7 Different Forms of Fatigue I Experience Because of Sjogren’s Syndrome
Yesterday I read a post on the Sjogren’s syndrome Foundation blog entitled “13 Types of Sjogren’s Fatigue.” It was a well-written attempt to categorize and explain the fatigue associated with this disease.
Now I may not be as erudite or informative as the author of that article, but I thought I’d give voice to a few more of my own:
1. The “Oh No, I’m Awake! Tiredness”
This is the one I face each and every morning. Sleep? Did I really sleep? I know I spent time in my bed, because I distinctly remember waking up about 25 times throughout the night, but the word “rested” somehow just doesn’t seem to apply.
2. The “Bone Tired Fatigue”
This is the one that comes from dealing with joint and muscle pain. All of that ouching drains my energy and makes getting from here to there a feat of great proportions.
3. The “Lead Foot Weariness”
Having a lead foot usually refers to one who has the propensity to drive fast, but there is nothing fast about this. It feels like something or someone, is literally weighing me down – forcing me to move in slow motion.
4. The “All-But-Surgically-Attached-to-My-Bed Sleepiness”
These are the days when I just can’t wake up when my children or husband try to rouse me from my bed. I respond and tell them I’ll be up shortly, and drop back into a deep sleep within seconds, unable to move from the bed.
5. The “I Emptied Half of the Dishwasher and Need to Rest Exhaustion” (Aka: “I Just Took a Shower Fatigue”)
All of that up and down with my arms, spine, and head. Exhausting. This particular fatigue is somewhat akin to the “I Vacuumed the Living Room Depletion” – sucks the life right out of me.
6. The “In Your Face Fatigue”
This is the one that brings cobwebs to your brain, glassiness to your eyes, and a sense that you are already asleep to your very face. I have no choice but to surrender to this one – for where the head goes, the body must follow.
And then my friends, there is the big one:
7. The “Walking Dead Wipeout”
This is the one that descends in a heartbeat and drops me to my knees. This fatigue begins by turning my leg muscles to rubber, spreads by squeezing the life-sustaining air out of my lungs, and completes the wipeout by leaving me with a blank facial affect and a brain which can only think of three little words in one specific order:
OK, I count seven types of fatigue I deal with. They may not be the Lucky 13 the other author referred to, but they’re the ones I call my own!
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Thinkstock Image By: Maria Kuznetsova