Friday, September 22, 2017

Another flare...

When I do not have a particular bit of bodily misery for a while and then it flares its ugly head, I struggle even more than usual.  But, also, I have found it increasingly difficult to get through the flares of misery being so alone anyway.  SIGH.

Today, it was an hour of lying on the floor whilst sweating, trembling, vomiting, weak, and writhing.  Damn vagus nerve!  I was ever so sick and despairing because the offensive stool was taking far too long to move to a location that was less offensive.  Sometimes, this means going to the bathroom.  Sometimes, that bodily process happens hours and hours later.  Just as long as the stool stops triggering the nerve, I don't much care.  I just want the misery to end!

I very much dislike being so very ill, especially being so weak whilst I am ill. There is this tiny part of me that feels as if I am surely dying, even though I know that I am not.  Even though I know that this, too, shall surely pass.

It is difficult to describe how it feels to have your blood pressure plummet.  Often, I can drink Gatorade and eat something salty and feel better.  But that is the general low blood pressure.  But when that damn vagus nerve is triggered and my blood pressure plummets salt and fluid loading doesn't help.  I think it is the weakness that is the worst.  I absolutely cannot stand being helpless and, when triggered this way, I cannot really do much besides lie on the floor and ride out the misery.

I did spare a thought or two at one point wondering if it is worse when stool triggers my damn vagus nerve or when it triggers my damn pudendal nerve.  Certainly when I am in the thrall of one, it is absolutely the worst.  But when the other is stricken I am without a doubt that it is the worst.  For a couple of months now, I was convinced that the pudendal neuralgia flares are the worst.  Today, I was reminded of the agony of being at the mercy of a triggered vagus nerve.

I did manage to text my dear friend Becky, asking if she would call me on her way home from work.  So desperate was I to not be alone with my misery.  She did call, just moments after the misery had passed.  I felt obliged to tell her that I was better because I know that she's still adjusting to working full-time and arriving home after the children are back from school.  Even so, Becky showed me the mercy of a lengthy, loving visit.

Although I did not address such with her, the call helped me with the shell-shock that always follows the great flares of bodily misery.  After a migraine or a pain flare or a blood sugar crash or a blood pressure plummet, I am felled by the cessation in a different and strange sort of way.  It is hard to adjust to being at great war with your body and then suddenly find the battle ended.

I mean, I am ill every day.  I battle exhaustion and weakness and dizziness and nausea as par for my course.  At times, I have to gather my foggy wits and fumble my way through the day, in addition to being ill.  And then there are the flares.  Or "episodes."  Episodes is what I see folk call the greater flares of illness on the dysautonmia forums.  I find that word ... odd.  I know that the word "flare" is usually reserved for an escalation of pain, but I think it fits with an escalation of illness.    

Today was a particularly awful flare.

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