Ever had one of those spells where everything you touch seems to turn to crap? You think you’re doing something good and it blows up in your face. Well, I’m smack in the middle of one and I really hate it!
It started when I had a little extra energy. When you have fibromyalgia, you learn to use energy spurts because you don’t know when you’ll get the next one. So last week, I decided that in addition to washing the dishes, I would clean off the oven door. You know how the inside of the door gets spattered with “stuff” even when you cover things? So I took out a “green” cleaner and, with the help of my son for a bit of scrubbing, cleaned the door and rinsed it off. And then forgot about it. At least, forgot about it until I turned the oven on to preheat it for supper. I was sitting at the computer for maybe 5 to 10 minutes when I realized that I had fumes pouring out of the oven.
I jumped up and shut off the oven. I opened the back door onto the porch and the kitchen window. I turned on the bathroom exhaust fan. I prayed the smoke detector wouldn’t go off. Then I decided on an alternative cooking method that didn’t involve the oven. Finished up supper. Lit scented candles and used neutralizer spray to eliminate the odor.
Then I stewed about what to do to remove any remaining residue and make the oven usable again. We washed the oven door well again with mild detergent. I decided we should run the oven on self-clean to really “burn off” anything that was left. The next afternoon, we put the cat and all his accoutrements into the basement. We turned on the oven to “Clean”, turned down the heat, opened a couple windows and bolted from the house to run errands.
Several hours later we were back – hopeful but tired. One sniff as we stepped onto the back porch convinced us we were not going to be happy. We opened the back door and went into the house. We immediately set about opening more windows – a really great thing to do in the middle of the winter. Then back to the spray and candles.
Sunday morning dawned with a definite haze in the house still. Enough to sting the eyes and lungs a bit – at least mine (my husband is not as “sensitive” as good ol’ “fibro girl”). Before leaving for church, we opened windows and turned on the bathroom fan again – and turned down the heat, of course – we can’t afford to heat up all outdoors at these heating oil prices! It was only a little improved by the time we got home, so I made a bold decision. Open more windows. Bring up one of the summer fans and set it up blowing the air out of the house. Keep the heat down, of course.
It seemed to be helping. It also got cold in the house. We put on extra layers and toughed it out. I told my husband we could now truly claim some “solidarity” with the folks out on the “rez” who can’t pay for their propane to heat their homes and have to do the same thing! Of course, we had the heat available, so it wasn’t quite the same. After several hours, we caved in and closed up the house so we could turn on the heat. We did leave one window, with the fan pointing out, open longer. So now we were at least trying to heat up all outdoors. But it had helped and since Sunday, things have steadily improved.
Except, of course, that now I’m afraid to use the oven to cook again because I don’t want to start that process again. And everything else I touch seems to get screwed up.
We’ve cooked on the stove top, in the microwave and on the grill outside. Or not at all – by eating out. Cooking and eating hasn’t been a problem. But I can’t seem to stop being klutzy and brain foggy. I have been knocking things over, like the water bottle on my desk that spilled over some papers and the keyboard. I used more paper towels that time than I’d used in a month before!
Late last week my sister had called to advise me that we had been given the incorrect address for the Scleraderma Foundation so that folks could send memorial donations in honor of my mother. I wrote down the correct address. Yesterday I got a call from someone whose donation had been returned by the postal service because of the address change. I couldn’t find the new address. It should have been right here on my desk. It has disappeared. Maybe it dissolved in the fumes over the weekend.
I have had several other episodes of being unable to locate things I was sure I could find. They weren’t where they should be! Of course, I eventually find them, but the frustration is nasty. I’ve been dropping or nearly dropping things like food I’m working on the prepare.
Today I have an appointment at the weight loss center to see if I get cleared to see the surgeons. I hope my weight has remained stable since the last time. With all the routine disruptions that have come with my mother’s death and this goofy spell since, I know I haven’t been as “mindful” of my eating as I ought to have been. I know I have a bit of edginess about this process.
I think all the things going wrong lately could be a result of the imbalance I feel in my life since my mother died. I sure hope it passes soon.
In fact, I’m hoping that this coming weekend will nip it in the bud! My husband surprised me with a Valentine’s gift – a long weekend in Hilton Head, SC. Gated resort on the beach. Spa with a massage scheduled. Ocean view from our suite. No agenda – just relaxing. Almost sounds like I’ve died and gone to heaven myself.
Maybe I’ll take the laptop so I can let you know . . . . . .