I went to my headache doctor yesterday. I really like him; he’s smart, he’s funny, he gives me drugs. He worries about my blood pressure.
Mine will spike with a headache 190/200 or some sort of whack number like that.I sometimes can tell how bad it is before the nurse takes my blood pressure and I’ll say,”Oh, I think it’s like 160 or 170″. With no headache, I’m reliably 112/72. Too bad I usually have a headache.
So I’m in for a checkup and end up my usual cocktail of injections and this time they hurt. They usually don’t. I had some Turidol a couple of days ago and it hurt, too.So it looks like I’m going back to San Francisco for a week, hooked up to an IV. The whole DHE drip is hideous, there is nothing on television (oh, I watched some marathon in Spanish about Spanish music in America. That was pretty good). The bed is uncomfortable. The food is really good. But the DHE is awful.
So we’re talking about the DHE and my headaches (which are more reliable than the trains in this town).I’m anemic and I’m just sobbing because my shoulder is torn up and there is something wrong in my head and I feel awful and I have to have surgery and the DHE is just one more thing I have to deal with and that is just me.If I could reach a gun, I’d use it.I can’t even reach the shelf I keep the soup bowls on.
So he starts me on some death and doom stuff. I might be a tad depressed. Especially since I can’t sleep and I’ve lost weight because really? Nothing tastes good and nothing sounds good. Even stuff I know I like? After a few bites, it is just more work that it is worth. Even Almond Joys. I bet I’m the only person on earth with half-eaten Almond Joys in the freezer.
I don’t even care about shoes. Or anything else.
My Da, after he retired would always say, if you asked him how things were “Oh, waiting for death.” I think maybe he was a wee bit depressed because that is exactly how I feel.