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Egregious Days

You know, you always read this and that about people setting the wrong expectations.

You get your hopes up way too high when it comes to a new treatment or a new opportunity.

You find a new job and everything seemed so perfect. Until all of a sudden you’re met with the “hey you’re no longer a newbie so you get to see what all of this is actually like” and then your coworkers stop wanting to be nice. Your boss isn’t as invested. You see right through the shiny lights and soft fabrics and realize, yes this is a great job, but I’ll never fully enjoy it because I set the bar too high.

Then there’s the other end. You expect the worst. And the worst is what you shall receive… hypothetically.

I mean, they say if you walk into a new treatment expecting it not to work, it won’t work. It’s the reason placebos show promising results in some cases, because people just know it’ll work.

But, in all these trials and in all these various methods, not once did anyone actually look me in the eyes and ask me what is was that I wanted out of this.

This morning, it hit me.

Like an affirmation slapping me across the face. There it was.

I don’t want to spend any more days and nights like I did the last 36 hours.

I tried to enjoy the Packer game, but with each elongated minute, I desperately wanted the game to end so I could lay my head down. 

I tossed and I turned and I did everything I could to apply pressure that would relieve pressure somewhere else so I could just fall asleep.

I went to bed with a throbbing 8. 

I woke up at a 9. The sweet relief from Saturday morning was now a distant memory. And all I could think about was how much I would love to just spend the day building a jigsaw puzzle. 

But, I woke up and it was almost 11AM. I scrambled to get some food in my system, drank maybe half a cup of coffee and gave in. 

This beautiful Monday wouldn’t be spent on the couch. No the couch wasn’t an option. This day, would be a day I would just crawl back in bed and pray that this pain would break or that I’d just be able to fall back asleep. 

Nothing. Ice packs didn’t work. Hypnosis style meditation didn’t work. Essential oils didn’t work. 

It was a strange day. I wasn’t nauseous. There was no vertigo. All those other symptoms weren’t around. Just the pain. And god if a light came anywhere near me, that pain skyrocketed. 

By dinner, the nausea set in. I gave up and went to bed. I laid there, now having been elevated to a 10 for a few hours. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t roll over. Getting up to pee was hell because the already stabbing pain would stop me further in my tracks. 

I gave in. I didn’t reach for my migraine meds. Those don’t work when the pain is this high. Sometimes I opt for 800 mg ibuprofen. Sometimes its hydrocodone. Last night, ibuprofen was the winner. 

By 10PM, I could feel it start to break. 

I took my medication too close together. Normally I wait around 4 days, this was 3. I also didn’t take migraine medication. You may think, oh it’s just an ibuprofen, but I’ve chugged 2 gatorades and now I’m sipping on an iced chai… I’m still so dehydrated I’m practically gasping for air.

About an hour or so ago I felt the rebound headache start.

Some days, I think that if I could just get all these other symptoms under control, I could go back and live a somewhat normal life. But the truth is, those symptoms are 10x better than that pain.

And recovering from a bad migraine is easier than recovering while also weaning off a strong drug.

So, now I have my answer.

I don’t want my migraines to go away. That isn’t realistic.

I want to not have multiple days each month where my pain is at a 9 or 10.

I don’t ever want to have to reach for such strong pain medicines just to cut the pain.

I want to be able to feel hydrated. Every day.

I really don’t think that’s too much to ask for.

Normally, I consider a “bad day” the days where I don’t leave my couch and struggle to interact with the world. So, I don’t know what we’d call yesterday. Egregious is the best I can come up with.

So, now I’m off to make my own bullet journal and pretend that something like that will make any sort of real difference, other than being aesthetically pleasing.

A.

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