I have officially been in pain for seven months straight with few days in-between where the pain was officially gone for a couple of hours. Meanwhile, I’m trying to get my things together before I leave for Israel. Laundry, medications, packing. I have a one-page paper to write and a five-page paper due by the 21st, the last of the assignments for my incomplete for my graduate school class.

The worst thing about fibromyalgia is the stress and stress, indeed does make pain worst, despite not being psychosomatic pain. At a meeting today, people were clapping and it hurt so I had to sit there with my noise reduction headphones on, looking fairly silly, knowing that people will talk behind my back but trying to keep a brave face.

On the way home, I lost my prescription from my allergist and realized she failed to give me refills on two prescriptions but since I get confused easily now, something called “fibro fog,” the situation just escalates to all levels of stress. I call her to tell her to fill the missing prescription and another one but forget to remind her I need two refills (so hopefully a pharmacy in Israel will refill it). Then, I remember that I have a third medication that needs two refills as well. And again, I’m reminded that I have no cellphone minutes for two days so I can’t make any phone calls so every minute is costing me a fortune. Tomorrow, unless I reread this blog or write it all down (it hurts more to write than to type and typing and speaking software fall somewhere around the same level of pain), I’ll completely forget most of this situation.

Meanwhile, I have to ask other people for help more than I’ve ever before and that hurts physically, but mentally. A friend said to me the other day, “You’re really unreliable, you never call back” and I don’t think she realizes how hard my day is. At work, we’re packing up for the end of the year and a co-worker has to help me tape a box close. I have to bring this box home and healthy, I could have done it, even up the five flights but now, I can barely pack the box and I have to figure out how to pay to have it sent home or coerce a friend to help.

Laundry is one of the most difficult things for me to do because it quickly causes my fibromyalgia AND chronic fatigue disorder to flare up. So, my sister is supposed to help me with it but she helps me with so much else she hasn’t gotten to it in almost three weeks. Grades are due tomorrow and she has to calculate those. Meanwhile, my living room is a mess because we had to clear out my bedroom to make it allergy-free for the asthma-like symptoms my dust allergies now create. Now, the only room I can breathe in easily (or fairly easily) is my bedroom. On top of four medications for allergy, two medications for fibromyalgia (sleep and anti-inflammatory), I have to carry an asthma pump.

Oh, and did I mention that sitting down and not being a mathematical whiz and all, trying to calculate all I need to get to Israel, to take to Israel, trying to convince pharmacists to GIVE me the medications in advance (doesn’t work), is arduous. Expenses keep cropping up. I’m too exhausted to go to Kmart at 7pm to buy the plastic pillow protectors to help my allergies and….

I feel so overwhelmed. Some of my colleagues today, not the English department, which treats me like a pariah with the exception of one, told me that I’m a great teacher, exactly what the kids need, and I wince at the compliment. I know that after this school year and two months in Israel, I will be unable to return unless some miracle happens and right now, I have a hard time believing in miracles for myself.

So look, if I am a bad friend, if I seem curt or out of it, well, this is the new me. My goal most days is to get home and have the strength to make myself dinner…even a sandwich is difficult…and most days, I can’t. I need help making a sandwich. The work day takes all the energy out of me and Shabbos isn’t enough to recover. I am not strong, I’m no survivor. Indeed, I am very weak. I ask G-d to put me out of my misery with every other breath that I ask G-d to help me make it through the day so I can have the life I thought I would have because things were finally going so well.

Oh, yeah, and did I mention the rabbi I’ve been working with isn’t on “the list” so I’ve been urged to call a rabbi in Monsey to discuss the situation? It’s hard to call my friends, it hurts to dial, but now I have to call someone I don’t even know and explain why I want to convert on a day when hopefully it doesn’t hurt to talk.