I did not go to work today after all. I woke up with a splitting headache, and on getting up, needed to lie down again with my arm over my eyes, ow the light MY EYES.
I got back up again after half an hour and some painkillers, whinged to H, and went back to bed again. No, wait, must call work and excuse myself. And drink tea. And go back to bed again.
By lunchtime I was wondering if I wasn’t having some kind of mini-migraine, as my eye-sight was blurry and I felt sick and out-of-it. It didn’t get particularly full-on, and eventually wandered off grumbling into the middle distance, where it is now squatting menacingly, kept at bay with ibuprofen and enough tea to waterlog a woolly mammoth.
I feel crappy about missing work, what with work being a bit of an understaffed nest of chaos at the moment.
I feel annoyed with work, though, because *whisper it* some of the chaos needn’t have been incubated in the first place. Ahem. And resentful of all the days I’ve made myself trek in despite pains in my lower abdomen that make me want to cry and bite someone’s leg, because of said understaffing, and come away feeling that I really really need a teeshirt saying ‘look, I feel like shit but I’m here anyway. What’s your excuse?’
(I have lower abdominal pain, some, or slight, or savage, most days from the day before my period is due to a couple of days after I’ve ovulated. Every single month. Over and over again.)
The headache was just, well, OK, fine, Universe, if you want to play it like that, I’m going the fuck back to bed.
If the surgery is a) delayed for more than a couple of weeks, or b) inconclusive and undiagnostic, I rather worry about what I shall do next. Given that I’m in this sort of state of mind now.
I need an answer. Please let there be an answer. Even if that answer is ‘for the love of God, stop trying to get pregnant and get on with your life.’