Monday and Tuesday were two weeks long. Two months, two years, I don’t even know. Monday morning I had the worst headache of my life accompanied by extreme light sensitivity and puking all day long. Praying to God to help help help please help me until I couldn’t take it anymore and at 8pm M drove me to to St. Pete’s where they gave me IV liquids and morphine and some other stuff, then gave me a CAT scan and spinal tap. Maybe when you get your first migraine at the ripe old age of 43 and it’s this bad, they are concerned there is bleeding on the brain – but that ‘s been ruled out.
We got home at 4:30am and fell into bed exhausted, where I got 4 hours of beautiful wonderful sleep before I woke and it started all over again. M tried to take the day off to stay with me, but he had to go to work so I took the pills they’d given me the day before – the ones to stop the nausea and headaches. Two minutes later they were gone from my stomach, along with half a cracker and sip of water I’d tried to eat with them. BAM BAM BAM went my headache.
I called my mother and bless her she came and dropped me off at St. Pete’s. Tears fell down my cheeks as I retched into the kidney-shaped dish they give you and waited for the blessed IV. I’d rather go through labor again. But by the time I left the hospital this second time, I had slept a little and was actually feeling hungry, headache gone – a blessedly pain-free state. Thank you thank you thank you. And now I have the name of a neurologist to call and see, so hopefully they can tell me what to do to prevent this hell again.
They instructed me to stay in a dark room for 12-24 hours and I understood completely. Never having been a fan of light, particularly artificial light, I am happy to just be for a day, to sit in the dark, hope this is really over. I’ve slept and woken to my dog Jack pressed against me – his concerned black-rimmed eyes meeting mine..his occasional lick to my cheek.
I once saw a TV show on Discovery, I think, about people who had such constant, debilitating migraines that they had to take oxygen tanks everywhere they went – that it was the only modicum of relief from the perpetual agony. I remember feeling horrified. I had no idea. I now wonder how they don’t give up. I have a whole new empathy for people who have ever had a migraine.
I have eaten toast and kept down coffee, and tomorrow I’ll see my regular doc and go back to work. I need to do well at work right now, and this didn’t help matters.
And now for Boo…a rocky road lately, Andy and I call him “squirrely” when he is with us and he gets this way; it’s difficult to describe how it begins or even what it is at first – an extra hard and very “slappy” high-five, maybe, with a face that dares you to do something about it.
We don’t know when he’ll be like this – or why – the infernal why – at school he’s had managements this week, both in class and at his house, grabbing at glasses, flipping out – impatient and angry. Last Saturday we went to the grocery store – Andy and he and I – me walking along, proudly filming a documentary of my son negotiating his cart quite nicely. It’s really kind of boring for most of its 5 minutes, I suppose, but he falls apart toward the end – and when Andy asks me quite patiently to turn off the camera and help him, you can see why the video abruptly stops.
It’s all okay, though. I know we can get through this, I know we can do this. And, as always there is such joy in my Boo.
…and I, today, bathe in gratitude, of course mostly from relief-of-pain but also for all the people who have cared and helped and loved me through these two-year two days, and for Boo’s journey, wherever it may take us — because it is always silver-lined with joy.