Wednesday, November 16, 2011

NaBloPoMo #16 - Mr. Migraine

As the mom of three monkey children...I like to think I'm tough.  I can tolerate a pretty good level of physical pain, and it's going to take more than the sniffles to put me on my butt and call in sick to "work" (you know, that thing I do everyday as a stay-at-home-mom)

For whatever reason, when monkey #3 was added to this party, so was the additional party favor known as...

THE MIGRAINE

I don't know why they are showing up now, but I'm fairly certain I know what is causing them, and there's not a single thing I can do about that at this point in my life except to find a way to manage the pain.  My mother-in-law (who has apparently gone to medical school and has a secret life as a physician) tells me it's a caffeine thing...I drink too much Mt. Dew...eat too much chocolate...I need to back off of the caffeine.

It's not a caffeine thing.  I know this because I was at a gap in time that I had absolutely NO chocolate or Mt. Dew in my house...and like clock-work, Mr. Migraine started pounding on my left eyeball.

I had bronchitis last winter.  It kicked my butt.  I quit functioning for two days and when the house started to fall apart along with 4 helpless needy people around me, I decided I was going to have to suck it up (not literally, that's disgusting) and motivate on.  At that point, I realized that getting sick just was not an option for me.  I don't have time to get sick, so don't bother me with it.

However.  When Mr. Migraine rolls into town, there is nothing I would rather do than to be cared for, babied, revert into the fetal position and have my mommy take care of me.  But since my mommy is a gazillion miles away, that doesn't happen.  Oh, I still crawl into the fetal position...and I just close my eyes and pray for the next day and a half to pass as quickly as possible (Yep, they always last for a day and half.  Consistent sonofaguns aren't they?)

Mr. D. hasn't quite figured them out yet.  Oh I'm certain to tell him when they hit, and give him fair warning.  But I'm not sure that he really understands just how bad they are.  I'm not sure that he understands that ALL  amounts of light...just... Hurts.  All sound....Hurts.  Quite honestly, it hurts to exist.   I shuffle through the house closing blinds, shutting off lights, even shielding my eyes from just the natural light that is in our house.  It's dark(ish) and semi-quiet and he'll barge into the kitchen, flip on the ceiling light and begin his ongoing tirade about work, the hours he's putting in, or a story that apparently I need to be told right then and there (at least in his mind) and blah, blah, blah...

("Dear...shut the light off before I put you through that wall.  And that's going to take every bit of energy I have at the moment, so it's really not going to help my current state to do it, but I swear to all that is holy that I will if you don't shut off the light, if you don't shut up right now, and just...go....away.")

Did I mention I become a very ugly person when Mr. Migraine shows up??
(Migraine Chick captured it well here.)

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