Fibromyalgia Funsville

Well, I’ve only gone and written a short book on Fibromyalgia, specifically my own experience. Expect whinging, witty barbs and no help whatsoever on the condition. Hopefully, if you’re going through a chronic condition like Fibromyalgia, ME or CFS, it might at least give you a gentle assurance that you are not crazy. Pre-order it

Hobson’s Choice

So, having had a wedge of cashola taken from me by WordPress for another year, I have the dilemma of what to write about. Should I bore you all with yet more fibromyalgia musings and ‘Woe Is Me!’ rantings? Well, occasionally I might. I shall try and be dramatic though my particular battles are not

At long last…

Yes, despite a hundred reasons not to bother, I have finally finished my new book, Gusto. And it’s available on Amazon. And you surely don’t think I’m above plugging it on my site! As previously said, I was tempted to have a fibromyalgic heroine (actually, that should be anti-heroine – read the book and you’ll

How to saw your foot off…

The picture gives an accurate depiction of gout – if only there was a similarly evocative one for fibromyalgia. Perhaps a hot, heavy elephant determined to get a piggyback from you? Or a shaol of Disney-esque piranhas slowly gnawing into your nerves. Piranhas with wobbily dentures as to prolong the experience. Having now got two

Ouch, ouch, ohhh.

So while I’ve been preparing my latest book for publication (and I’m self-indulgent enough to plug it above) I have acquired the rather unpleasant side disease of Gout. Fibromyalgia and Gout. The one-two punch combo that offers you both the dull constant ache of the former and the new hot-broken-glass rubbed into bones feel of

Better Late Than Never?

It has been a while since I have contributed to my own site dedicated to the madness of Fibromyalgia. It almost seems churlish to talk about aches and pains while the world goes through COVID. But the misery of others isn’t like downing the old co-codamol to stop your own body pain. It still happens.

Hulk Smash

In the corner of the world that I am in, there is an insidious damp cold consuming the country. A Dickensian fog covers the streets and I am certain that I saw an urchin begging for more. For the fibromyalgia sufferer, this is especially annoying as that same damp cold feels like it is crushing

Platoon of army ants marching up my body.

And they’re wearing crampons. It’s 5am. The romantic murmur of the waste collection truck fills the air, occasionally punctuated by a gurgle from a local drunk. Most people don’t experience this thrilling audio frisson, but my body – desperate for me to enjoy this – has got me up. With a typical lack of subtlety,

Watching the Abflex presentation at 4am

I was sat on my sofa, church bell outside striking four, dog annoyed at my nocturnal activities. I watched eagerly as the Abflex was keenly advertised by a strapping gentleman with no body hair and a woman who looks like she could quite easily take me in a fight. I had no intention of buying

Why?

So why befoul the internet with yet more waffle? Could this vital service not be ably provided by the politicians and celebrities who are so skilful at it? Should I not just stop writing all together? Well, I’m afraid that’s not going to happen, mum. Join me, therefore, on a sporadic rant about fibromyalgia (often