Being A Fibro Dad at Christmas

Christmas is a wonderful time of year. A time for living, a time for believing, a time for trusting, not deceiving, love and laughter and joy ever after, ours for the taking,..... ahem! sorry, slipped into Cliff Richard mode there, but Christmas is definitely a great occasion best spent with family and friends. Great nights in, great nights out, fun, laughter and yes, joy ever after. (Cliff was so right!)

But what's Christmas like when you're in constant pain?

I've spent thirteen Christmasses in varying degrees of agony. Christmas 2002 was spent looking after my heavily pregnant wife - pushing her around town in a wheelchair because the baby had decided to settle on a nerve somehow. A year later and I'd been diagnosed with fibromyalgia, a condition which I didn't fully appreciate at the time. Nor did I have time to. A new baby to care for, a wife with post natal depression and anxiety to care for, a house to look after and a full time job, there was no time to think about what I was doing to myself. 

I started coming down with every condition known to mankind - flu, bronchitis, cold after cold, stomach disturbances, and pain. So much pain. My back was the worst, lower to middle, aching constantly, but I fought on and each Christmas I stood at the oven cooking the family feast. No matter how much pain I was in. I'll be doing so this year too. My wife and I promised ourselves that we'd book somewhere for this Christmas but her mother wouldn't hear of it, so  it'll be just as it always is.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy Christmas, and I love cooking the meal, but once in a while I'd like to give my body a rest from it. Thankfully we don't have a massive family descending upon us each year - but, sometimes, it would be nice to, so that we could go to them!

Also, since 2003 we've had our little bundle of joy to entertain and excite in the run up to the big day. A a father I was suddenly expected to not only cook the Christmas dinner but also unpack and assemble the latest fad-toy - Disney Princess houses, fairy coaches, Barbie cars, kitchens, Littlest Pet Shop villages, Play Mobil schools and villages and cafe's, Moshi-Monster tree houses - all of which seem to have been packaged in high security metal twists and impregnable duct tape, with no prospect of speedy opening or the "Easy assembly" promised on the box! It's difficult enough for a fully able bodied person to fathom these things out. Manufacturers obviously conclude that because you're buying for a child, you're young enough and fit enough to unpack and build their items - they don't think of the less able bodied.  

Thankfully, this year it's fashion and make-up and Hunger Games Mockingjay stuff so there'll be no assembling (fingers firmly crossed) and Emily is at an age to understand that I'm no longer Superman. Imagine telling an excited little girl that she can't play with her new toys until Daddy has the strength to assemble them? It never happened. I pushed through the pain to complete the task, and paid for it later. But it was all worth it in the end and we have some very happy memories to look back on - my only regret is that I don't know how much better it could have been had I not been in agony for most of it.

How do you cope with Christmas? Do you push through and suffer the consequences later, or do you hide yourself away until it's all over?