pitterpat

Many people know very little about Fibromyalgia, and even fewer probably know that it has a long list of symptoms. I am among the many I am sure who have this horrid disease, to have a lot of those annoying symptoms. One of the most frustrating symptoms is being hypersensitive and startling easily (jumpiness). If you google Fibromyalgia you will find this symptom along with a few more that seem to go along with it, such as hypersensitive to light and sound. After years of doctor visits with many different specialists, being poked, prodded, and tested until my hair stood on it’s end all over my body and screamed “hell no more”, I have been told that I have probably had Fibromyalgia since I was very young, just never diagnosed earlier. Upon further digging on the net you might find that some sites claim that hypersensitivity can be linked to stress, trauma, post stress disorder and so on. I suppose also, if you knew my complete history, you might think the later would fit. Or at least add to it.

My most wonderful husband Jerry, can attest to this very annoying symptom, that of being hypersensitive. Over the years he has had to put up with me screaming out of fear just because we met in the hallway. Ear piercing loud screams if I didn’t hear the pitter pat of his feet on the carpet or tap tap on the wood floor before hand. Last night was no exception.

I’d like to add also that I believe in ghosts. Now that makes it interesting, doesn’t it? I think my most wonderful husband thinks I might be a bit crazy when I admit to that. Oh well. Can’t win them all. I’m not sure of my earliest encounter with a ghost, but I will share with you that when Jerry and I went out to sea to sprinkle Jimmy, our first son’s ashes, at sea, Jimmy spoke to me loud and clear. I came right home and wrote a poem about it. That very day. I’m telling you all this because it adds to the whole hypersensitivity issue. See what I mean? Want more?

About a month ago “someone” was flitting around the house while my most wonderful husband and I were watching TV. I never knew who it was, and I usually do know. At first I was scared, then I calmed down when I realized they weren’t out to harm me. And, my dear sweet deceased brother Richard came by for a visit a few weeks ago. But I digress. That will be for another day. Another blog.

So, as often happens, and as I have gotten older and can’t hear as well, Jerry can unintentionally “sneak up on me”. He’s tried many a tactics over the years. Sometimes he’ll say “boog-a-boo” as he enters a room, alerting me he’s nearby. Other times he’ll start talking before he actually is in the same room as me. He tries all sorts of things to make it be known he is nearby, probably so I won’t scream. Loud. Like I did last night!

I was entranced in writing a blog. Not this one. The night air was hot, so we had our big industrial fan blowing the cool night air in through the open patio screen door, making it hard to hear anyone, anywhere. Afterwards Jerry said I was looking sort of in the direction of the doorway, not that I was aware of doing that. Then without seeing him, I looked the other way. It was then that he said to himself “Oh boy, I am screwed.” I am not sure why at that point with that thought running through his head, he decided to lean in close to my left side and patiently stare at me. All the while I was unaware that he was even in the room. See where this is going? Ready? Wait….wait….

YUP! I screamed so loud and long that my voice hurt! And Jerry’s ear drums were pierced with the awful sound that echoed out the screen door into the night. Blood ran down the side of his whiskered face. (Ok, I am exagerating) Our neighbors probably thought I was being murdered. Maybe they thought about calling 911. It was that kind of scream. Long, loud and meaningfull. And embarrassing.

After an “episode” like that happens I am usually so embarrassed. At the time I am truly scared. My heart is racing as if I spent 30 minutes chasing Tom Cruise. I’m breaking out in a sweat like an old menopausal lady, and I have the look of true fear written in every wrinkle. Charming right? Oh well.

There is usually lots of apologies said, then some laughter, and hugging. My most wonderful husband is like that. Very understanding. Well, except about the ghost thing. But we don’t want to go there again. Do we?

ps The photo at the top of this blog is of Neil’s Mercantile in Standish, CA. My husband and I grew up about 1/2 mile from this now boarded up building. We used to wait for the school bus at the corner, not a lot of fun on a cold winter morning. I added this photo because it is said to be haunted. Cool. Google it. You’ll see. Or go here:

http://www.ghostweb.com/standish1.html