A Flare Story: The Fly That Kicked My Butt

I was cooking, I heard the fly and recognized it's green shiny, shimmery, back; the big kind. I took an old towel and rolled it up and did a sideways swat at that fly, and I nearly passed out. The pain shot up into my neck and down into my hands, burning and stinging and aching. I got sweaty and at that point, my arm felt like it was out of the socket. It was stuck. I was holding it with the other hand elevated straight out in front of me. I could not drop it down. My mother lives with us, so I went to her, and she thought I was impersonating Frankenstein or an elephant trunk. I could not speak due to the pain. Still, supper had to be made, and that fly was still alive...

Post-swat flare management

I slowly rotated my arm a bit, making my left arm take care of the right one (thank goodness we have 2) pushed up, over and around and then down at an angle and was able to release the shoulder. It was like getting an old rusty lock to open.
I went back to the kitchen, and eventually, that fly came around again and landed on the edge of my plate. I shooed it away too many times. I was irritated. This particular fly had no idea what his role was in my life that morning. Standing in the kitchen with that fly and an ice pack directly on my skin over my shoulder and sweating, I felt that sickening feeling where you know you're in for a long, painful haul. I got extremely tired and then angry at that fly.

Flare perspective

I've learned 3 things from flares:

  1. I recognize how strong or not strong I am at that time. This depends on other stresses present at that time in life.
  2. I understand that my brain and body are connected, but the brain is in charge. I can tell my body NO! You ARE going to, just do it differently. I am alone with it, in every aspect and I need to make life-altering or not decisions (it's okay if the motivation fuel gauge is low).
  3. Lastly, I drop into complete quiet, head down, eyes closed, and I don't think of anything but that spot I hurt. I address it, forgive my body, accept it as an added-on component to my day, calculate that in, and decide if I am changing anything or not. Take a deep breath (at this point I either cry or get busy, or both).

Aftermath

I decided to get that fly. I chased him around for a while. I am not left-handed.

After a month and 2 docter visits, my arm still hurt from the fly incident. Now, it's clicking and catching on something and then it springs back out and makes me feel like passing out from the sudden, instant, pain. Since then, I have had a shot, oral prednisone, which makes me....grrrrr. It is finally getting better, though.

Moral of the story: Flies do not care about us.

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