Thursday, December 17, 2009

Neuralgia Bugbear

I am keeping The Empire Strikes Back as background noise while I watch baby B. I think it is important to indoctrinate them young.

The sad arrival, and not so sad diagnosis and treatment, of migraines this week unfortunately coincides with a forty hour week at Starbucks. Coincidence? Possible.

Migraines are something entirely foreign to me. Like, well, like this.

I can feel them coming, lurking in the back of my head, and then they move in, take over my sensory organs and make me want to die.

This is also the week where H and D both work full days every day. We are passing the afore mentioned B around. This fills every spare hour of my life. I did the math and, though not to be trusted coming from me, it looks like I am working (if hanging out with my infant friend can be called working) in and around 63 hours this week. If I were a better person I imagine this would be invigorating.

In the grips of what I imagine to be a pre-migraine headache, I walked B down to the fence to visit the sheep. They were at the watering trough when we set out but, startled by our approach, they moved back. Still, this was the closest I'd ever been. I think they like B. We sat in the grass and I thought bitterly about Texas sticker burrs and fire ants and how nice it is to sit in the grass and try not to worry about all that. B studied the plant life around us. It is amazing to me that we say "grass" and it is supposed to mean the plethora of enthusiastic species in our backyard. B touched and picked up any number of grasses and leaves (and didn't put a single one in his mouth). He then proceeded to try to climb the fence. This child is amazing to me. The Samson of babies. He pulled himself to a standing position, grabbed the third rung and pulled himself up, stepping on the first rung, and hanging there, striving for a higher rung. I had my hand on his back, watching in amazement. As we walked across the lawn B spotted a dandelion in the midst of its death throes. The death of a dandelion. Or its genesis. We need a word that means both. The Aloha of the dandelion.
He loved it. Giant smile and a quest to find them all. We're still working on blowing. He hasn't quite mastered the skill.

Yes, my head hurts. It makes every instant of my life difficult and pricey. I want someone to invent a machine that scans your body and broadcasts your real age. Maybe people would expect less of me if they knew that I was really at least 70.
Yes, I work too much and dislike almost all of it. I am overworked, tired, and poor. All of which make me question the realization of any kind of Biblical rest in my life.
Yes, I am daily adding ailments to my already very long list of ailments, all of which are costing me monetarily as well as physically and mentally and, as I mentioned before I am poor.

But. I have The Empire Strikes Back. I have a very nice, working, washer and dryer. I have several people who love me enough to be angry for me. I have sheep in my backyard. I have the sense to appreciate moments with grasses. I have an infant best friend. And I have the Aloha of dandelions.

3 comments:

Sharon said...

There are several very well written sentences in this post that satisfy the literary part of my soul. Well done. You know, in my mind we are forever part of a writing club... you, me and Heidi. I'm sorry for your migrains, aches, and ailments :(

Reeve said...

I am sorry as well. It makes me sad to hear about.

jess said...

neither of us have time to miss one another nor would we be able to find the time to remedy it if we could find a spare moment of thought to miss one another..

i miss you