Hi. I'm Amy. I'm 26, and I have Fibromyalgia.

Actually, today is the first anniversary of my diagnosis.

This is my story, or the first part anyway.

    I remember the first time I felt the pain. I was sitting in Biology class in college. I was 19. I wondered why my back was hurting so bad. .  .all the time. I blamed it on the classroom seats and/or my posture, and made an appointment with my doctor. The whole visit was probably about three minutes long, and he sent me on my way with a popular anti-inflammatory.

    The pains came and went for a couple more years, and once more became painful enough for me to need to see a doctor again; a new one this time. After touching my shoulders, and upper back, she said I had stress related muscle spasms. At this time, I was juggling school with an almost full time job. She prescribed me two different muscle relaxers, one for day, and another for night.

    It wasn't that much longer, six months or so, that I was back in her office in pain. A friend telling me that I felt like I had rocks under my skin urged me to go. I knew this wasn't normal. She wrote refills for the muscle relaxers. However, this time she said something different. She said "I'm afraid it might be Fibromyalgia, but you're so young that I doubt it." I agreed. One of my mother's friends has it, and it sounded so horrible, that I just knew that couldn't be the problem. I was 21.

    It wasn't long after that that I moved from community college to a state university to pursue my degree in Theatre. I was also in a new realtionship, and was very happy about where my life was going at the time. I often hurt, and was anxious. I just assumed it was the stress from the changes that were going in my life.

    A few months down the line, the relationship went sour, but I toughed it out. I couldn't talk about my pain, or fatigue, or anxiety, because I would get responses from him like "Shut up, I don't want to hear it, you're sick all the time!" Why I stayed past that point, I have no idea. It was probably because for the first time in my life, I was alone; save him. I hung in there, even though I knew he wasn't good for me.

    A bit later, a saw a doctor at the university about the anxiety. She gave me about three months worth of Zoloft samples; and it worked. Unfortunately, I had no insurance, so I could not keep taking it.

    A year after that, it was time to graduate. I felt so accomplished. I was the first of my Grandmother's Grandchildren to graduate college. That was more of an honor to me that going to pick up my diploma. Before graduating, I planned to put in my resume at a Telecommunications company in the next town, and just a couple weeks after graduation, they hired me. I was still in the toxic relationship, and I still hurt and worried constantly. I took over the counter meds for the pain, and toughed it out. We were living together at this point.

    Then almost exactly a year to my hire date at work, all of the sudden, the toxicity ended. He left. One would think that all of the sudden an angelic sound would pour from heaven, and my pain would be lifted, and all would be well. Not in the slightest. I was hurting even more, and having full on panic attacks.

    I remember the day well that I was in such pain that it was nauseating, and it is here that my road to diagnosis starts. That day, I was sitting at work, hurting, and so unbelievably sad. I decided that after work, I would go to the clinic that was in the town where I lived.

    I only mentioned the pain, because I felt ashamed of the anxiety and depression. The nurse prac was the only one in the office that day, and she wrote me a mild narcotic like pain reliever, and the same muscle relaxer that I'd taken for years.

    It wasn't two weeks later that I was back in the doctors office, and luckily she was in that day. I was still hurting so bad, and having panic attacks. I came clean about the break-up this time, and the anxiety. She was very sympathetic. She gave me Xanax to help with the immediate anxiety, Zoloft to take for the long haul, and Lorcet for the pain.

    She also did some x-rays, which led to an MRI which led to me seeing an Orthopedic specialist, who said my spine and neck was fine, and said for me to go to a Rheumatologist. I called the clinic I had been frequenting, and got a referral.

    She was quick, barely touched me, and didn't even touch me where I told her I hurt. She told me I had Chronic Myofascial Pain, and crammed some Lyrica down my neck. I hate Lyrica. I hate it with the heat of a thousand suns. It made me such a zombie, that I overslept for four hours, and missed a half day of work. Most importantly, it didn't work.

    I saw her a couple of more times. She wouldn't listen to me. I told her how fatigued I was; she told me I was probably Narcoleptic. She also floundered between the diagnosis's of the Chronic Myofascial Pain, and Fibromyalgia. I wanted a diagnosis.

    I got fed up with her, and chose my own Rheumatologist, and got a referral. He was wonderful. He did a full exam, including the trigger point test. He had a sneaky way of doing it so you didn't know when he was going to press on a control, or a trigger point to see if they were sensitive. He diagnosed me with Fibromyalgia, and Chronic Myofascial Pain, and told me to get a good nights sleep, and get aerobic exercise; way different from a fistful of pills.

    I still see him; and as I said above, today is the first year anniversary of my diagnosis.

Please keep checking for updates, as writing is my therapy, and I still have a lot to say about fighting the good fight.