Saturday, August 22, 2009

Headache Leaves, Mind Degaussed

I have frequent headaches and by frequent I mean most days, most of the time on those days. When surveys ask "how many days in the last three months did you have a headache?" I think it would be easier for me to remember the days I didn't. This isn't to say that I have horrible headaches every day. I don't. I have a spectrum of headaches that range from "almost didn't notice it" to "can I drill a hole in my forehead now?" I probably only have one day in ten when my head has zero pain.

I've seen doctors who have prescribed drugs and treatments and most include the instruction to lie down in a dark room. Lots of things are better when you can lie down in a dark room, so I didn't really need the drugs. Frankly, if I have time to lie down, I will take some Tylenol and a Benadryl and hit the hay. An hour or so later, most except the worst of migraines will be gone. The issues is more that I don't have time to lie down in a dark room, or a dark room, or time, so I need something that smacks down the headache without all that lying about. None of the drugs suggested have few enough side affects and work well enough to bother with.

This morning I woke with a fairly miserable headache. Not the worst, but not mild either. Sick pain, nausea, extreme irritability. Extreme. I could have gone all Ozzy and bitten the heads of something given the chance and if those somethings were in my way. A venti iced latte, Egg McMuffin, and some quiet non-lying down time got the pain down to something manageable. At one point, I felt pain free, but that only lasted for a short time and now I have one of these "I know you are there, bastard headache, but I can handle you" types.

But the worst part (ok, the worst part is the pain) or other worst parts is the post-pain emptiness. Once the meds or caffeine or protein or dark room lying down does its trick, I'm left with not only a cessation of pain, but a cessation of thought. Like one of those buzzing degaussers was held to my head and, instead of magnetic particles flying away, all my initiative and thoughts have left me.

I have loads of angry little things on my to-do list. I'm having a hard time feeling the urgency that should be there because with the end of the worst of my pain, came a blankness that is a little post shock therapy-like. I feel dull, adrift and pointless.

I'm not asking for the pain to come back, but I'm waiting for whatever external, or perhaps, internal impetus puts me back on my path of grousing about health care reform, finishing volunteer work, shoveling clutter and taking care of my family. Right now, I feel like I'm waiting for a bus to go somewhere I've forgotten.

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