Around 11am, a headache paid a visit to me. Ever since, it’s been hanging out and being a pest all day. I can’t shake it.
A far cry from the migraines I used to get frequently, this one still managed to wreak havoc in its own way. A busy day kept it at my side, and around the 2pm hour when I was in the office kitchen getting some fruit, it inspired me to grab a cupcake when someone walked in with a fresh box from Sprinkles.
(I don’t even like Sprinkles, so that’s sayin’ something about the degree of pain.)
When I got home, I had a protein-centric dinner, thinking that maybe it would help (since neither the aspirin nor cupcake did). It might’ve, or maybe it didn’t — but an hour ago it seemed to be backing off.
Just when I was easing into the evening, I cracked open a Diet 7-Up and added some diet cranberry juice to it as my non-alcoholic toast to an evening warm enough that it demanded the A/C be turned on. And just like that, the headache came back.
The innocent concoction no longer seemed tasty. I poured it down the drain.
My headband that was holding my hair out of my face now felt like a vice grip.
What’s the deal?
My flowers that I displayed in vases on Easter were finally on their last petal, given the toasty day we had here with nary a window open. Their stems were wilted, and their blooms ranging from crispy to limp and everything in between. I wanted to hit the hay instead of discarding them, but they’d be stinky come tomorrow, so I gathered them up and took them out to the trash.
I realized that, once again, my neighbor had brought my barrels in for me earlier today while I was at work. And the very next second, I realized how pleasant the night air felt on my skin and how clear the stars looked overhead.
I realized that for as exhausted as I was, I hadn’t been up since 3:30am before husband and child awoke, the way someone earlier today said. I admire her endurance. Talk about going the distance. Daily.
I realized that I wasn’t in need of a double-mastectomy the way Giuliana was, as I learned during the first Giuliana & Bill episode I watched this evening (again, I’m often late to the TV viewing party which shouldn’t come as a surprise, given my penchant for reruns of The Golden Girls).
I realized that for as much as I wanted to whack my head against a doorjam before laying it peacefully on a pillow in the hopes of having either Mr. Sandman or the dull ache from said doorjamb take my focus off the headache, it really was only a headache.
My biggest issues today were that I accidentally scarfed a subpar cupcake and that I didn’t get to the dry cleaners in time to pick up my same-day order. Sorta defeats the purpose of having gone the same-day route, but it’s minor.
It’s all minor.
Completely, ridiculously, almost-not-worth-mentioning minor.
In the grand scheme of things, this particular headache takes up about as much time as the blink of an eye. It won’t be remembered next month, next year or likely even in a week. The only way it stands a chance of being remembered is if I happen to re-read tonight’s post.
And when there are so many other things going on across so many levels in the lives of people both in the public eye and off the radar, it’s occasionally astonishing to me that I even allow myself to be affected by them, being that I get them often. Perhaps I should greet them instead of medicating next time, and we can have a little one-on-one chat. I can tell it who’s boss, and that — while I appreciate it coming around again — all it really has to do in the future is appear in a TV commercial or after a festive night of drinking.
Tonight I am thankful for my annoying, long-lasting headache which has tapped me on the shoulder and reminded me what’s important, and what’s not.
It was one of the more painful taps I’ve ever received, but it was welcome. And worth it.