hush heartbeat
Aug. 9th, 2007 11:43 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brightrosefoxMigraine again; I woke up with it. Apparently the intense heat waves combined with the distant storm fronts are the biggest culprits. I now know that it is very possible to experience two migraines in a row, with only a couple of days of relief in between. Damn it. Making my skull pulse, heartbeat after heartbeat, again again again.
I have no Excedrin, no Advil. My boss, ever the understanding and helpful, gave me a packet of sublingual homeopathic tablets. Migraide. Three under the tongue. If they work soon enough, I will be thrilled.
However, not much to help the ongoing fibro flare. All week long. The burning, stabbing, throbbing, aching, deep muscle pain and tension can only be pushed aside, I can't let it consume. My hands ache, I am sensitive to the lightest touch, even the brush of one hand on the other; touching my face, moving my legs, climbing stairs, the press of my clothes on my skin, it all hurts. But I can't cry, I won't. Just the medication and the yoga breathing and the stretches and the meditation, that's all I can do because I will not fall apart, I refuse, I will only fight and fight, whisper victory victory.
What's been holding me together has been being able to wake up every morning with my husband, drive with him to the city. He drops me off right at my building and we kiss and I go to work. And at the end of my day, I walk to where he is working at the hotel three blocks from Union Station, and we drive home together, and make dinner together, and watch downloaded episodes of Babylon 5 together, and go to bed together, and wake up together. His smile is what I need, his hand on my thigh or my arm or my neck, holding my hand as he drives, happy little sigh, "I love you," his pure contentment at this little brief routine, this husband and wife togetherness.
His boss will be buying him a passport.
In November, there's going to be a job in Edinburgh, Scotland.
He might be the one going.
I hold these times so tight in my heart but it doesn't hurt, it feels like flying.
Any day I could be going to bed alone, waking up alone, days in a row.
Any day now I could have a husband who not only travels the country, but the world.
I am not going to say I'm unafraid, or unhappy.
I'll just miss him when he's gone.
One day, when my book is published, maybe we'll have enough money to travel together.
I have no Excedrin, no Advil. My boss, ever the understanding and helpful, gave me a packet of sublingual homeopathic tablets. Migraide. Three under the tongue. If they work soon enough, I will be thrilled.
However, not much to help the ongoing fibro flare. All week long. The burning, stabbing, throbbing, aching, deep muscle pain and tension can only be pushed aside, I can't let it consume. My hands ache, I am sensitive to the lightest touch, even the brush of one hand on the other; touching my face, moving my legs, climbing stairs, the press of my clothes on my skin, it all hurts. But I can't cry, I won't. Just the medication and the yoga breathing and the stretches and the meditation, that's all I can do because I will not fall apart, I refuse, I will only fight and fight, whisper victory victory.
What's been holding me together has been being able to wake up every morning with my husband, drive with him to the city. He drops me off right at my building and we kiss and I go to work. And at the end of my day, I walk to where he is working at the hotel three blocks from Union Station, and we drive home together, and make dinner together, and watch downloaded episodes of Babylon 5 together, and go to bed together, and wake up together. His smile is what I need, his hand on my thigh or my arm or my neck, holding my hand as he drives, happy little sigh, "I love you," his pure contentment at this little brief routine, this husband and wife togetherness.
His boss will be buying him a passport.
In November, there's going to be a job in Edinburgh, Scotland.
He might be the one going.
I hold these times so tight in my heart but it doesn't hurt, it feels like flying.
Any day I could be going to bed alone, waking up alone, days in a row.
Any day now I could have a husband who not only travels the country, but the world.
I am not going to say I'm unafraid, or unhappy.
I'll just miss him when he's gone.
One day, when my book is published, maybe we'll have enough money to travel together.
