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