Anticipation ...

I'm putting a lot of stock into this steroid injection that I'm getting on Thursday.

Last year, I enjoyed twelve weeks of bliss from the shot.

I expect the same kind of results this year.

That means, finally getting some sleep again, doesn't it?

Shouldn't it?

My sleep is becoming increasingly disturbed of late.  I'm waking every hour and a half now instead of two and a half hours.  That makes for excruciatingly long nights, let me tell you.

Of course, the heat that has descended upon us isn't helping now either.  I've had to resort to keeping a hand towel with me at all times to mop up the sweat again.

Poor John, I keep insisting that the fans be turned on and I want them blowing right on me so he is having difficulty finding a comfortable spot as he tries to avoid the line of wind that is being generated.  (The fan is on the lowest setting, really it is.)

Simply put, I am tired of being tired; tired of waking up feeling tired.

So I'm looking forward to getting this steroid injection and being able to sleep again.  Even if I don't get the same twelve weeks of bliss, I'm sure I'll enjoy several weeks of relief and I will be putting those weeks to good use.

Gonna exercise and lose weight.  (Wonder if I can drop the full 15 pounds that I want to lose over the course of this summer?)

But I will pace myself, I promise.

I have to pace myself.  Because it doesn't matter how good I feel, or how well my hip gets fixed, I still have fibromyalgia and I have to live my life by the constraints placed on me by that beast.

Today, I have to go into the big city for my physiotherapy session, to which I am looking forward, as always.  I'll make a couple of stops en route to pick up a few things we need around here (including a birthday gift for my beautiful boy -- his special day is looming).

But I will be returning directly home from the physio session, because I don't have the energy for anything else.

Pace ... pace ... pace ...

God, I hate that word.