Hypochondria Revisited

            Doubtless, some people believe that fibromyalgia is a simple matter of hypochondria.  I’d say, though, that the truer statement is this:  persons with fibromyalgia worry about becoming hypochondriacs.  I am a prime example (though some may say I’m past my prime).  Take last night . . .

            Sitting in my recliner, I am enjoying an evening of reading and petting my ever-present cat.  Pretty soon, though, I realize that holding Time (magazine, that is) hurts.  The purring cat keeps me chair-bound as I thoughtfully rub my knuckles instead of jumping up to get and swallow some pain relief.  The stabbing pain in the knuckles is accompanied by the deep ache in the biceps and the almost-numbness stretching down my right forearm.  My shoulders and back don’t feel too good either.

            Is this some new, alarming indicator of another deeper problem?  Will rheumatoid arthritis or West Nile or some medical mystery disease be added to my litany of conditions?  (Sorry; I am exaggerating.  “Litany” sounded so dramatic there that I had to include it, even though my “litany” consists of one official condition—fibromyalgia—and my sneaking suspicion that a second, subclinical condition—Sjogren’s Syndrome—feeds into the fibromyalgia.)

            Before I blast the cat off my lap to do some Mayo Clinic Internet searches, I think back through the day.  Almost immediately, the pain producers come to mind.  The day started with a little bit of ironing.  Later, in the afternoon, I carried multiple loads of heavy grocery bags into the house.  And then during the evening news, I played Spider Solitaire on my laptop even though my right arm was complaining.  Add to that the earlier flurry of activity as I punched holes in papers, cut poster board pieces in half, and typed away on a procrastinated writing project.  Clearly, my arms have done too much today. 

            Oh, well. Except for the ironing and grocery lugging, I enjoyed all of my “too much.”  My modus operandi is that if I have to have pain and fatigue, it might as well be from things I enjoy doing . . . which is why I pay someone else to clean my house so I can invest my energy into writing about not being a hypochondriac and surfing those fascinating Mayo Clinic symptom trails.