Chances are, if you are at this site, you already know about FM. So, I do not need to tell you how much pain I have or how fatigued I am. I, also, do not need to say that I have periods where the fibro fog makes holding a phone conversation nearly impossible or at times I can not recognize my own handwriting. But, if you are new to fibromyalgia and as desperate as I was at one point, then you need to know that you are not alone.

I stumbled into the diagnosis by accident. I had been quite ill with several blood clots and ended up with surgery twice in eight months. I never recovered. I was always asking how long before I felt better. I was at the surgeons office one day having major difficulty breathing. The x-rays showed my lungs clear, but the possibility of another clot caused him to admit me to the hospital on an emergency basis. I was there for two days while they ran tests. I was fine, according to the tests. Nothing was wrong.

At the next check up at the surgeons, I must have tested his patience. He sent me immediately from his office to see another physician. I sat in a new doctors office fighting tears, anger, confusion and feeling more alone than I can ever explain.

I was shown into a room and asked question after question. My mind was shouting the whole time, "Can't they hear what I am saying??" I expected the general health questions, but then came the "Are you depressed?". Suddenly, I was not only in pain and tired, I was now depressed. I sighed and said through clenched teeth, "No, I am not depressed, I am tired and I hurt." As hard as I was biting my tongue to keep from yelling, there should have been blood running down my chin. "Well," says the new doctor, "lets run some tests." So, began my journey into "test hell" that lasted for over a year.

I found myself at the hospital or doctor's office on a weekly basis. My sinuses were x-rayed, my brain was scanned, my bones scanned, my blood tested and retested and tested a thousand more times. I found myself "at risk" for all types of cancer to the point I felt it necessary to think about funeral arrangements and who was to care for the children.

The blood tests began to show some results. I did have hypothroidism. "Take this synthroid and you should feel better in a few weeks." Did not happen. Another test shows that I need estrogen. Another medication is started with the assurance that I will feel better within six weeks. Did not happen. More tests were ordered, maybe I have MS now or Lupus or bone cancer. My heart is tested. Ahhhh, here is a problem, a prolasped mitral valve and here is some medication for that. Did not help....still tired and in pain.

The pain and fatigue continued and the doctor persisted that I was clinically depressed and in desperate need of sleep. I finally relented and accepted the anti-depressants. After all, hadn't the doctor done everything possible? He had tested and examined and checked all of the body's systems. He had corrected what was correctable. Maybe I am depressed. Maybe I am making this all up. How long will I be on this medication I asked? Not long, maybe a year I was told. I agreed to numb my mind, lose my taste buds, live with numb lips and tongue and sink into the daze of being tranquilized.

I recalled seeing a magazine article, about people always fatigued and suffering from pain. I searched until I found that magazine. I said to my now, not so new doctor, "could I have this disease called fibromyalgia?" This man looked at me, took a deep breath and said, "I suppose you could". That was it. I now had a diagnosis. Did I have a good doctor? Yes, I believe he was always trying to help me. Is he a fibromyalgia doctor? No, but he has offered several times to refer me to someone else. Why do I stay with him? Because, above all else I trust him. I might not agree with him, but he was and is following the generally accepted line of treatment. And, to be perfectly honest, I am better now than when I saw him the first time. Do I recommend this for everyone? No, there has to be more to this than anti-depressants, exercise, and rest.

This brings me to the computer. I had never used one before. I did not know anything about one. But, I needed information. I gathered those numb brain cells, and began to search the web. I found a site looking for people with fibromyalgia to do some beta testing in a chat format. I signed myself up and the world began to open for me. I continued to "surf" and learned how to print articles off the web. I read and talked and talked and talked. I learned how to navigate and use other sites. Something wonderful happened. I found others just like myself! I was not "crazy"! I was NOT making all of this up! I was ill! It was not "in my head". The woman that could not read a book, could not talk very well on the phone, was able to use the computer and read and talk. How amazing!!

As experience grew with the use of the wonderful machine, I found myself in other chat rooms. and then several of us decided we needed a chat room that was just that, "chat". Four of us Paula, Bright, Cyrano and I met on a regular basis on IRC using mIRC and Chatnet and created a channel, #fibromyalgia. I became the channel master. I spent hours and hours there. I listened to others in pain. I sat and heard their anguish and fears. I listened to them debate the value of continuing life. Indeed, I held that same conversation many times.

It was not unusual for me to spend 12 hrs or more in the channel talking to others, waiting to be there for someone in need. How could I do that? What about the children? What about the husband? I ignored them. I was trying to survive. I was trying to find value for my life. My marriage collasped under the weight of my illness. It was never very strong. Now it was fragile and shredding. My business was gone as my husband had taken it over. I fed, dressed my daughters, sent them to school. When they came home I would visit with them, then make sure that they were near by. Sometimes I could fix a meal, often could not/did not. I would eat. I would prepare the girls for bed and kiss them good night. Outside of laundry, some dishes, making beds, very basic home care, I did little around the house. Between the haze, the fatigue and the pain I could not do much. Worthless wasn't I?

I should tell you that I am a 51 yr old mother of five. My older children have left home and become successful in their lives. The two little girls were adopted by my husband and I. Both are mentally impaired, with the oldest having the most severe problems. I am now separated from my husband and in the process of making the separation permanent.

Fibromyalgia is uncomfortable, but not fatal. The worst part is that it is invisible. No one sees the pain. You do not look sick. You can function(on a good day or moment, as the case may be). Slowly, you become isolated. Most of us do not tell others what is wrong. We get tired of saying we are tired or that we hurt and we are sure others are also "tired" of hearing about our fatigue. I make plans to go to my daughters Brownie program and realize that I won't make it through the program or most likely can not drive there. I drive down the highway and suddenly all things swirl before me and panic sets in. How am I going to get everyone home safely? The next thing I know, I am refusing to go places or do things, how do I know how I will feel that day? I go to visit my older children only to discover that a five hr drive is too much for me and the next week suffer for days. Over and over again....stop this, don't do that. Now, I am really isolated. Go nowhere, do nothing.