Headache Update

It's done. Really done. That headache is gone baby gone.

Isn't that nice news? I have some follow-up work to do, like why do I get migraines in the first place, what causes them?

But here's how it got finished. After Mom got in, we decided to go back to the hospital. Ever since my sister (which is fragmented shorthand for "ever since my sister got brain cancer and passed away at 33, the age I am now"), my mom and dad and I are all really weirded out by head pain.

So we went back to the hospital and as a 33-year old woman, I took my mom. You might be thinking that it's sweet, that we're so close , and you wouldn't be wrong. But that isn't the reason I took her.

1. She was my baby blanket.

2. She could keep track of everything that was said when I was drugged up.

3. My mother, Barbara True-Weber, can make things happen in hospitals that will astound you.

For proof, I give you the following: she made sure I got a CT scan (no small feat), that I got hot blankets from the blanket heater every hour or so, got cookies and drinks, and got information out of the nurses and doctors that they didn't want to give. She's got crack hospital skills.

But rolling into the ER dressed in all-black with black sunglasses and a look on your face that says "dont fuck with me," it makes you feel kinda cool, even when you feel horrible. I suggest you remember that if ever you have to go to the ER.

The great news!? The CT scan showed my head is empty: no tumors, lesions, growths, aneurysms, or other strange things (go ahead and feel free to insert your own joke regarding the emptiness of my brain). The second great news is that the doctor was really determined to break the headache, so I went through several courses of increasingly strong demerol and timoral until I could stand the pain.

A word about pain:

My sister always said her pain was a "4." Finally, after seizures and hospitals and surgeries, someone asked her what a ten was. She totally deadpanned "crucifixion." Mom and Dad and I all looked at each other and were like "if we had known that, maybe we would have taken a four more seriously." My scale is not that radical. I do have a high threshold for pain, but not like that. What's my ten? Hmm. This might sound stupid, but probably when I stub my toe so bad that I think I will throw up. But just that one second. That's a ten. Other than that, it is a hypothetical question: I've never been cut badly, lost a digit, whatever.

What's your ten?

The doctors took the headache from an 8 down to a 3, which I can cheerfully live with. As I keep doing things, stretching out my shoulders and neck and staying hydrated, the pain will keep subsiding.

I'm really so happy about all this.

Today Mom and I are pulling weeds and planting flowers for the party. I love gardening with her. I love doing anything with her.

Ah, I feel like a new woman!