Talk About Speaking Too Soon..

I complained about not having much to write about. Oh, I should have known better...

That was the 18th. The night of the 19th, I broke my foot. Holy crap, did I hurt myself. For three days, just pain. Real pain. If I was having any Fibro symptoms, I was hurting too much to notice them. Not knowing how to walk in the morning? Guess what? I still have no idea how to walk, five days later. 

But after the third day, Fibro decided to mess with me. I'm wearing a boot, you know, the big hard plastic and velcro Frankenstein thing that keeps your foot from moving at all. But Fibro has decided that other things are going on inside that boot. It has, during the last 48 hours, been filled with Jell-o, cement, warm gravy, ants, cacti -- varying however it wants to at any given moment. And the things that my foot is supposedly doing inside there? The most frequent is that my toes turn into Medusa's hair, probably eight to twelve inches long, squirming all over, interweaving in a macrame artist's worst nightmare. There was also an extra foot shoved in there for a little while. At one point my foot was cut up into about a dozen neat little slices... okay, that one might be real. And to think, I could be wearing the boot for another week, or another six months.

At least I know that Fibro's imagination is in tact!