A Headache Day

A Headache Day.

A day spent on auto-pilot, waiting til the absolutely-must-do stuff is done, so one can go home, take drugs, and vegetate in a darkened, quiet room. A day punctuated by deep breathing sessions and self-massage and failed efforts at self-distraction.

If I were a more spiritual person, I would use these days to deepen my journey toward God. I would use these days to remind myself what life is like apart from God and how every pain-free minute is a moment of grace. I would use these days to develop empathy toward the suffering. At the very least, I would use these days to cultivate a grateful spirit, to be thankful  that I have a job that allows me to go home in the middle of the day and crash.

I aspire to be that person. But I'm not there yet. Instead, I am grumpy and pissed off. I have Plans, goddammit! Things  to do. People to impress. Books to write.Plus, I hate hurting. I really do.

A couple of years ago, I actually took almost an entire semester's sick leave, in an effort to solve the Headache Problem once and for all.  I spent the months on a futile quest to convince my insurance company to pay for my treatment at a headache clinic ("We can only pay for treatment within the network area." But there are no headache clinics here and my doctor says-- "We can only pay for treatment within the network area."), waiting on hold for various lab techs and doctors' secretaries (not, by and large, happy individuals, I discovered), and keeping a headache diary (basically a fulltime occupation, as you have to log everything you eat, every shift in the weather, every activity you undertake, and every little twinge of pain with details RE the locus of the pain, the type of pain, what you were doing when the pain ensued. . . You become completely self-obsessed. You spend all your time watching and documenting yourself. It is Not Good for You. Jesus, I am sure, would never keep a headache diary.) I spent obscene amounts of money on massage therapy, physical therapy, chiropracty, various types of yoga, hormone testing, neurologists' visits, vitamins, and herbal supplements, Gregorian chant cds, and massive quantities of drugs. I alternated ice packs and heating pads. I watched "What Not to Wear" and discovered I was wearing it.  I still had headaches.

So I try something now and then--a round of acupuncture here, a set of stretching exercises there, an occasional consultation with a new doctor--and none of it makes a difference and I muddle through. It's just that days like today seem very muddley, not a lot of through, you know? Except at the end there's this gentle guy who rubs my neck and makes me dinner and lets me go to bed at 8:00 without laughing at me and seems to be ok with muddle. And that helps me through. Which seems enough, for now.