Wednesday, June 29, 2011


Monday was a nightmare. As in took me 5 minutes to get 12 feet to the bathroom to pee nightmare. As in all day in bed nightmare. As in stumble out to the kitchen weeping, looking for your husband, who tries to help you by rubbing your pounding head until you go back to the bathroom to lie on the floor, throw up multiple times, and cry. As in take 30 minutes to get anything down your throat (toast? FAIL. Pop Tart? Ok... just take small bites...)

Migraine meds didn't work. They made me dizzy however, and I ran into a few walls, and the toilet etc, and felt drunk (in a bad way) but the headache raged on.

I was really scared for the first time on Monday. I don't even know if hubby knew how scared.

My right arm was tingly/numb (you know, like you hit your funny bone?) off and on all day yesterday. Tried to avoid thinking about what that could mean. Still had the f*cking headache. Made it to work until 2.

So I've had issues with balance. This is an issue, as there are stairs going into every entry in my house. My knees burn and want to give out, I catch myself on the railing if I am lucky, or stumble down the steps if I am unlucky - no total faceplant yet.

The gabapentin that seemed like a MIRACLE is more of a "meh" - I can tell when it's been about 6 hours as the pain comes back hardcore, so it is still working, kinda.

The emotions involved, with knowing I need some sort of "walking stick" (bullshit nice-coated words for CANE) at 34 years old to get up my damn house stairs without killing myself is just mind-numbing. Like, why? I need to get over myself though, the pride issue. So what. (Hence the name of this blog)

And the stupidest thing is I'm worried about how my mother (you know, the one who says my disease is not real?) will react to the cane. I alternately want to hide it from her, or wave it in her face and say "SEE? SEE? I am not a liar! This is real! I am not a hypochondriac!" but the fact that this is even a concern is ridiculous. What is it about that woman that can make me feel 10 years old again?

She's basically my only family left. My 85 year old grandma and some cousins I have rare contact with. It's not just in my head that she's begun to get more negative with me over time, but it just kills that little kid inside me and I don't know what I am supposed to do.

I post a funny cat video on my page, and she lets me know that "the poor thing is suffering with fleas, she can see". Like, just let me frigging laugh! The video was posted by an animal charity, so I doubt the cat was suffering, so whatever. That's just so HER though.

"I'm taking a day off because I don't feel well." Her: "I hope you don't get fired!" (I am on FMLA, so I CAN'T LEGALLY GET FIRED BECAUSE I AM SICK. I explain this to her four times and she still doesn't seem to believe me.

Wow, this got really off track and into a dumping of mommy-issues. Maybe she's right and I do need a shrink. ?

1 comment:

  1. A therapist won't hurt... and could very well HELP! I understand "Mommy issues" as you very well know. Anyone else, you can tell them "fuck off"; not your mother. Sometimes, though, the people's opinions who we think matter - those people whose opinion seems to rule us, before all others - DOESN'T MATTER. You have a medical issue. Your mother, for whatever reason, has some problem with it (maybe a fear that SHE has it, too; that it's hereditary; that SHE gave it to you... that's guilt right there), but her opinions do not matter. Not in this. You need medical help for your medical problems. If she cannot, or will not, be helpful, you cannot deal with it properly. I know you are in a great deal of pain... I wish; severely; that there was something, ANYTHING, I could do to help you. So, this is my form of tough love.