Good morning! We apologize for the technical difficulties of the last 48 hours. The Management of this blog hopes it has caused no lasting trauma and will now return you to your regularly scheduled post. Thank you for your patience and have a wonderful day!
Where was I when all this was occurring? OUT like my last hard drive! Drugs…are VERY BAD for Chris.
Due to a wonderful “glitch” with the almighty Insurance guys, I was unable to refill my blessed, holy, beloved migraine rescue meds. (Ya think I like them much?) So, in all his infinite Med School wisdom, my Doc gave me a script for a different “preventative” bit of darkness-from-the-nether-world. And yesterday I had cause to ingest it for the first time! Oh my…That’s all I can say because I remember NOTHING else!
Actually, I vaguely recall waking up to “eat” lunch. (And by “eat” I mean do my bestest impression of a Dyson Wind-tunnel thing…not even sure I actually chewed.) I sort of remember hubby getting home from work. I’m fairly certain I went to bed, since that’s where I woke up this morning…two hours late!
|This is the visual representation|
of a head that feels like GLORY!
Oh yeah, them’s some REALLY good meds! You may have a migraine approaching at the speed of suck, but you’ll never know because you’ll have chemically lost a full 24 hours. (Why couldn’t I have had these things when the offspring were toddlers? There are plenty of 24 hour periods from those “good ole days” I wouldn’t have minded missing.)
Fortunately, the only “after-effects” I seem to be experiencing is the feeling of being beaten with a lead-filled bat for 24 hours straight. But that’s cool…because my head feels like Glory! (Yes, a thing CAN feel like “glory” because I just said it could! Use your imagination, for cryin’ out loud!)
So, this morning it’s off to an early Physical Therapy appointment (9-friggin’-30!) then running about 50 errands. After THAT, I’m free to come home, grab a snow shovel, and begin excavating my living room. *deep sigh*
All I really want to know? Why did they have to wait until Mom was unconscious to have a rockin’ party? (Since, ya know…that’s the only explanation for the devastation I’m sitting here looking at.) I’m a fun gal…I like to celebrate. Or, do you think they were maybe celebrating my unconscious state? I foresee intense interrogations in their collective futures…
May your day be filled with parties you’re totally involved in, friends and family that pick up after themselves *falls over laughing at the possibility of this one actually occurring*, and more happily conscious hours than those spent in med-induced dream-land!