Headaches

Headaches


An Emergency Call
Wide awake at 3 am. (Insomnia. It’s back and this time it’s not kidding.)

I thought I should have a short, insightful, boring, and one-sided discussion about headaches since there isn’t much else I can accomplish this time of day (night?) without the neighbors calling the police with the following scenario:

Vietnamese Neighbor: Hello? Hello? 911?

911: Not you again.

VN: It’s my neighbor again.

911: Not her again.

VN: yep. She’s out there weeding in the dark. At 3 am for crying out loud.

911: Not that again.

VN: She's talking to herself and shrieking obscenities.

911: (sighs) Okay, we’ll send someone over.

VN: Achinowaka! Hyngkow!

911: What now?

VN: She just cut down my Maple Tree!

911: (sigh) Everyone is complaining about your Maple tree . . .

VN: It has been in the family for two centuries! Hoongi-muhluh! Hunca-Munca!

911: Two centuries. . . Okay, you’re lying now. That last phrase is straight out of a Beatrix Potter book.

Because I am part Asian, I think I have the right to poke fun at other Asians. Isn’t that just an awful thing to admit??? Before you get all offended on me, I am half Filipino and I could go and on about how spazzy we are!

But I was talking about headaches, since it would be rude to talk about an itching butt. (Don’t you just hate that? When your butt itches? Man, I really hate that.)

911: I really hate that, too.

Not One But Two
I have had two migraines in the last week. Two. Each lasting several days. If you get these, you know that this is hell with the caps lock button on. HELL.

I was doing some research on the net, looking for clues as to what happened this time. I haven’t had one this bad in years. Come to think of it, I’ve never had one this bad period. (Hey! At least it’s a life, you moron!)

Seems that migraines are triggered by all kinds of weird shit. It was probably something I ate this time. But it could have been the weather. Did you know that weather changes can trigger headaches? Oh, the list of triggers is long;
stress
non-stress
cloud patterns
caffeine (!)
not enough caffeine
pain medications (!)
wine
chocolate
wheat
eggs
citrus
tomatoes
cheese
milk
allergies
flashing lights
not enough sleep
too much sleep
the Seattle Sonics and other sources of bad fiction,

and I am thoroughly bamboozled as to how I can prevent another attack.

My point is that I am afraid. I am afraid of what is going to bring on another headache. My husband thinks it is the mold in our house. But I am beginning to think it could be something as simple as wearing the wrong color.

With this kind of headache, all bets are off. In one instance, a couple of ibuprofen and some strong coffee will do the trick. The next instance, nothing works. My headaches have never responded to percocet, fiorinal, vicodan, midrin, maxalt, percodan, hydrocone. Why they haven’t bottled sodium pentothal yet, is beyond me.

One of Those Voices: Well, then we would have everyone unconscious now, wouldn’t we young lady? You wouldn’t be able to function at all.

Me Answering Back: You can’t function at all with this headache anyway! moron.

One of Those Voices: My point is—

Me: --I know what your point is--

One of Those Voices: Shuttup, will you? My point is everyone, even Ghandi, would be checking out of life as we know it. What if your house burned down and you with it? moron.

Me: Then the headache would be gone, wouldn’t it? moron.

Donovan, my son: Mama? Who you talky to?

Suddenly a flashback smacks me in the forehead.
My mother, standing at the big front window, talking to someone who is NOT there.

oh god.
Now I understand.
She had these anonymous battles with herself constantly.
No wonder she never talked to us. She had this rich inner cast of morons! to keep her company. Now I am laughing out loud. It feels soooooo good to laugh.

And the pain is starting to recede. I finally took Rick Mutter’s advice and got me some Excedrin. Juanny came home from a TLC run with Excedrin Migraine, a case of ginger ale and a new paperback.

The Return of Misery
The relief is short-lived. The agony returns. Not the headache. No.

The neighbors have bought their own karaoke machine and every night they crank it up and sing (quite badly, I may add) the latest Vietnamese hits. They throw tons of reverb on it and it sounds like a depressed cat howling in the old Auburn High School gym. Actually, I can relate.

Sung to the tune of My Way

Hinkgow. . .chu-minga low

Selinka ung, uh-linga mitches

Guy cho! aaiiie me no

I am so low, cuz my butt itches . . .