My kid would rather eat alone in a restaurant on Thanksgiving than spend time with me.

I am over pain. Why is pain not over me?

Why has building maintenance gone to pot recently, and why oh why is the elevator broken again? It was broken for at least three months just this past spring.

Discussing my health with someone (Yes, it’s a fascinating topic. Or not.) I think what’s been wrong with me all these years is not fibromyalgia, but Prednisone withdrawal. When I first became ill, in 1997, they immediately put me on high doses of Prednisone. When it turned out I did not have whatever they thought, I had to get off it. Took six months. Meanwhile, I lost my strength, my energy, and by a year later, my short-term memory was in pretty bad shape. When I got pleurisy a couple years ago, back on Prednisone, and immediately (within a week) was fine if you take into account that my body has gone to pot after eighteen years of pain and fatigue and miserableness. Now, when I try to cut down the Prednisone, I am right back to pain, fatigue, miserableness. So maybe my body never restarted whatever function the Prednisone was standing in for while I was on it, and I need Prednisone to be functional. Thinky thoughts by someone who is so very, very tired of being ill.