This weekend, I had one of those completely brutal Hurricane Katrina sort of migraines that snuck up on me unexpectedly and beat me all to crap.
I get chronic migraines, but, happily for me, most of these are quite mild by migraine standards and only marginally make me want to kill everyone around me. I have learned to make minor adjustments and work right on through these, since otherwise I'd have to quit my job and turn my kids over to Social Services. Once in a while, though, I get one that stops all the action and sends me to bed in a whimpering, quivering gelatinous heap wishing I was dead. It's not necessarily the head pain that does this, although the pain can be quite bad. A lot of times it's the associated dizziness, general weakness and the random sensations of local pain throughout areas that actually shouldn't hurt that put the nail in my coffin.
Anyway, I remained marginally functional on and off all weekend, with episodes of severe symptoms. Sunday night, though, I knew my goose was cooked. I called in sick for Monday and ended up sleeping til 2 pm, with one minor period of consciousness for "lunch". Today, the worst of it is gone, but I still feel as if cotton had replaced all my gray matter and sharp noises are physically attacking me with needles. I went to work, but felt "half-on" all day, like I was phoning it in. I came home, ate, watched a re-run of Grey's Anatomy and tried to rest, then I ran off to get Mikalh.
It is a little known fact that the worst part of suffering from a condition such as migraines and Fibromyalgia (or, in my case, uncategorizable Fibromyalgia-like symptoms which respond to treatment for Fibromyalgia but aren't Fibromyalgia because if you poke my tender points, I don't scream) is the BOREDOM.
If you are a marginally intelligent person with a very short attention span and next to no tolerance for nothing happening, these kinds of illnesses are very frustrating. I want to do something productive, and I don't have any energy. I want to do something creative, and I have no concentration. Which leaves me with the following options:
1. Check eBay for outfits I can't afford to buy. In order for this to be fun, I have to shop just like I can actually buy this outfit and then, at the last minute, click the window closed and run back to safety. Like playing "This wave can't catch me" only much less fulfilling. My latest interest here is boots.
2. Find something that I don't need to do and talk myself into believing that I DO need to do it. This works with baking muffins, making lists and email correspondence. I could easily prepare raviolis and put them up for lunches, but this doesn't sound like much fun.
3. Use Pinterest to add a bunch of random crap to a pin board that no one looks at but me. I like to find really gritty, offensive things that I find funny and then debate whether to publicly associate myself with this, in case my husband ever has to get a Q-Clearance or any parents at the school I work at are stalking me on the internet.
4. Tidy up. When I am feeling like this, the prospect of actually organizing anything is far too ambitious, so I mainly find myself wiping the same spot on my kitchen counters repeatedly. If I use an already dirty rag, it yields the greatest entertainment, since the item I am using to wipe keeps leaving a streak, that I then have to wipe. And so on.
Anyway, today I have discovered that I can blog about being bored, and that this can be mildly entertaining in its own right. I have managed, in fact, to use up all the time I have before I have to tell Mikalh that he must get into his soccer clothes. That project will then occupy twenty-five solid minutes, as I direct him to go and get them, ask why he is downstairs without them (and is holding two Star wars characters), point out that he needs to put his shin guards and socks on before the cleats go on, ask him where the heck his jersey is, and finally march upstairs myself and retrieve it. Then it will be time to prepare dinner.
Enjoy this inappropriate song by King Missile. Consider it hold music.