Remember yesterday, when all my troubles seemed so far away?
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Oh, that’s original, JOOOOON. How do you do it, HOOOOOON?
Anyway, yesterday I said my antiseizure medication wasn’t JUST working to keep me from thinking of complex phrases like “lawn chair,” it was also keeping migraines at bay.
Then, of course, yesterday I got a migraine.
A vice president at work, a woman I like a lot, had set up a meeting with me yesterday morning because she is too smart. She really is. So when she writes stuff, it sounds all smart and stuff and sometimes she uses my help to dumb it down. So we were in the middle of our meeting, working on her smart-sounding words when
“Goddammit,” I thought. And here’s one trigger I’ve noticed. If I start to concentrate really hard, I get a migraine. I don’t know if you’ve considered this, but my job involves concentrating really hard, you know, most of the day.
Part of what my headache doctor told me is that I may never take another Imitrex ever again. So I haven’t. Nine of those pills are gleaming at me somewhere in this house. I don’t know if they’re in my purse or in the cupboard, because I haven’t touched them in a month. I still got six migraines in the past month. Really, one migraine lasted four days as soon as I took my last Imitrex, so does that count as four or one?
Then I got one after I ate lunch meat. Hey, I was sticking to my damn eat-just-chicken theme the doctor ordered, I just forgot that lunch-meat chicken was verboten. And for good reason, apparently.
Then yesterday I got one again. After thinking. Come on.
I tried to work with it for several hours, but by 2:40 I had to email work to tell them I couldn’t work anymore. Then I took to my bed dramatically. What’s terrible is when I get these during work I not only feel really sick, I feel guilty and then on top of that, scared they’re going to just fire me.
The thing about Edsel — and I know that seems like a jarring segue but I assure you it’s related — is he is a faithful companion. I imagine Tallulah did the same thing but I can’t really remember anymore. But, if Edsel is more than one inch from me it’s notable.
Not long ago, the organized folks at InstaCart sent a loaf of white bread in with my regularly scheduled groceries. Someone else out there is all, “Where is my white bread?” which is the same way I have felt about my Little Debbie Swiss Rolls I ordered as MY ONE CHEAT and did not get. It’s HAUNTED me that I did not get them. My whole order was lettuce and chicken and herbal tea, and the ONE FUN THING I asked for they did not include.
Anyway, because it’s there, that white bread, I have been slowly eating it. I have kept it in the freezer and gotten out one piece at a time for bland toast or what have you. How can you eat white bread once you’ve had bread with sunflower seeds or jalapeno in it?
In this loaf of riveting bread, there are two pieces that have stuck together at different levels and I can’t rip them apart without ruining them and I don’t like white bread anyway, so I said, “You know what? These two pieces will be for Trudy.”
Trudy is the fox in our neighborhood. Any time I have a fruit that’s looking past its prime, or a piece of chicken that’s been in my fridge too long (for me, one day is too long), I throw it over my back fence for Trudy. It’s always gone in a day. Either Trudy eats it or SOMEONE does, but it’s always gone.
So I had those pieces of white bread thawing on the counter the other day while I was in my living room reading my True Story magazine from 1957 when I noted Edsel’s absence. That’s what I mean. If he’s not right next to me I notice it.
“Edsel?” I called, and in he trotted from the kitchen.
That asshole treated himself to some iced white bread. I am sorry, Trudy. She’s probably out there starving half to death right now. if ownleee trudyyy have carb.
Anyway. I took to my bed dramatically. We’re back to my migraine from yesterday now. The above was to demonstrate how I note if Edsel isn’t next to me. Keep up.
I slept on and off all afternoon, getting up to feed everyone dinner and to let Edsel out. His usual routine is to go out after dinner, then he pees again when we play fetch and/or take a walk, then once more before bed.
Once we went to visit my mother, and she let him out every single hour, and both Eds and I were all, What are you doing? Her dog, Gus, drank and peed a lot more than Edsel, and she didn’t understand how Eds was fine peeing every few hours.
So, granted, yesterday was an unusual day, but I was careful to offer him the back yard whenever I hobbled out of bed.
I got up for awhile in the evening and hobbled to the couch and finished my hard-hitting piece My Husband or God: I Had to Choose in that 1957 romance magazine that Faithful Reader Andrea sent (she [the woman in the story, not Andrea] was Methodist and he was Catholic, and SHE CHOSE GOD! I was surprised, because in general in these stories usually the man is right, do whatever you can to save the marriage. But this one was so anti-Catholic. And she divorced him and cut off her Catholic husband from her kids and everything. I was sort of shocked, in an I’m reading a romance magazine from 1957 way).
But I really wasn’t feeling at all well, so I went to bed at 9.
Then I woke up. Because Edsel? Was standing at the back door. His not being at the foot of my bed in HIS bed woke me.
“Edsel! What’s wrong?” I asked, and he whined. It’s not like him to whine.
I let him out and hunched dramatically at the door, and after awhile he came back. My neighborhood is pitch black at night, which is great for seeing stars but not for seeing what your dog is doing in your yard. Just this week the city came and fixed a street light I never realized was broken, on my corner. Not that I’m a prostitute. But one is much less plunged into darkness when one goes outside to one’s car at night now. I think that light might have been out the whole two years I lived here. Still, it makes no difference in my back yard of darkness.
I went to bed and fell asleep immediately, only to wake up who knows how much longer later.
Eds was at the back door again. It’s like he was Credence Clearwater Revival. He was do do do looking out my back door.
And lemme tell you what. He was CCRing
He must have gotten me up four times, at least. I was so sick. And apparently so was he. It was one of the rare times I wish someone else lived here, so I could say, “Will you please let the dog out so he can do whatever it is he’s doing out there and I can sleep?”
Anyway he seems fine today and I have no idea what was ailing him. Really at one point I just wished for his demise so I could rest. I could get my rest, get a puppy later. That was my plan.
But here he still is, and here I still am, and we seem to have muddled through our bad night together and I just realized that
The last time I ate was I think lunch at noon yesterday. So at least it was a diet plan.
And that sums up the state of my stupid head and my annoying dog, who likely ate something I was thawing for Trudy and made his own self sick.