I've been busy, I've been happy and accomplishing things and I've felt pretty dang fantastic. The last week or so I've felt a little icky, nothing too bad, but I slowed down, tried to take it easy and ignore the mess, and steel myself against the snarky comments that would be coming my way from my sister because of the mess. I spent time with family, yes, because regardless what happens, I'm not isolating myself again, and I won't be sad and lonely and sitting by myself all the time. Bad enough that I'm sick, I'm not going to be miserable and alone, too. But, I've said no to a few family gatherings, or cut them short to try and conserve energy.
My body, however, decided to remind me that I'm not in charge, that I'm sick, and that sometimes means that life sucks. It started yesterday morning, feeling icky, tired and nearly hungover, which was hugely unfair, considering that I didn't drink and haven't drank in nearly two weeks. Then the vague headache that had been building all day became one of those crippling, shattering headaches, and I had no pain relievers at all in the house....not so much as a single aspirin. I dragged myself to the convenience store because it was that or wait for at least two hours for someone else to be available to get them for me, and by them I'd have been crying on the floor, vomiting. Not my idea of fun, and if it got to that point not only would I be in bed for a week, I'd likely have ended up at the ER because my headaches have a point of no return for ordinary painkillers and once I pass that point the only thing that brings relief is Demerol.
An hour after taking Excedrin Migraine and Motrin (yes, it's safe...they're two different types of medications and I was within safe dosage range) and thankfully, the pain faded. I had acted in time...but not in time to keep the headache from recurring four hours later, which it did...and not with a gradual onset, but with sudden, raging intensity. And so another hour of waiting for the pain to subside. Which meant about two hours of sleep last night. After dropping the munchkin off at school this morning, I came home and went back to bed, hoping against what I knew, which was that I wasn't going to feel better after a few more hours of rest. And I didn't. I woke up nauseated and dizzy and in oh so much pain. I had to cancel a meeting I had, and have the midget's father pick her up from school, which I hate to do because I feel like asking him for help gives him ammunition to use against me, because we have a somewhat contentious relationship, but my sister had to work, the exgirlfriend is out of reach (not that I even seriously considered asking for help from that direction), my cousin is watching her sister's kids due to a family emergency, which sort of left me with no options.
The feelings all this caused...the anger and sadness about being sick, the guilt about not being able to pick up the midget, the fear of what asking the midget's father for help might mean, anxiety about missing my meeting....it nearly sent me into a full-on panic attack, something I distinctly did not need. I made myself relax, tried to accept that I was going to be in bed all day, possibly tomorrow as well, and spent my afternoon reading blogs. I'm still sad and angry and slightly anxious, but also a bit resigned and determined not to fall into that deep, dark hole called depression, and hold onto the fact that yes, today sucks, and tomorrow might as well, but I'll feel better again, I'll be up and around again, and I will make the most of a shitty situation.
Okay, chronic illness...this round goes to you...but I'll be back...