The bad day.

It started with the fall down the stairs.

This much I know …
The throbbing in my head significantly increased after the tumble. If you have ever had a migraine, you know that every little think can adversely affect you … lights, noise, smells, crying, laughing, reading, cold, heat or even breathing.

So, the day was going to be brutal no matter what, because as I mentioned (too often I am sure) I have had said migraine for well over two weeks – closer to a month.

The brutality of the day was compounded by the fact that I had to drive approximately 300 miles during the day. I knew that wasn’t going to be easy; since I was driving I couldn’t really take any migraine medication per se, I had to settle for Advil Migraine liquid-filled capsules, which sometime help but never ‘cure’ the actual migraine.

I hit the road mid afternoon; one kid in tow – Sweetie Pie was attending a ‘thing’ that evening and I was her chauffer. I would also be meeting up for a brief visit with a person who shall not be named but causes me a lot of heartache.

I made it to my destination, mostly intact but head throbbing with slightly more vigor and a nagging dizzy sensation.

I dropped off Sweetie pie and went to meet with pwsnbn. We had chosen an open, mutually comfortable restaurant. Of course I was in the big city now and the lights, action, and smells were in abundance. I tried to maintain my balance and perception; fending of sensory overload.

If you haven’t ever suffered from a ‘true’ migraine, all of this might sound a little dramatic to you. Let me assure you a full on migraine is dramatic. I haven’t ever taken any hardcore drugs, but from what I understand the aura that one can have during a migraine can be similar to tripping on acid or lsd.

I was just trying to get through the meeting with out vomiting in front of pwsnbn. I managed that; barely.

Upon leaving the restaurant; after picking at the most generic non-smelly sandwich I could find on the menu; I hit the highway headed for home. It was dark.

That’s when the real trouble started. Flashing lights, zigzag patterns, confusion, numbness in my fingers – objects appearing far away and then suddenly too close for comfort. Weird stuff, even for this ‘seasoned’ migraine sufferer. It was like a segment of Alice in Wonderland. Trippy!

And of course, I was driving. Smart!

Of course not … smart that is. I pulled over at some point … where I tossed my cookies in front of many strangers. Not a pretty picture. I was beyond caring though.

I got back on the road. Yep, that’s me – eye on the ball … I needed to get home. The ‘ball’ as it were, was my big king sized bed.

I made it for about another 45 minutes and had to stop again. Repeat former cookie tossing. By this time it was late and I have no doubt that people thought I was more than a little wasted.

I thought I should probably call Mr. Farmer … knowing that there was little he could do … but you know, misery loves company – right?

Mr. Farmer was adequately freaked out. Stuck at home with the remainder of the brood and trying to figure out how to pick up Frannie with out leaving the big rig on the side of the road.

Let me tell you, if I needed any reassurance that Frannie was the family organizer (no matter how bad I am at it), this situation was a clear indicator or Mr. Farmer inability to thrive in a crisis. While he asked me what he should do, I continued to alternate between crying, vomiting and hyperventilating.

Can you imagine what the people around me were thinking? Oh my goodness, I can almost laugh today – but not quite.

So, since Mr. Farmer was no help ... I once again hit the road. Only an hour to go. I could make it – eye on the ball!

I made it. Eventually. More than a few stops, surprisingly I was not stopped by the local patrol. I can’t believe it really. In hind site it was quite foolish. But at the time, I just didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to leave the big rig on the side of the road. I couldn’t coherently figure out who to call so late on a weekend night.

Now, of course, I have a list – posted on the fridge for Mr. Farmer. The ‘who to call if Frannie loses it’ list. Nice huh?

BTW … I still have the migraine. Thus, the lack of posts.