Thursday, August 19, 2010

Migraines are a pain in places other than the head...

This morning I was awoken by the work cell phone. Prior to 6:00 am.

Opening one eye, I was immediately blinded, nauseated and pissed off by a stabbing migraine. I rolled over, and wanted to stab my eyes, brain and connective tissue with a rusty barbecue fork. I resisted the urge, barely, and began my evil day.

See, yesterday I got slammed. St. Timothy of the Rusty Bottle Opener had called me at work to let me know the electricity has been shut off. Again. I'm sure it had put quite a kink in the luxurious life we live at Chez Dog Hair. It was too late in the day and I was in between leaving one job and going to the next, and so it remained off all last night. And today. Payday is in two weeks, so I am questioning our ability to rough it frontier-style until then. This unfairly imposed embargo against my getting my morning caffeine will probably chauffeur me the short distance to certifiably insane.
Some other work stuff also happened, and it was one of those days - wait, every day is one of those days! - where every phone call was a drama/catastrophe/tragedy just waiting with its breath held to sink its malodorous claws into me to save the day. Unfortunately, I left my superhero cape in my other life closet.

So dragging one well-heeled and bitter foot into today, I have the migraine. I would refer to it as The Visitor From Hell, but others would get confused and think I was talking about a menstrual event or worse, one of my relatives.

The good news is that I don't have migraines as often as I used to. The bad news is, when I do,they kick my ass.

So today I am at the office, my evil throbbing head-goblin in tow. I've got stacks of things to read, type, calls to make, and other silly things. And the head-goblin is cackling mightily. "What a dumbass," it chortles. "Like we are here to work!" it scoffs.

So the lesson for today, my dear readers, is not to take anything for granted. Pain-free days. Electricity. Snacks. None of it.

Even sanity. Oh wait, did I say sanity?

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Growing Older Disgracefully

A couple of weeks ago I scraped together the funds and decided to break in my Starbucks health insurance and went to see a local doctor for some minor complaints. Complaints like shooting pains in my feet after working only an hour, and the excruciating pain shooting through my hands, wrists, arms and sometimes shoulders after typing, writing or making lattes for more than a few minutes. I was sure he would tell me I had some exotic malady, and prescribe a miracle drug that would make me pain-free (and sexy). However, I was to be disappointed.

"You know, you are not young anymore."

Wow, what a diagnosis. Notyoungitis? Aged decrepititude? This is a disease I am not quite prepared to embrace, basically because the cure kind of sucks.

Hobble with me through time to last Friday. I, enamored with the heady pleasure that is health (and vision! swoon!) insurance, decided to treat my myopic peepers to a vision exam for new glasses. The optometrist performed the vision field exam twice before throwing in the towel. When I asked him what could be the culprit, he discovered lesions on my retina. The bright side, he says, is that I am not so old I need bifocals! Fabulous. My heart rejoices.

So my body is ancient, while my eyes are merely aged?

These events have caused me to do further consideration of my life. At this late age of creeping up on forty-one, I planned on having accomplished an entirely different set of goals. I did not plan on having my life's events randomly caused by others. I did not plan to be a professional reactor to people who have no idea how to react.

So it is with every bit of resolve I have not to quit all my jobs and run. Somewhere, anywhere.
Not to abandon responsibility and start living. My own life.
Not to chuck it and spend my remaining days being a drain on the system, fate, and others' nerves.

My task at this point is try to carve out a little serenity, calm, happiness even, when there's not much left to carve from.

Getting my life back might be so grand as to overwhelm me.