How was your morning?


I dreamt of a towel brushing against the rusty old pot, an irritation.  I was annoyed.  I woke irritated again, but not knowing why.  Thirsty, but unable to get to water.  My head was hurting yet again. It was still dark, no energy to get up to deal with it.  The Valium that I took last night didn’t seem to do the job that it was meant to do, to kill this mammoth migraine. 
I lay for what seemed like an eternity, trying to will the pain away, or to will the relief to come to me.  Neither happened, no aid would come my way.  I peeled myself off the pillow gingerly and pushed 2 Panadiene Forte out of the packet, not the best choice, but the closest, and threw them down my throat.  At this rate, I would be stuck in the codeine rebound for even longer.  Another 20 minutes and I could visual the pain so clearly that if I was a surgeon I would just get my knife and cut it out.  I knew that I needed to get the real medication, my Zomig and Voltarin, and my sniff stick, the Vicks Inhaler, but this meant walking out of the bedroom, and to the back room, every step a vibration through the brain.  One vibration a little closer to relief, all of those extra vibrations adding up to heightened pain, to then hopefully lessened pain. 
I moved as gently as I could with my cup to fill it up again, squinting as I walked out due to poor vision, no glasses on, and the glare of the sun beginning to lighten the sky with a pink tinge.  Back in the safety of bed, I pulled out the precious tablets and swallowed, then burrowed back under the doona with sniff stick providing relief in form of distraction to the senses.
The pain of the pillows, the pain of breathing, the irritation of myself.  I knew that eventually this will go, but I must wait it out.  I just have to think of a time past here, past this moment of intense pain, where I cannot bear my husband to brush me with his toes, or for him to pull the doona.  I cannot bear the sound of the children running up the hall, which I knew they would do in about 10 minutes, then, I heard one of them stirring. 
I consciously dropped my jaw to try to relax all of the muscles around my head; let the balls of muscles slow down. 
Why do they have to stomp so loudly?
Why is my pillow so uncomfortable?
Time. 
Wait.
I wanted a coffee.  I knew it will help.  I know that some people say not to, but I know that a coffee does help when it is this bad.  I just needed someone to make it for me.  I just wished I could put up a flag so that they knew when I needed it.
Bang, thump, the next one was up.  I lay as still as church mouse hoping not to be noticed.  He came in and climbed into bed on my husband’s side.  The bed bounced and jiggled.  I stayed still. 
The first one up was now wearing my heels that I had left out the back, clip cloppeting around on the tiles and into our room.  My husband growled at him.  I murmured something, I am not sure what.  I wanted coffee.  I murmured, “Can you please make coffee?”  He was gone.
“What did you say?” My husband.
“I’ve got a stinker.” I replied.  There was an audible sigh.  He has lived with these as long as he has known me.  I guess they are tiring for him.
“What do you need?”
“I’ve taken everything.  I was just asking John if he could put on the coffee.”
“Don’t worry, I’m getting up.”  He threw off the doona, leaving myself and our youngest there.  I nearly had the bed to myself.  A silent bed.  My youngest stroked my head under the doona.  A lovely touch from a small soft hand; a feeling of relief, then he too was gone.  I crashed.
Coffee appeared silently, then English muffin with “Try something different”.  The pain had changed.  Moved from left to right, not as intense, bearable now.  I could communicate now.  I could sit, talk, and even get dressed.
I sat in bed for a little longer listening to the stress that I had put on the family as they pinged off each other.  My pain had become their stress.  We are not islands when we are in families, we all belong to each other.  Whatever happens to one, affects another.  Time to get dressed and help out until they all leave for school and work.

2 comments:

  1. lovely descriptive piece of things difficult to see and understand. making something beautiful out of something horrible

    ReplyDelete
  2. thank you Becca,it is something so tangible to me, but I understand that to others, they cannot see what I am in. One day I would love to paint it...somehow, until then, I write it! xx

    ReplyDelete

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.