As we grow older

As we grow older, things change. Boobs - sag (a little). Butt - droops (a little). Sleep gets interrupted more for small-hour nature calls. More sleep feels like less. And migraines - mutate.

I have suffered from migraines since my mid-teens, and every few years they change form. Once in my late 20s I had a migraine that manifested as a burning sensation down the right side of my head, like someone had poured boiling water in my ear. But generally, I get what I call "icepicks" - sudden sharp pain behind the right temple (always the right side) that stabs into my brain and then (after dosing with Tylenol 1's or in severe cases, Mersyndol), recedes to a manageable throb. Unpleasant, but manageable. Unless I wake up with one, in which case I say "to hell with you", pop 2 Mersyndol, call the office and go back to bed. But generally if they hit during the daytime, I can deal.

Yesterday morning, I had an icepick hit me about 8:00 a.m. (I start work at 7:30, yesterday I was up with the chickens and at my desk at 7:00). I popped a couple T1's and went about my morning. By 10:30 the icepick was sharper, not duller, and I was annoyed (also, I was PO'd about the complete two hours I had just wasted on an AutoCAD file that had to be reversed and redone). Popped another pair of T1's, had a snack, kept working. 1:00 - lunch break. Too tired to go anywhere or do anything (yay codeine), I sat quietly at my desk and knit on my sock for Peter (also for my class, I have to get to the toe decrease by Tuesday night so I can teach toe decreases and Kitchenering). I knit with my eyes closed for awhile, just enjoying the lack of computer glare and the feel of the stitches moving smoothly along.

Opened my eyes. Blink. Fuzzy on the right. What? Wool lint in my eye maybe? Rubbed eyes. Still fuzzy. MORE fuzzy. What the heck...? Huh? Ow. Ow ow ow ow OW! Icepick stabbing from behind the temple THROUGH the front of the fuzzy eye. Oh crud, not good. "Uh, boss... my right eye's gone fuzzy and my head hurts." "Oh, you're getting a migraine." "No, I've had a migraine all morning, this is something else." "No, it's a migraine, that's what happens to me." Note: he's a man and therefore his opinion of migraines is suspect. I know they get them (Dad, for instance, gets the "cluster" form, which are evil), but generally they don't know squat about migraine, in my experience. "Well, I've never had one like this befo - excuse me!" Ran to bathroom, yakked. Oh crap, not at ALL good. Light starting to hurt. Oh Crap. This is what they call a "classic" migraine, the kind my sister and Mom have had in the past. Oh. Crap.

This is me leaving my office (stopping at pharmacy for Mersyndol), and driving VERY carefully home with sunglasses on, squinting and "owie ow"-ing all the way. Home, blinds closed, cold cloth on forehead/eyes, heat pack on back (I'm also freezing at this point, which is a weird thing for a migraine, but whatever). Pop 2 Mersyndol. Lie there, waiting to die or for drugs to work. Drugs not working but feeling sleepy. Eat toast, drink water, go to bed. Peter checks in on me at 8 p.m. - more water and Mersyndol. Finally find real sleep, wake up headache-free but hungover at 6 a.m.

And this is what happens when we get older. Our stinkin' migraines mutate. This particular breed I have decided to call "Fred the Bastard" (if you can name it, you can tame it is my philosophy). Fred and I are going to pay a visit to Dr. B. on Monday and get some of those fast-acting Fred-killers, because I categorically CANNOT just stop in the middle of my workday for a migraine. Nope nope nope. And I certainly can't drive home (again) with one, that's dangerous and painful. [sidenote: Peter was up to his ass, literally, in concrete yesterday so coming to fetch me was not an option, although he would have had I asked. In retrospect, I should have had someone from work drive me home. I won't do it again.]

The upside is, I got pretty well-rested last night. The downside is, I think this is related to weather - I do get headaches from low-pressure systems and we've been having a bunch pass through here lately (like right now, and I can feel another stinkin' icepick forming as I type). My sister, bless her heart, basically rolls into a fetal ball of pain when thunderstorms roll in. I don't want that to happen to me. But it might, because I'm growing older. Dammit.

I need to knit a hat now. That, I can control. In theory.