Frightening Fibro Fog

Fibro fog … any fatigue syndrome sufferer will understand it … that sudden loss of train of thought, the struggle for the right word or name, the inability to concentrate for even a second on the simplest of tasks.

For me, it usually manifests in one of two ways.  It’s either that struggle for words where you end up flapping your hands around at the person you’re speaking to in a ‘you know what I mean/oh what’s the word’ fashion.  Or it’s a sudden and complete shutdown of cognitive ability that makes you want to run away and cry.

I suffered the latter most recently last week, when I was taken somewhere I hadn’t expected to be that day, and asked to make a relatively simple decision.  What did I want for lunch?  I stared at the menu, and couldn’t even take in what I was looking at, let alone the different categories or meals, or meal ingredients.  It took me almost 15 minutes to be able to bring my head around, the ‘mood music’ and presence of other (actually very quiet) clientele making it more difficult.  A sensory overload if you will. 

If I’d been alone, this would have been one of those moments where I just walked out.  I’ve done it in supermarkets before – everything’s just been too much to handle, and I’ve left the trolley in the middle of the aisle and gone home with nothing (my apologies to which poor employee has to tidy such trollies away ... it's not an intentional action to leave it).  

If I’m at home, this is one of the points where I go and shut myself in the bathroom, or go to bed and bury my head under my duvet, away from any and all sound and distraction.  It was only because my companion at the time understood, and was able to give me the time I needed, that I actually ended up eating.

I thought that scenario was bad enough, scary enough … then this morning hit.  A whole new aspect of Fibro fog I’ve never experienced before.

Whilst I can lose a sentence mid-way through, forget the simplest of words etc., struggle to follow a route or set of directions, my memory to date for other things hasn’t been too affected.

Until today.

I’d had to go to the next town to collect a prescription for one of my kids.  Issued by the hospital, it couldn’t go to my regular pharmacy in the village, but had to go to the nearest in a large chain.  I’d got a taxi there, I always do for journeys like that.  The combination of waiting for and traveling by bus is often enough to shut me down physically or mentally, so I avoid doing so, especially when I don’t know the destination too well, and/or know I can’t use the taxi for the return for whatever reason.

Once I’d got the script, I took a look in the charity shop next door.  It’s for the hospice who looked after my mother in her last days earlier this year, and I like to support them when I can … and seeing as this is the first time in almost a year I’ve been near one of their shops, it was almost impossible for me not to take the opportunity while I could.

So, I amass a little pile of things … thank you to whoever with my taste in music decided to donate what looked like half their collection recently – it’ll be playing on my PC as soon as I finish typing … that darned fibro fog again means I can’t type and listen at the same time today. 

But back to the point.  I had no cash on me.  Cashpoints are few and far between in my world, so my plan had been to get enough funds for the whole week out of the ATM before getting the bus home, as the stop is right next to one.  I didn’t even have my bus fare at this point.

So, out comes the debit card to pay for my new music etc., and I punch in the PIN.  Declined – incorrect PIN.  I assume I miss-hit a key, so punch it in again.  Declined again.  At this point, I know I have only one more attempt, and my Fibro fog is making me second guess myself, so I punch in a slightly different number, thinking I’m getting confused with an old PIN.  Declined again.

Have you ever had the embarrassment of having to hand shopping back at the till, whether it be lack of funds, faulty card or any other reason?  It’s horrible isn’t it?

So, after apologising profusely and barely biting back a panic attack, I make the trek to the cashpoint.  Bear in mind, this was supposed to be my last part of my journey, so I’m already walking further than I’d planned, and I’m starting to feel wobbly and woozy, partly from my health, and partly from the emotional stress the whole PIN debacle was causing.

I get to the cashpoint, and stand there for a few minutes trying to get the courage to try again.  Remember, I’m miles from home, and without any cash, so if this doesn’t work, I am literally stranded.

On the walk to the ATM, I’ve convinced myself I must have the wrong PIN, so try another combination.  Declined.  I try another.  Declined.  Oh Sh**.  One last chance, or my card won’t just be declined, but swallowed in a fraud/theft prevention thingy.  If that happens, I can't pay for my taxis this week, my kids will miss their after school activities and the school summer fair, I won't be able to pay the chap who helps with the garden, or the lady who helps with the house.  So many things relied on me having cash today.

One. Last. Chance.  

I’ll be honest, I don’t even know what number I punched in, my mind was so addled by that point.  I was obviously on automatic … which was apparently a good thing.

Because it worked!

I had cash!

I was saved!

I almost cried there in the street,

So, what happened back in the shop?  I have no idea. 

I’ve had the PIN for over 6 months, and never had a problem before.  It’s just one of the horrors I, and so many others, have to live with each day.  Looks like I might have to break that cardinal rule of PINs and write it down somewhere … when I’m sure what it is.