December 6, 2010
SNOW DAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
For one day, I am spared the trauma, both physical and emotional, of trying desperately to remove Emily from the warm snuggieness of her bed.
The complaints, grunts, moans, whining and whinging will not rear their ugly heads this morning.
Repeating the refrains, "I don't want to get up! I don't want to go to school! How come I have to go????" can take a break today.
Stephen's musings aloud, albeit while still almost completely asleep, why I am leaving him and the nice warm bed can restrain themselves for one morning.
And Frankie and Tikka won't give me their sad, pity-us faces when I confine them in our bedroom with Stephen while I make my escape.
All in all, a good way to start the day.
In fact, if it snowed all week, that would be fine with me.
I have enough work here for me and a small army of super intelligent elves who I bribe with unlimited honey to edit the book and help me mark papers.
And Em will make cookies.
Yes she will.
Because I need them made for tomorrow and I don't have time to do it.
What other possible reason is there for having children if you can't force them to make cookies and shovel the driveway.
Last evening, shortly after posting my blog and while in the midst of more of the infernal, never ending editing, I experienced something that I haven't had to deal with in a long time.
A very long time.
The early warning signs of an impending migraine.
Once upon a time, when I was in middle school, I noticed that every once in a while, the vision in my right eye would disappear and be replaced with the equivalent to snow on a tv screen.
And in those early, unaware, uneducated days of my youth, I happily ignored this sign, thinking it was just something that would go away.
Until the vision in my left eye would leave for sunnier climes, leaving me unable to walk, or operate heavy machinery.
Shortly after experiencing temporary blindness, I would be visited by a pain so intense that lying on my bed in a dark room, not moving at all except for breathing and the occasional blink of my eyes was about all I could manage.
Eating or drinking?
Not unless I wanted to blindly stumble to the bathroom for some worshipping of the porcelain gods.
Childbirth, tattooes, living with Meredyth, none of them even held a candle to this pain.
Not even a distant flicker.
In bed I would lay, wishing for death, not knowing how long, this time, it would take for the pain to disappear.
Inevitably, if my migraines occured during a weekday, it was always after I got off the school bus, meaning I had to call one of my parents to come and retreive me.
Cat scans, MRIs in St. John, special medications. . .my doctor could find no reason for the painful parade of rapidly opening and closing blood vessels, constricting just for shits and giggles.
After high school, they petered off, and would visit only once in a blue moon.
The last serious bout was when I had made the decision to leave Keith and experienced a week long of cluster migraines while trying to pack and look after two small children.
THAT is an experience I have actively blocked from my consciousness.
So imagine my surprise when, last evening, sitting in front of my computer, as I had been for the past 48 hours, I realized that the vision in my right eye was being replaced by the snow from the tv screen.
Immediately, I inhaled acetominaphen with codeine, shut down my computer and went to bed.
At 5.30 pm.
And stayed there until 7.00 am.
Stephen's directives were to keep all bright lights away from me, so no flinging the lights on at 2.00 am when searching for his pjs.
No loud noises.
No quick, unexpected movements.
Just quiet and dark.
He did pretty well, but there was some light when he wanted to read.
The nerve.
Right now, the sharp, agonizing, DEFCON 5 pains have been downgraded to a 1, so I should be able to function reasonably well today.
Should being the operative word.
Hope is more like it.
Em theorized that this horrific event of catastrophic proportions is the result of stressing about work.
She may be right.
All I know is that nothing strikes fear and panic into my beating heart faster than an early warning migraine sign.
Nothing.
At all.
Migraine recovering snow day.
Whodathunkit?
A day to go back to bed, get up, continue working, exploit the kid's labour, watch Stephen and Keith shovel the driveway while Goblet attempts to escape from the house and Tikka and Frankie whine at the windows because they feel left out.
Or, Environment Canada got it wrong, and everything was cancelled for nothing.
Doesn't matter though, cause once something is cancelled, you can't uncancel it.
And Em, the Queen of Early Morning Misery is, right now, awake, on the floor loving Frankie and Tikka.
Singing, "Singing in the Rain."
How come?
Because she can.
Because getting up was the result of wanting not needing.
Miserable little wretch.
Title Lyric: Singing in the Rain by Gene Kelly
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