A Monday of Mondays

Today's one of those days where I sit here and ponder why I even made the effort to get out of bed. I'm nauseated. I can't really see straight. I'm not sure if the glaring sun or large amount of potholes did my stomach any good - I'm going to say no because I feel so awful.

But it's midterm week. I can't miss the day that goes over what will be on the exam or the day of the exam, right? I mean I'm sure I could.

But I don't feel like I can.

I got up much too early, and I could barely eat my breakfast. I took the meds I know I'm not supposed to drive on, and hoped that they didn't kick in before I got to campus. They didn't. They still haven't kicked in... neither has my nausea pill.

It's cool today, but inside these halls are stuffy and its hard to breathe. I feel like the air around me is going to swallow me up, but I'm sure my professor and classmates would turn their nose up to having class outside or opening a window.

So here I am. In class. Ready to take on the day.

I'm shaking. But I've got a long list of things to do today, so I'll go back to that idea of hope. I hope I can get through today. I hope my medicine calms my symptoms enough to not be a walking lump. I hope by the time I have to be at work, I know longer feel sick to my stomach.

Frankly, the severe head pain has nothing on all these other symptoms. Is it wrong that I would trade the writhing pain to not have my stomach churning and my heart racing?

Today's a Monday, and I can't wait for this Monday to be over. (Even though its only 8AM)

-A

Comments

I Know I Look Fine

Let's all take a moment to be very honest with ourselves. If we looked the way we felt 99% of the time none of us would look all too great. This isn't something that is specific to my condition. This is something anyone can deal with. Got arthritis? Got a UTI? Getting over a cold? No one is going to proudly display the dark circles under their eyes, and lots of makeup companies have perfected concealer to hide just that. But I'll put up with your looks. Your confused faces. Your attempted sympathetic "well I hope you feel better" as I rush away from work. Why? Because there's no way you can ever SEE the pain and the symptoms I'm experiencing. Sure my pupil is literally taking over the entire blue part of my eye... but hey I'm probably just stoned or something. I don't know how you'd be able to see that my body is saying hey if you don't get into a dark room right now, lay down, and try and consume some food I'm goin...

You See What I Show

You see my hair done. You see my makeup. You see my blemish free skin. You see a healthy glow. You don't recognize the tired, strained look in my eyes, because you've never been exposed to a truly "healthy" version of me. Forgive me for putting on the show. Forgive me for pretending that everything is fine. Forgive me for not looking sick. Forgive my negative outlook. Why? Because you don't get to see what this condition is. You don't see that I haven't slept in days. You don't see the bruises lining my legs because the heat has caused a rash on my skin. I understand that its a hard thing to wrap your head around. I mean I get it. I stood at work with a pain level 9. And as I walked around the store, it felt like someone was pushing from the inside of my skull down onto my eyelids. I had to forcibly hold back tears because the pain was so intense. I'd accidentally wander into an area where the sunlight was bouncing off of s...

It Hurts

To say I feel less than human, is probably a bit of an understatement. But I do. I've been home for a week. I've managed to pretty much lay in bed in agonizing pain the whole time. I had a half-assed attempt to see a friend that resulted in me rushing home as the nausea and aphasia set in. I successfully made it to massage therapy today. Which meant even after sleeping for roughly 2 hours, I got up at 7:30 and sat in traffic for hours to get to a less than expected appointment. Mind you, my previous massage therapist was so wonderful I'm most likely spoiled to other techniques. This lady was late, she sat in the same god awful traffic I did. We spent more time going over the woes of her morning, than we did discussing why I was there and what I hoped to achieve through various massage techniques. The massage room wasn't dimly lit, and even as the massage started, lights were still on. I found this odd, but decided to just keep my eyes closed. Then she started ...

My Life. My Migraine.

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