Life Among the Never-Winged

Once upon a time I was writing a book called, "Just Another Love Letter", about angels behaving badly. Now I just quietly ask myself each day, "What the hell am I doing?"

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Location: The Rocky Mountain Empire, United States

My friends always knew I was going to hell. My only hope is that God likes good jokes and bad redheads.

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  • Sunday, August 06, 2006


    The pain had me curled in a ball last Thursday night, an ebb and flow in the abdomen, each wave higher, inevasible.

    I thought it was a bursting cyst, but I’m afraid the endometriosis might be back.

    And today, the sharpening of sounds; my own sons’ voices like rusty nails scraping against the insides of a glass bucket. Music like pounding hammers falling faster. Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata might just as well be a construction site.
    The boyos were being three-going-on-four. Mommy, he hit me! Mommy I want I want I want.
    I couldn’t. Just…couldn’t.
    So I lay down on the couch, the migraine pushing me down, shoving light and noise in my face. I hate doing this, in front of them. I don’t want to scare them. I don’t want them to think it’s their fault.

    Migraines are hereditary. My mom used to get them. I remember being my sons’ age, playing in the family room, when she collapsed in the kitchen. I crept up to her, and in that I’m-three-and-the-center-of-the-universe sort of way, I thought I’d caused her fall, by being too loud. I touched her shoulder, then crept away to my rocking horse, hoping the soft sound would wake her. Afraid the soft sound would wake her.
    She stood up finally, and looked in at me, and I didn’t understand what her look meant, until now.

    My boyos, my sweet boyos. Declan came up to the couch, stroked my hair.
    “Do you have a headache, Mommy?”
    “Yes, I do.”
    “I’ll rub it away.”
    And Jack ran around and around the couch, and I made sure he saw me smile, that he knew he was helping too, in his own way with his antics.
    But the pain. I couldn’t help it.
    “What’s on your cheek, Mommy?”
    “That’s just water, sweetie.”
    They haven’t seen me cry. Not until now.

    I’m so afraid they’ll think it’s their fault.

    Ok. It’s later, and I’ve had four cups of coffee, three aspirin, two Advil and a long hot shower. And a partridge in a pear tree. I feel better.
    Really, it’s the shower that does it. I turn on the hot full-blast, until my sweat mingles with the water. I find that if I can raise my body temperature, I can short-circuit the migraine. But there are side effects.
    Stepping out of the shower, I immediately lose my breakfast. It’s a good sign.

    After that, I feel the headache let go, like a python loosening its grip on a rabbit. I’m left feeling completely drained, despite half a pot of coffee. I sit on the couch, my head back, pillow under my feet, and drift. I want to sleep so badly. I want sleep like Romeo wants Juliet. But there are the boyos, and I’m waiting for a phone call from a friend. We have plans today. Otherwise I would have ridden this thing out.

    And there’s the call.

    10 people left me a love letter:

    Blogger Bud wrote in a love letter...

    I'm so sorry. Migraines are just the worst. I never had one but have been around so many. Your boys are so good to you.

    3:51 PM, August 06, 2006  
    Blogger Schmoopie wrote in a love letter...

    Wow! Sounds like you have the worst kind of migraines. They sound hormonally connected, due to the abdominal pain as well. Sleep is the only true "cure" for them. I am really sorry you have to go through that. We had a great time with you and the boyos yesterday. We are truly lucky to have you in our lives!

    7:31 PM, August 06, 2006  
    Anonymous Anonymous wrote in a love letter...

    Have you tried high doses of pure grain alcohol?


    7:47 PM, August 06, 2006  
    Blogger Nixxie wrote in a love letter...

    I have never had a Migraine and I am very happy I haven't, but I have had a bad headache that made me want to crawl into a dark void. I would never wish that on anyone so I can't even imagine how much a Migraine hurts.

    2:01 AM, August 07, 2006  
    Blogger Popeye wrote in a love letter...

    Damn, that sucks. I hope you're feeling better today.

    4:15 AM, August 07, 2006  
    Anonymous clowncar wrote in a love letter...

    That does not sound like any fun at all. Glad you are feeling better, though.

    Does the sense-shifting thing (e.g. hearing colors, seeing sounds) occur with the pain? Can you see or smell or taste it? There's a big word you've used in the past to describe this, but i don't remember it.

    Half-way through the last season of 6 Feet Under. Nate is such a whiney little girl. What a dick.

    12:10 PM, August 07, 2006  
    Anonymous clowncar wrote in a love letter...


    2:22 PM, August 07, 2006  
    Blogger amusing wrote in a love letter...

    I was going to say "aura"
    The awful thing about migraines is that no one gets it -- no one can understand that ice pick behind your eyes unless they've experienced it themselves. And so leaving work, clutching a bag in case you need to throw up on the train home, they look at you suspiciously, sure you must be faking it.

    Though it does bring out the sweetest little novice caretaking in the young'uns, doesn't it? It breaks my heart to have the Eldest caring for me, and yet it makes me proud of him at the same time.

    (And lordy -- I wish mine had not seen me cry. The good news is -- I've found out that the Eldest barely remembers things from Kindergarten, which is when his father left, so hopefully they don't remember too terribly much of the specifics of that time.)

    Hope you survived your outing. I will have to try the hot shower. Counter to advice, I enjoy the ice pack.

    7:52 PM, August 07, 2006  
    Blogger Lisa wrote in a love letter...

    Oh, I'm so sorry you have those dreadful things! It is good that you have at least a way to control them to some degree--not that it doesn't still ruin an entire day, but at least to know you can shower and puke and begin to feel a bit better, well...that must be some comfort.

    I read 60 more pages of JALL... :)

    9:34 PM, August 07, 2006  
    Blogger Nancy Dancehall wrote in a love letter...

    Bud: Thanks! And thanks for the email. I'm feeling much better today.

    Schmoop: I'm beginning to wonder...but the last one I had was July 27th.
    It was fun, the other night. And now you guys know how it all got started...

    Stucco: No, but I'd take a little more of that wine...

    Nixxie: That sounds like a migraine. Light hurts like lead fire.

    Popeye: I am, thank you.

    Clowncar: Actually the synethsia goes away when I get a migraine. I never knew why until I read a book that said caffeine can dull it. I take in massive amounts of the stuff when I get one. Alcohol enhances synethsia, which is why I couldn't answer you when you asked what I was thinking at RG. I wasn't thinking, I was watching the music.
    And yeah, Nate is the BIGGEST dick.

    Amusing: Ooo! Sisterhood of the Migraine. Sucks, dunnit? Why is it that people think it's 'just a headache?' Yeah, I'm proud of my Boyos too, for their sympathy. It's just not right that THEY should have to take care of ME. I did survive for four hours, before it came back with a vengeance. I'll haeve to try the icepack.

    Lisa: Yay! Where are you in the book? I've got an update for you...

    9:51 PM, August 08, 2006  

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