TY to all of you for calls and love. I am somewhat better today. My head still pounds and aches when I stand up or sit down or lie down, but it is quite diminished. Before, it pounded so hard I was actually afraid I would die -- just fall down dead. Now, that is gone and the pounding, while still painful, is much milder.
And my appetite has returned. Remember when that was not a concern? I am glad that I want a bit to eat; I have been forcing myself to eat just a bit every day despite not wanting it; not fueling one's body can lead to headaches, and I've had enough of that for now. I did track how much I ate and it ranged from 200 to 420 calories/day, but that was all I could take.
I am still not eating much, but I do get a little hungry before I eat, and I am glad to have that back.
TY again for your thoughts and prayers. I have an MRA, which is like an MRI of your arteries, I think, on Wednesday, to continue to see why this all started to begin with.
Tuesday will be a challenge as I have a meeting in the morning and City Council in the afternoon. I need to look well and "on the ball."
My older son and his fam are arriving any day now, and DH and I are getting ready for their visit. I so look forward to it. My red wagon from Traci's infancy is cleaned out and ready for little riders. :) We are taking an outing today to stock up on sippy cups. My first outing in almost 2 weeks. DH questioned the wisdom of going out today, and I posed the choice: go out today and possibly ruin a good day, or I go ALONE tomorrow while he is at work. He went for option A.
Sunday, July 4
Saturday, July 3
Noggin
It's 3:20 in the morning and I still can't get to sleep. I didn't nap today, except for that blissful moment when I did fall asleep and my gf, who has been on vacay, promptly rang the bell -- so that didn't count.
I'm guessing my system is telling me the 10 days I've spent in bed is plenty of rest and hey! we aren't tired anymore!
But I haven't been lying down because I'm tired, but because getting up gives me the damnedest headache you ever saw. It's a sudden and intense pounding and intense pressure inside my head, very painful, and very scary.
I usually avoid blogging when I'm angry, or sad, or don't feel well, as those who read it will think of me that way until I blog again, which sometimes could be quite some time.
Most of you know, though, that I haven't been well lately, so this posting won't come as a surprise.
It all started with a sort of normal headache, not like these, but a sudden, intense, severe pain that quickly caused puking, lots of it, and one, then another trip to the ER. Over the course of the two trips, they gave me a CT scan, 2 spinal taps, and finally an MRI. At first they were checking for an aneurysm, then for a mass, and both were ruled out with these tests.
Finally, coming home with a clean bill of health (sort of --but why do I get these headaches??) I should be ready and able to function normally. But for a week I could not get up without this pounding and pain. A trip to the neurologist diagnosed me with a spinal tap headache.
Ironically, they have renamed spinal tap to "lumbar puncture" to reduce the horror associated with it, but the headache is still called, spinal tap headache.
A spinal tap headache happens after, duh, a spinal tap. 1 in 20 people don't heal up right away, and the spinal fluid leaks into the body, leaving the brain sitting slap against the skull, instead of in a nice fluid sac that cushions it. This causes a nasty headache.
The cure for a spinal tap headache is called a blood patch. They inject your own blood into the site of the spinal tap; the blood clots, thereby plugging up the hole where the spinal fluid was leaking out. The body makes more spinal fluid and voila! the brain has its nice cushion again.
I had this done on Wednesday and should be feeling fine by now.
Of course, I'm special, and typically don't ever follow the rules set out for normal people.
The amount of time I can sit up or stand has gotten longer, we're talking 10 to 30 minutes at a time, but eventually, this pounding and pain starts and I have to scurry for bed to lie down. So I can do mini-tasks, like fold the laundry, or put in another load. Last night, um, make that, Thursday night, I even cleaned out and organized the freezer. The one in our refrigerator, not the chest freezer.
I had a particularly bad day today, whining and fretting and worrying that they'll never figure out what's wrong and I'll have to live this way forever. At one point, I told DH, "I love our bed, but this is getting crazy."
While I'm lying down, what do I think about? All the things I wish I were doing. And I have to admit, I have "asked" DH to do quite a bit today, to the point that he really seemed to get tired of it. Check. Lesson learned. Don't ask for something unless you really need it, dingbat.
My iPod has been my saving grace, and tomorrow I plan to ask LO to play cards with me. Anything to keep my brain occupied and my head healing.
Oops, I have been up too long, and must scurry off to bed. I promise to blog again with updates. Love to all.
I'm guessing my system is telling me the 10 days I've spent in bed is plenty of rest and hey! we aren't tired anymore!
But I haven't been lying down because I'm tired, but because getting up gives me the damnedest headache you ever saw. It's a sudden and intense pounding and intense pressure inside my head, very painful, and very scary.
I usually avoid blogging when I'm angry, or sad, or don't feel well, as those who read it will think of me that way until I blog again, which sometimes could be quite some time.
Most of you know, though, that I haven't been well lately, so this posting won't come as a surprise.
It all started with a sort of normal headache, not like these, but a sudden, intense, severe pain that quickly caused puking, lots of it, and one, then another trip to the ER. Over the course of the two trips, they gave me a CT scan, 2 spinal taps, and finally an MRI. At first they were checking for an aneurysm, then for a mass, and both were ruled out with these tests.
Finally, coming home with a clean bill of health (sort of --but why do I get these headaches??) I should be ready and able to function normally. But for a week I could not get up without this pounding and pain. A trip to the neurologist diagnosed me with a spinal tap headache.
Ironically, they have renamed spinal tap to "lumbar puncture" to reduce the horror associated with it, but the headache is still called, spinal tap headache.
A spinal tap headache happens after, duh, a spinal tap. 1 in 20 people don't heal up right away, and the spinal fluid leaks into the body, leaving the brain sitting slap against the skull, instead of in a nice fluid sac that cushions it. This causes a nasty headache.
The cure for a spinal tap headache is called a blood patch. They inject your own blood into the site of the spinal tap; the blood clots, thereby plugging up the hole where the spinal fluid was leaking out. The body makes more spinal fluid and voila! the brain has its nice cushion again.
I had this done on Wednesday and should be feeling fine by now.
Of course, I'm special, and typically don't ever follow the rules set out for normal people.
The amount of time I can sit up or stand has gotten longer, we're talking 10 to 30 minutes at a time, but eventually, this pounding and pain starts and I have to scurry for bed to lie down. So I can do mini-tasks, like fold the laundry, or put in another load. Last night, um, make that, Thursday night, I even cleaned out and organized the freezer. The one in our refrigerator, not the chest freezer.
I had a particularly bad day today, whining and fretting and worrying that they'll never figure out what's wrong and I'll have to live this way forever. At one point, I told DH, "I love our bed, but this is getting crazy."
While I'm lying down, what do I think about? All the things I wish I were doing. And I have to admit, I have "asked" DH to do quite a bit today, to the point that he really seemed to get tired of it. Check. Lesson learned. Don't ask for something unless you really need it, dingbat.
My iPod has been my saving grace, and tomorrow I plan to ask LO to play cards with me. Anything to keep my brain occupied and my head healing.
Oops, I have been up too long, and must scurry off to bed. I promise to blog again with updates. Love to all.
The Clock
It's 3am and our crazy clock just struck 33 times. No, that's not a typo. 33 times. Don't mistake the number as having anything wildly related to the actual time; it might well have struck 9 times, or 22, or 3. The record number of strikes at one time so far, is 38.
At one time, this would've driven me bat-sh*t crazy, but clockmakers are highly overpaid, IMHO, and I'm too cheap to drive this old clock 22 miles to the nearest clock repairman (make that 44 miles, round trip, and another 44 miles to go fetch the thing) and fork over another $50 so he can make it strike the correct number of times, when I generally know what time it is, anyway, since we have another clock that plays well with others and strikes the correct time. And, although this clock strikes like mad, it keeps perfect time, so nothing really needs fixed.
I remember when we bought this clock. A local auctioneer used to have auctions at the VFW Post around the corner every couple of months or so, and DH and I considered it a night out. We'd gather up LO and a quilt and some toys for her to play with, and go sit and look at stuff and watch people vie for it and sometimes we'd vie for it, too. That's how we got our English banker's chair, a swivel one, for $12 -- and odd tables around the house, and our brass bed for $60, and some of our Depression glass, and lots of my linens, and our church pew, now proudly, beautifully refinished by yours truly -- and the clock.
We brought the clock home and proudly set it atop something in the kitchen. It worked from the day we got it. The face and pendulum are fronted by a glass door with folk art painted on the inside of the glass. But one can't see the painting from the inside, as it's painted over with black paint. It's old, probably pretty old, and is made of walnut. The backside of the clock is made from some pretty rough wood, and has the remains of an old label inside, although not enough of it remains to be read.
Within a month, moths had infested our kitchen. At first, we had one or two lazily taking a circuit during dinnertime, and we thought nothing of it. Later, though, I found their larvae in everything -- flour, sugar, teabags, even a can of Campbell's soup, even though I never figured how the momma got inside to lay her eggs. That was some kind of maternal determination. They had come from a teeny web-like thing in the corner of the wooden box that I never noticed then, but would carefully search for if we got it today, now that I'm older and wiser.
I threw stuff out and threw stuff out for a year or two, assiduously cleaned, and finally, ahh. It was over. We never had moths again. (Find some wood to knock on, quick.)
In the meanwhile, DH had built a proper shelf for it from walnut he had purchased at a woodcrafter's estate sale. He got a truckload of wood pieces for $1 at the very end of the auction, and we loaded armload after armload into the bed of his little green truck. This piece was from an old bowfront dresser, and the cove molding made a beautiful shelf for the clock.
The erratic striking would once have made me crazy, as I said, but now I listen to it with a sense of humor. After all, who else has such a crazy clock? It only seems more dear to me now.
At one time, this would've driven me bat-sh*t crazy, but clockmakers are highly overpaid, IMHO, and I'm too cheap to drive this old clock 22 miles to the nearest clock repairman (make that 44 miles, round trip, and another 44 miles to go fetch the thing) and fork over another $50 so he can make it strike the correct number of times, when I generally know what time it is, anyway, since we have another clock that plays well with others and strikes the correct time. And, although this clock strikes like mad, it keeps perfect time, so nothing really needs fixed.
I remember when we bought this clock. A local auctioneer used to have auctions at the VFW Post around the corner every couple of months or so, and DH and I considered it a night out. We'd gather up LO and a quilt and some toys for her to play with, and go sit and look at stuff and watch people vie for it and sometimes we'd vie for it, too. That's how we got our English banker's chair, a swivel one, for $12 -- and odd tables around the house, and our brass bed for $60, and some of our Depression glass, and lots of my linens, and our church pew, now proudly, beautifully refinished by yours truly -- and the clock.
We brought the clock home and proudly set it atop something in the kitchen. It worked from the day we got it. The face and pendulum are fronted by a glass door with folk art painted on the inside of the glass. But one can't see the painting from the inside, as it's painted over with black paint. It's old, probably pretty old, and is made of walnut. The backside of the clock is made from some pretty rough wood, and has the remains of an old label inside, although not enough of it remains to be read.
Within a month, moths had infested our kitchen. At first, we had one or two lazily taking a circuit during dinnertime, and we thought nothing of it. Later, though, I found their larvae in everything -- flour, sugar, teabags, even a can of Campbell's soup, even though I never figured how the momma got inside to lay her eggs. That was some kind of maternal determination. They had come from a teeny web-like thing in the corner of the wooden box that I never noticed then, but would carefully search for if we got it today, now that I'm older and wiser.
I threw stuff out and threw stuff out for a year or two, assiduously cleaned, and finally, ahh. It was over. We never had moths again. (Find some wood to knock on, quick.)
In the meanwhile, DH had built a proper shelf for it from walnut he had purchased at a woodcrafter's estate sale. He got a truckload of wood pieces for $1 at the very end of the auction, and we loaded armload after armload into the bed of his little green truck. This piece was from an old bowfront dresser, and the cove molding made a beautiful shelf for the clock.
The erratic striking would once have made me crazy, as I said, but now I listen to it with a sense of humor. After all, who else has such a crazy clock? It only seems more dear to me now.
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