’t have chosen this to spin, but it was a test done with fibre on hand, and it turns out it works rather well for a project I had in mind. More on that later, though. Show and tell first!

Okay. Now for the less than cheerful stuff.

I seem to be at a pretty bad fibro low. The cold/flu thing that tag-teamed me through September really kicked me hard, and getting back on my feet is a very long drawn-out process that’s not much fun at all. It’s also that time of year where I’m restless, but don’t want to leave my office. I want to be out being distracted by things, but I don’t have the energy to either do it physically or mentally, since dealing with People At Large requires a heck of a lot of energy. And as I no longer have the car, going out via public requires more time and physical energy as well.

So I’m spending a lot of time flipping dully through stuff on the internet hoping for inspiration, researching spinning and testing stuff out because it relaxes me and doesn’t draw a whole bunch of energy from me, and getting frustrated because I can’t work. Work is… draining. It’s at the point where I’m not being fulfilled by it, and it’s just a paycheque. Which is not a bad thing, because I never set out on this particular freelance gig seeking fulfillment; it was always intended to be just a paycheque, because money is good. It’s just really hard to open these documents and run a review on them, because most of the time they’re poorly written and poorly laid out, and that’s really depressing. I have to muster up a huge amount of energy to deal with them, and that’s draining on a whole other level. What would probably fulfill me more is actually writing, except that whole finite amount of energy and currently low levels means I need to direct the energy towards paying/deadlined work first. I feel exhausted just thinking about writing my own stuff, and not terribly inspired. What I need to do is rethink how I handle these assignments. Maybe read through them entirely before starting to pull out the broken elements for the report, then handle the report at the end rather than starting with it at the beginning of the read-through, because it slows things down.

Cello is feeling kind of sloggy at the moment too, because I’m trying to internalize a whole lot of stuff that’s coming up in lessons, mostly about technique, and as a result a bunch of other stuff is breaking down. This is not unusual; very often we have to unlearn things, or take things apart in order to reassemble them properly. I know this intellectually, but my emotional awareness just sees things I was playing decently now being played horribly and piles on the self-confidence crisis. Orchestra is a slog too, because I’ve been dealing with the take-apartness issues (I’ve played everything on this program before, so why can’t I do it now?), the past month I’ve been ill and unable to focus properly, and I’m experiencing issues with bringing things up to tempo. I can play them sub-tempo at home, and I’m not up to speed yet at rehearsal, which, let me tell you, is frustrating and embarrassing when you sit second chair right in front of the conductor. (I am very specifically not looking at the Beethoven, here. I know, I asked for a Beethoven symphony; I’ve changed my mind. How about some Haydn? Or some Boyce?) So rather than being excited about cello the way I was in the spring and early summer I’m dragging my feet.

There’s a wedding this Saturday for which I’m trying to muster up the enthusiasm to attend. It’s Thanksgiving, which means there will be a visit to the in-laws. Perhaps that’s part of my trouble; we usually visit my parents at this time of year, and maybe not going is messing with my seasonal pattern.

Ultimately it all comes down to being frustrated because I don’t have enough energy to handle everything I need to handle. I want to go out; I stay home because I know that if I go out I’ll exhaust myself for an undetermined period of time. I can’t focus on work. Cello is at a not-rewarding point.

The one good thing that’s happening is spinning. I am so thankful I discovered it at this particular point, because it’s productive and creative while being not overly demanding energy-wise. I just started my first spinning with colour experiment (see above), and it’s brilliant. Ceri got the fibre as a sample when we took our spindle class together in May, and found it while she was looking for something else during the crafting weekend. The bag of roving was a bit garish, but I test-spun it and lo and behold, it’s exactly my goddaughter’s favourite colours: hot pink, deep greens and blues, and some purples. The colours soften and blend so much during the spinning process that the single is quite attractive. I’m so glad, because finding a yarn for the wrap I wanted to knit for her as a Yule gift was becoming quite a trial (not that I was looking for a colourway with all her favourite colours in it; this was pure serendipity). I’m spinning a fairly fine single, and fingering weight (what the pattern calls for — well, actually it doesn’t, it calls for laceweight, but I’m knitting a heavier wrap so I’ll be using fingering weight) will be no problem at all. Thank goodness my beloved LYS Ariadne Knits had another couple of the small 2oz bags in stock; they’ve got those aside for me, and all together that will be 6oz and more than enough (she said, crossing her fingers and looking sternly at the spinning wheel, which is totally innocent). Of course, once it’s spun up and plied I’ll have to knit the thing, which is another kettle of fish entirely. I am also planning to knit a hat with earflaps for the boy, so we shall see what all these good intentions bring.

Bits And Pieces

The Corriedale I spun shrank when I washed it, apparently significantly judging from where it’s hung when I tried to fit it back on the skein winder to evaluate it. It covers only three of the pegs and makes a loose triangle now instead of fitting around all four pegs to make a snug square. Better it shrink now than later after being knitted, but still; annoying. I’ll have to reskein it and measure it again to make sure Ceri has enough for her project. It looks very pretty in its little temporary twisted skein, though. (And upon trying to reskein it I find that it has tangled somehow, despite my careful tying. Grr. We’ll need to use the ball winder on the weekend. I need one of my own. Well, that should thrill the boy.)

The elastic on pretty much all my trouser socks has relaxed, even on the ones I haven’t worn yet. Everything I’ve put on so far falls down around my ankles. This is really, really annoying, because I love my patterned trouser socks for this time of year, and I haven’t even worn half the ones tucked away in my bin yet. It means I have to sort through my sock bin yet again and toss out what are perfectly good socks except they don’t fit my calves. (No, I have not lost weight or muscle tone; the elastic has gotten old, that’s all.) I don’t even know if thrift stores will take them. [ETA: No, wait! I know what I need: These funky brown sock garters I bookmarked ages ago! Hah, I just saved a whole slew of socks. Or I will have once I have the money to order these.]

I went to orchestra last night, and although everyone was horrified at how I looked and sounded I managed remarkably well. Working the first movement in such detail earlier this week helped a lot. I probably should have left at break, because I didn’t get much work done in the second half (and the bowings and slurs for the third movement are awful, I need to clean them up to make them readable which means a lot of corrector fluid), but even just being there absorbing the right kind of sound and the conductor’s directions was better than missing it entirely.

Today is one of those odd Twilight Zone kind of days where the sun hasn’t actually come out so I don’t know what time it is, and having an hour-long nap around lunch has further messed up my sense of where I am during the day.

I am working my way through polishing the freelance thing, taking plenty of breaks because I’m exhausting myself thinking through sentences. One of my breaks was to engage in a meme going around called the Handwriting Meme. I’m not big on memes and quizzes, but this struck me as really interesting. We read e-mail and people’s online journals all the time, and we rarely see their handwriting. I wasn’t specifically tagged by anyone (and good thing, because I hate that) but at least two people whose journals I read threw it open to anyone who wanted to play along. So here, for the record, is mine. Click it to embiggen so as to make it readable.


1. Write your username.
2. Write your 2 favourite bands/groups of the moment.
3. Write something you love, aka lemme see your heart.
4. Write the name of your favourite person of all time.
5. Write the name of your recent favoured person.
6. Tag 6 people to do this meme.

In other news, hello, it is the first of October, and I still haven’t finished the boy’s September monthly update. I’m trying, but I’m just slogging. And now there’s another one to do in ten days. I don’t have the mental energy. Even acknowledging the fibro I get pretty down on myself. And then I read Laura Hillenbrand’s “A Sudden Illness” in which she outlines her life with chronic fatigue syndrome, and I am so desperately thankful that my chronic illness is nowhere near the degree of hers. At the same time I feel a bit better about not having the energy to think things through, about not being able to find the right word, about not engaging in discussions that I’m passionate about. Too many times this past weekend I had to stop in the middle of a statement because I couldn’t think my way through to the end of it, which was really frustrating. I end up being brusque with the people who press me to continue or want to hear more, because I can’t think properly. It makes me sound like I don’t know what I’m talking about or as if I don’t care, and I hate that.

I know it’s also going to take me forever to get back to what-passes-for-normal-in-fibro operating levels once I finally kick this flu-cold thing, and knowing that makes me irritated as well. I wonder if that’s one of the reasons why spinning appeals to me so much. I’m sitting down, it’s a sensory-based activity that doesn’t require a lot of analysis and mental gymnastics, and I feel productive because there are tangible results. I suspect this is one of the reasons why writing has been frustrating me lately, because it requires me to think and I get lost so easily. You know, I can handle a lot about fibro: the aches, the sleep thing, not having a lot of energy available… but the fibro-fog that clouds my thinking processes? This, I hate the most.

Weekend Roundup

So very tired. This cold is kicking me, and dealing with the boy’s cold and being home 24/7 is draining me even more. Plus it was a packed weekend (of course).

Before the weekend roundup begins, it is important to note that on Thursday night, I rejoined the Thursday night gaming group for the first time in, oh, possibly almost a decade, because HRH rearranged the basement office to make room for a table and chairs and the gang came over here so that both HRH and I could be in the game at the same time. I’d originally dropped gaming because I was burnt out, and then there was the boy and someone needed to be home with him, so even though the spirit was willing, getting a babysitter every Thursday night was not remotely possible; besides which, the fibro over the past handful of years (pre- and post-diagnosis) makes evenings out doubtful. But the compromise of being in one Thursday night game a month(ish) and in my own home is very doable. MLG has launched a new Star Trek game which promises to be very exciting, and it was very flattering to have so many people thrilled that I was back. I’ve missed the gang, and it’s great that they’re willing to move that one game in the four-game rotation to a place where I can participate.

I got an e-mail Friday afternoon from the freelance coordinator, who congratulated me on my patience and courage in handling the horrific project I’d handed in Thursday night. And my new assignment landed, which is a lovely little 23K word general fiction manuscript to evaluate, which I suspect was cherry-picked for me after the nightmare, bless them. HRH came home at lunch on Friday, and Friday afternoon we went to HRH’s parents’ house to belatedly celebrate his mom’s birthday. It was much more relaxing than I expected it to be, and I got another inch knitted on my lace scarf. I had a good cello lesson on Friday night, too, which helped. I was upfront about my lack of energy and focus, so after we worked a bit of Mooney we sight-read the Mozart duet that M and I are playing for the recital this December. It’s just lovely, and amusingly/conveniently enough it hits all the things I need to work on: smooth bow changes, listening, timing, and expression. I didn’t hate everything I played, which I tend to do when I’m tired and can’t remember new instructions from one moment to the next. The pretty melody helps a lot with that. I love to play it. I’m so fortunate that my teacher understands that I have a condition with fatigue and focus issues, and is willing to work with me through them.

Saturday morning we did groceries and I baked. I made a double loaf of herb bread with half white and half whole wheat flour and an apple cake to take to the harvest ritual at Rowan Tree Farm that afternoon. HRH headed off belatedly to deliver things and pick Amanda up and didn’t get back till half an hour after I’d wanted to leave. As RTF is an hour and a half away that means we got there an hour later than the suggested target time. We had a lovely harvest ritual in which we counted our blessings, and then t! and Jan feasted us with local venison and boar sausages, lamb sausage, locally sourced beef, and the side dishes the guests had brought. We had to flee around seven-thirty because the boy had to get home and HRH had a bachelor party to attend back home. I felt rushed, which on top of the cold and increasing fatigue due to said cold and small boy being home sick made me disinclined to be social.

Sunday morning was Pagan playgroup, which HRH attended with us because I was too fatigued to drive safely. The coordinator was delighted to see him, especially since half the kids were missing. It was a really nice low-key day. On the way home we stopped at a pharmacy so I could finally pick up cold medication for myself. After a chat with my mum and a light lunch I napped while the boy did, and then Ceri came over for a wonderfully quiet afternoon of knitting… which neither of us did. I spun another threeish ounces of Corrie, and she crocheted. And the boy learned how to use the ball winder, an event he has been looking forward to for ages. (How many four year old boys do you know who can correctly identify a ball winder in a catalogue?)

He was very excited about making ‘yarn cakes’, and stacked three of varying sizes into a wedding cake-like configuration. Ceri got to use the skein winder in conjunction with the ball winder too, which was very exciting once we figured out the angle necessary so the thing would actually turn to wind off the skein while she wound it into a centre-pull ball. And we discovered that if I mount the skein winder on the wheel post backwards, I can keep spinning while it’s being used. Efficiency!

HRH handled dinner and let me have a bath, for which I was extremely grateful because the fatigue was getting worse. After dinner we put the boy to bed, Blade came down to be the Designated Responsible Adult On Site, and we headed out to our monthly steampunkian horror game chez Tal. Everyone was tired, so it was a very brief focused game in which yet more puzzle pieces dropped into place and important info was added to the clues we already had.

This morning the boy is home yet again, because his nose is still unpredictable and every few hours there’s a nasty coughing jag. As bronchitis popped up at the school twice in the past couple of weeks, I’m taking him to the doctor today (if there’s an appointment free; can’t call till nine, and the line will be swamped with everyone calling in after the weekend, grr) to make sure all’s well with him. If I can’t get an appointment, I’ll try sending him in tomorrow.

Speaking of which, I’m off to brave the phone lines. Wish us luck.

ETA: Forty minutes to get through… and the doctor’s not in this week. The nurse asked if he had a fever (no), if there was anything alarming (no), was I giving him anything for it (yes, an expectorant syrup), said that a lot of the viruses (virii?) going round left lingering dry coughs that weren’t indicators of anything serious, and to take him to a clinic if it hasn’t cleared up by the end of the week. Fine; Plan B it is! Keep him home today, send him in tomorrow.

Last-Minute Thoughts

Hmm. I wonder if I can sneak the cello into the car to take on the trip to Nova Scotia. Playing on the deck overlooking the islands of Indian Point, at dawn or sunset, with the sound of the waves rippling on the stony beach and the birds flying overhead? Yes, please.

Somebody would probably notice the lack of room in the trunk for things like duffel bags of clothes, though.

Good things that happened today: I got lovely positive feedback from the client about the PhD thesis proposal that I edited, and his thanks for a great job. I charged him my lowest rate, because I know what it’s like to be a student. I hope he contacts me when it’s time to edit his thesis.

Less than good things: Today was yet another exercise in frustration as regards the library. I left to go downtown, and remembered only after I’d gotten on the bus that I needed two pieces of ID and couldn’t remember if both needed my address on them or not. Rather than risk getting there and having to come back home empty-handed, I got off the bus a few blocks along and walked home to get a utility bill. (Walking; brilliant plan. Wasn’t that what killed me on Wednesday?) And on the way, I tripped (in flats, on a level surface, I give up) and wrenched my left ankle. So by the time I got home I was frustrated and exhausted and in pain, and gave up. The fibro wins this week; I don’t care. I could have gone out and done it all over again, but it would have taken even more out of me and I was already running on low reserves thanks to what I’d done earlier in the week. If I’d done it I would have ruined the next few days, which are set to be challenging already (long car trips and the fibro do not agree with one another). So I asked HRH if he’d take me downtown when he got home, which turned out to be a much better plan. I am duly impressed with the size and selection at the Bibliotheque nationale. I was also impressed at the twenty-minute lineup to get a card, and the ten-minute lineup to borrow books. Over 10,000 people use the library daily, the documentation says, which gives me renewed hope in the future of humanity. Also, I have my spinning books, although the book on Baroque cello revival that I wanted wasn’t on the shelf, although the catalogue insisted that it was available. I’ll have to ask at the desk next time.

The irony? My driver’s license was accepted as both proof of identity and proof of residency. Two in one.

Today is, I think, the first time I really, truly hated the fibro. Before I’ve always been understanding or chagrined that I didn’t manage my resources well enough. But today, I hated it with savage resentment. Why was this week different? Not that fibro needs a reason to act up; I know that. This week it seemed deeply unfair, however, and all the more so because we’re about to have a real vacation the likes of which we haven’t had for about seven years.

All that aside, things look good for the drive. The boy is very excited about seeing the ocean for the first time, and I confess that I am longing to see it again myself. You can move the girl out of the Maritimes, but a little bit of her will always be there.

I really, really wish I could take my cello.

Be well, gentle readers.