Saturday was my 35th birthday. I of course used the excuse to cook, a lot, and run up and down my hill between the bonfire and the house, a good number of times. Needless to say, at the end of the day I was very happy, but rather worn out, and I had a blister from wearing barn boots without socks. Sunday morning I awoke rather stiff, and proceeded to climb downstairs backwards on my hands and knees. (We have very steep old stairs, a bit better than a captain ladder.) Things loosened up as the day went on.
Monday I got downstairs the normal way, but my knee went out a few hours later, putting me pretty squarely back in fibromyalgia territory for the day. It was rather disheartening. Then I got the reminder to update my blog, and I commented to my husband about it, that I'd improved but not been cured. My dear man put it back in perspective, "but you've improved a lot". Yes. Yes I have. It's Tuesday, and I'm fine again. Only three days after the stress, one day after the worst of the effects. I should probably take it easy for a bit longer, but I have indeed improved.
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