The best laid plans. . . .
Fall to pieces when sideswiped by an unwanted and unexpected migraine.
Sunday was just a shit show from start to finish.
But not until after Quaker meeting.
At least I was allowed to have that.
But as soon as the fifteen of us were finished silent worship, the tell tale spots in my right eye appeared.
Internally, I was muttering curses that were in no way appropriate for a Sunday morning, especially after just completing a worship meeting.
Externally, I was fine.
Coffee and muffins and conversation abounded until I could no longer ignore the increasing pounding in my head and had to grab Stephen requesting that we head for home.
Where I promptly headed for the bathroom, to the Tylenol with codeine, and then the comfort of my darkened bedroom, complete with canine sidekick Frankie and his unconditional love and support.
But not before doing a check in with Keith and Em.
Because not even a migraine can keep me from ensuring that what needs to be done on a we're-not-working-Sunday will be done.
Keith: remember that the grass needs to be cut today. All of it. During the same session.
Em: time to begin the more intense preparations for the moving in of Mer. Cull the stuffed toys, furniture and anything deemed not being used or needed for the time she'll be your roommate.
The end goal: ripping up the carpet in that room.
Which should have been done a long time ago.
Stephen is more than capable of finding things to occupy his time, so I didn't think there was anything I needed do on that front.
Except ask him to call my Mum and tell her that I wasn't able to take her out for our planned walk and coffee time.
That made me cry, which did nothing but exacerbate the pain, but I had to release my frustrations and anger somehow.
And taking my pain addled head off to toss to the side in hopes that another pain free head with better hair would magically appear didn't seem to be a viable option.
The time I spent in bed, head under the covers in an effort to make the room even darker were not necessarily poorly spent.
I did come up with, I think, a reason for the reintroduction of the migraine headache to my life's adventures.
Wracking my pain filled brain for reasons, I started with the obvious.
What did I eat yesterday that was not part of my normal eating routine?
Followed by expanding the parameters to include our week at Murray Corner, where they made their initial reappearance.
There were several things, while we vacationed, that I did partake of that normally would never pass through my lips.
But only ONE of things was consumed by me Saturday evening while I spent some time hanging out on Em's bed, catching up with her over a bag of. . . .
Swedish berries.
Maynard's Swedish Berries to be exact.
Using my deductive powers, it was clear this was the culprit.
Something in the making of this delicious, soft chewy candy doesn't agree with me at all, and results in migraines that seriously impede my ability to do the things I do.
And no candy is worth that much pain.
Plus I shouldn't be eating them in the first place.
Although I did get that tingle in my tummy when I hit upon the reason for my recent malady.
Small reward for hours worth of pain.
But I'll take what I can get.
Knowing the cause of my misery didn't eliminate the need to spend the afternoon wrapped in the pain that only comes from migraines.
Frankie abandoned me at some point, perhaps thinking Stephen had something better on tap.
Wretched turncoat.
Around four I dared to open my eyes and assess if the pain was still present and accounted for, or, fingers crossed, the Tylenol and nap had pushed it away, with a promise never to return.
Pain free at that moment.
But a bit woozy and nauseous.
Still. . .I'll take whatever I can get.
Feeling less pain and a lot of guilt for blowing off a gorgeous Sunday afternoon with Mum, I set out to make things right in my little universe.
Beginning with salad preparations for dinner, sandwich making for Monday's lunches, cleaning the turkey rack of any useable meat before boiling it for soup, taking Mer to work, stopping at Victory for baby carrots and soy milk because Stephen didn't know we needed either when he and Keith headed to the Superstore while I was wrapped in pain.
Stephen made spaghetti for dinner, having purchased an illegal garlic bread during his jaunt at the Superstore.
He knows Monday is SFL day, so I can only think that his need for carb laden white bread complete with a fake garlic butter topping trumped anything related to weight loss and calorie reduction.
Plus it was 50% off.
That was his defence. The glaring neon pink 50% off sticker.
After I washed the dishes and started the dishwasher I joined Stephen and the whiny twins for a walk at the experimental farm.
Foolishly thinking that since I had managed all of the above, I could claim migraine free status.
Foolish indeed.
We had no sooner put the car in park, stopped the engine and opened our doors that the tell tale spots appeared again.
Stephen asked if I wanted to go back home.
As if that was a possibility with two sets of doe eyes staring at me, knowing full well that there chance for running and frolicking lay at my feet.
That I could be the one thing standing between them and an hour of leg stretching, lung filling freedom.
I do have a heart.
And I knew what would happen if we returned home sans walk.
Which would ultimately be much, much worse than a migraine headache.
Onward, onward we went into the deep field and gentle breezes.
Me trying not to trip over rocks because seeing out of one eye only is somewhat challenging for those of us who already have difficulties staying upright when all of our systems are functioning the way they should be.
By the time we arrived home I was in a full blown migraine episode, again.
And this time I took all sorts of things that would take away pain and bring forth sleep.
But it was a restless sleep, punctuated with frequent waking up and wondering if I should take more things to help me sleep and then remembering that I needed to be awake before sometime next week.
By 5.30 am I was awake.
Stephen snoring beside me.
Dogs dancing the full bladder dance.
Me with just the faintest trace of pain in the right side of my head.
Nowhere near enough to slow me down.
Things to do today.
Places to go.
Movies to see with the kids tonight while Stephen roadtrips to Moncton.
No time for naps.
Fingers crossed my head agrees.
Title Lyric: Headaches by Sherman Allen
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