Hence migraine

I am at home, again, today. I woke up feeling bizarrely cranky and unfocused, and monosyllabic, which anyone who has met me (or, hey, has read this blog) will tell you is uncharacteristic. Clumsily, I staggered off to the station, thinking ‘bloody hell, the sunlight is bright this morning. Really bright. This can’t be normal for October’.

Yes, well, you’re all sharper than me, so you won’t be surprised to hear that the next thing to happen was a scintillating scotoma eating the woman next to me’s head.

So I went home again, got H to ring work for me (bless the man) and put my head under the pillows for a few hours.

Bugger migraines. Bugger them to hell.

H, being ‘wise after the fact’, pointed out it’s 1) that time of the month for me, 2) I’ve been sleeping badly and 3) I’ve been stressed which = migraine. To which all I could groan was ‘you could’ve said’, to which he hinted I could’ve said, as I was the one behaving like an aphasic cassowary this morning, to which I implied that being an aphasic cassowary, I wasn’t in the best condition to judge my own state of neurological activity, at which point H wisely kissed my eyebrow and crept off to work.

Yesterday was International Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. H was, well, I shall say out at his club, because it amuses me to do so, though no doubt he will give me the stink-eye when he reads this (he was at rehearsal. He’s proper talented, you know). So I said I’d be home by 7pm to light a candle, or several, to commemorate our poor little sods of embryos and your losses too, Gentle Readers. And H said he’d text me at 7 to let me know he was thinking appropriate thoughts. So that was the plan.

I admit I was feeling sulky about it. Not because H wouldn’t be there, but because I have been lighting candles for years now and I am very very sick of this twilight, bruised existance as neither mother nor not-mother. I currently am in a Denial Place about it all. I don’t want to think about it very often and I certainly don’t want to dwell on how much it hurts. I don’t want to be Infertile anymore and I don’t want to be bound on this wheel of torment anymore. So, no, I was not being pleased about the idea of lighting candles and focusing on loss and grief. I was going to do it anyway, out of solidarity, and because being in The Denial Place is just one of those places you wander in and out of for the rest of your life when a Bad Sad Thing happens, along with the Acceptance Place, the Raging Place, the Shan’t Get Out of Bed Place, the Reasonably Happy Place, and the Place of Lamentations (I doubt I’ll be here for very long, and I’m spending longer and longer in Acceptance and Reasonably Happy, fash not yerselves), and I didn’t want to face me in a few weeks time when I am visiting Rage or Lamentations, shrieking ‘and you didn’t even light a candle on the 15th and throwing plates. So I noted the location of the matches before I left for work.

Work, however, had a sneaky bastard trick to play. A couple of colleagues didn’t turn up, so I cheerfully (oh, hey, I wasn’t in a hurry) volunteered to hang on for another ten minutes so as not to leave my other colleagues in the total screaming chaos lurch. The manager who was supposed to be finding out what had happened to the next shift, didn’t. The other manager simply sodded off home without waiting to see if their staff had turned up. I ended up staying on an extra 40 minutes, hot and flustered. When H texted me something sweet and moving about Pikaia and our other benighted embryos, I was still on a (very packed, slow-moving) train. I felt angst. Much angst, with added pissed off.

So in the end I lit our candles at about 7:30. Then I ate cheese and rice-cakes. Then I blew the candles back out, went to the cinema on my own, and watched Looper (which wasn’t half bad, or, at least, Jeff Bridges wasn’t half bad, and the plot was fascinating, and Bruce Willis, as ever, was about as interesting to watch as a lump of silly putty, but, like silly putty, can be squashed into the correct shape for purpose and isn’t actually offensive or irritating).

And I had bad dreams.


14 responses to “Hence migraine

  • a

    If I were capable of feeling guilty for things (aside from actual wrongs committed – I do have a conscience, after all), then I would simply be a giant, steaming pile of guilt because I always forget that it’s October 15. When I remember that it’s October 15, and I’m supposed to be doing something, I forget when it’s 7:00. I am not good at assigning a particular day to mourning, apparently. Or I’m thoroughly cold-hearted. My husband always chooses the second one.

    Sorry to hear you have a migraine, and bad dreams…but I’m shocked that anyone could be anything other than cranky and monosyllabic in the morning.

  • QoB

    Looper *is* worth a watch. I’ve had a pleasant hour or two discussing the intricacies of the plot, which usually descends into mutterings, counting on fingers, and trying to diagram timelines in our heads….
    Although, if the art team went to such lengths on Joseph Gordon Levitt’s prosthetics, why on *earth* did they not do the earlobes as well??!? (a person’s earlobes do not change from attached to unattached. I’m just saying).

    (sorry to hear about All the Things.)

    • May

      Oh my word, I thought it was just me! I spent 10 whole minutes bitching to H last night about the NON-MATCHING EARS. All that care over the nose and upper lip and contacts and nicking the TOP of the ear and the whole rest of the ear NOT-MATCHY. Surely everyone knows ears are nearly as unique as fingerprints? Surely? GAH.

      • QoB

        aHA!:) and there is that whole scene where we’re practically invited to look at their ears, and yet… would an extra bit of silicone have killed you, makeup artists, really??

        Why studios have not hired us to do their continuity already, I do not know.

  • Valery Valentina

    Thank you so much for being aware. I had no idea. (and yestedrday I went to rehearsal as well, huffing and puffing with my bassoon) I’ve lit a candle now, even though I’m 25 timezones late, just like after an earthquake, I’m like an afterwave of the wave of light

    boo for migraines and bad dreams. I want to say sweet and sensitive and empathic things, but my brain is stuck on the fact that ‘losses’ is plural.

    wise eyebrow kissing is in order, as are hugs and chocolate kisses.

  • Jo.

    Yes. Yes to so much of this, but in particular the not wanting to be infertile. And all those places you visit? I am there, too. It’s really too bad we can’t seem to sit down for coffee, and instead have to satisfy ourselves with a wave and a curt nod. I do think you are fabulous, even when you’re traveling abroad. Much love. Jo

  • jjiraffe

    “Wheel of Torment”: yep. Exactly.

    Sorry about the migraine. (Do you pronounce it Mee-graine? That always threw me when I was living in London: I was used to my-graine.) I get them too, and they are horrid. There was a medication at Boots that worked for me…it was called something completely unoriginal like Boots Migraine Pain Relief or some such thing. It was a wonder drug. I wish I still had a bottle for when I get them now.

  • Twangy

    Yes, me too. I am slowly recognising the value of the Place of Denial while the Place of Acceptance is not accessible as of yet, and that the reality is that they are there to be visited and revisited. I get it now, well done for saying it with De Wurds. We read to know we are not alone.

    Thanks for remembering the 15th too. It went out of my sieve-like.

    Fecking migraines. Much much sympathy.

  • bionicbrooklynite

    I thought of you, and didn’t manage to write, in part because I can’t believe either that it’s been another year. Much love.

  • Korechronicles

    The migraine has been messing with my head as well. And that’s without the added stresses you are continuing to endure. Wish they would just bugger off and stay there.

    Sorry to hear the bad news about your SIL. I did leave a comment but WP…well, lets just say it’s playing a one woman exclusion game and I am thoroughly over it. Wishing you all strength for the trials to come.

    • Hairy Farmer Family

      WordPress AND what appears to be a shittily-installed Internet Explorer (misnomer, currently) have made me SO ANGRY that I thought I might actually have a stroke.

      Today, it recognises me. Tomorrow, it may not. Glad to know I am not alone.

      And, as always, I am wincing in sympathy. Because some days there seems no bottom to the bucket of turds. I would very much like you to be on the receiving end of a different bucket, really quite soon.

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