Twelve in a row, skip a day, another, skip a day, so I might be due for one today or not. I have been spending my days either waiting for the clinic to open, at the ER (my turn-around time there is less than an hour. They know me…which isn’t the kind of “fame” I envisioned for myself). Because of the whole headache thing, I have lost 30 pounds and my clothes just hang off me. And conversely, because of the headaches, I have no desire to find anything that fits. I know I have jeans that fit, I just can’t drag myself into the closet to look for them.
I watched a keynote speech, given by my headache doctor (Dr. Goadsby), who looks at these headaches as a puzzle and at the migrainers who have them as sort of interesting puzzles, since none of us suffer alike, but we all suffer. As bad as mine are? I am in the lucky 1% who doesn;t suffer much. Compared to my fellows, I don’t hurt at all. Which sort of tells you how totally fucked their lives are, since my head drives my entire life.
Sunday, no head. So did I clean? Don’t be silly. I lounged around like I was normal, instead of trying to get something done.
Monday? AN afternnon headache and I had to WAIT for Mike to get off work to take me in. What a day that was. Crying, burying my head in all the pillows. Trying not to move until he got home…short with me because, well. $100 bills don;t grown on trees. (I KNOW THAT.) Every time I go in, I automatically subtract something I really would like to do from the money list and it is getting OLD.
Yesterday (Tuesday), no head. So I did clean in sort o fa schizophrenic way….bounced all over the house in twelve hours later, even I couldn’t see what I had accomplished. I did get laundry done; Mike was mudding drywall yesterday and came home, as usual, soaked. I washed all of his work clothes, ironed his shirts and washed his various braces…nothing is worse than sweaty, muddy braces. Nothing worse than wearing sweaty muddy anything for that matter.
(The Blind Side is playing at the clinic and I have watched it all in bits and pieces.) Not a bad way to see a movie…one day I’ll watch it all in order and it will make more sense…but watching like this gives weight to individual scenes and characters. The last time, LeeAnn went to see Micheal’s mother to get permission to be his legal guardian. Lord have mercy! It was a crack house, but had enough similarities to MY house that it made me feel a tad slovenly. The only thing lacking was dust. It was just all over messy. So I’m working to keep the cluster out of the rest of the house and contained just to my room.
Today, I tackle the kitchen. It is a wonder to me that the kitchen in my house is the first room to suffer when I have a headache. It is like the dishes and foodstuffs get flung around, along with any stray dishtowels. I wonder sometimes if some kind of an alternate universe is going on in there, while I am out of commission with my dreadful head. Some wild party goes on, because when it is all over, I have the after-math to deal with and find myself cleaning up stuff I don’t even recognize.
I did manage to go to the market yesterday and pack in enough for a week. People around here get cranky if they run out of food and have to live on macaroni and cheese, eggs and spam.
So far, my head is fine…that makes three days this month. I can feel the little nagging shadow of the fish-knife digging inside my left eye but it is okay;; sort of like too tight new shoes in the beginning of a day when you figure you won’t do much walking, anyway.
I am just hoping for enough time to get the dogs walked, the never-ending trash taken out, the kitchen clean, the bed made (sorta) and the halls swept. I’d like to get the shedding dog brushed today, out on the veranda. Feed the birds and avoid going in for a shot. Every day I can stay home is $100 in my pocket. Clusters are expensive but then of course, the other option is a stroke, which somehow, I think is even more pricey in the long run.
Mind you, if I thought I’d have a stroke and die immediately, that is what I’s do. Chronic illness takes a terrible toll on a family. Sometimes I think it is worse for them than for me.
I know it is worse for them.