This morning when I woke up, I could barely lift my head off the pillow. In my right temple sat a weight so heavy that it hurt to move. For the first time all week, I had hit a 9 out of 10 on the pain scale, and it warranted some painkillers. I'd had this particular for about 18 hours at this point. All the entries in my headache diary were 7s and 8s, and even 8.8s. But never a 9. At lunchtime today, despite taking 2 aspirin at 9am when I got up, I was at a 9.2. It hadn't touched my pain, and I could barely do anything. I was lying in the dark just after midday, wondering how the hell I was going to get through the day if this aspirin wasn't going to help, when my friend rang. And my first thought was to ignore it. But instead I answered. And it could have been the honest, friendly chatter of two mates hashing out dilemmas, exchanging the dramas in our lives, or it could have been the radiation that mobile phones release. Or maybe, 3 and a half hours later, the aspirin I took started working. But whatever it was, my headache actually got better. It went from a 9 down to a 7. A 7 I can bear, even if it's a constant 7. You'd think a 7 sounds high, but if I was going to say my base state is anything, it'd be somewhere around 6. So a 7 isn't all that bad. I'll add up all the scores in my headache diary and find a median state for you, if you'd like. I was meant to get up for a run this morning. At 9am this morning I would never have thought I could go for a run at all today. But at 4pm I did. I was going to say I am not the same woman this evening as I was this morning. But the fact is I am. I am two different mental, physical and emotional states of the same woman. The difference is that the woman that's writing this right now is positive about life and the woman that made the below video blog was in a state of despair. And that's something I need to work on.
When life gives you lemons... Walking away from St Helier hospital on Monday, I couldn't help but cry. I tried not to; I was in public, about to get on a bus. But even on the phone to my nan, who I know I need to be strong for because of everything else going on, I broke down. And when my mum phoned me a bit later, I was in the middle of another big cry. I couldn't help but feel like I'd lost. Like this was my last stand - insisting I got referred, desperate for a new perspective. I didn't get a new perspective. I got the same old stuff about medication. At least I wasn't asked the same old questions about water consumption, diet, sleep, lifestyle, but that's because I wasn't asked anything. Saying that she thinks my body needs rigid sleeping and eating patterns without even asking if I already have these? As I said to her, there is no rhyme or reason. I could get 4 hours sleep and be totally fine. I could get 10 hours sleep and be ok. I could get the recommended 8 hours and wake up in agony. I've tried eliminating triggers, and I avoid the four things I know give me migraine: saccharin, Sesame Snaps, dark chocolate, and cheese. But I don't get migraines that often, so that information isn't really very useful. Trying to eliminate Coca Cola at the weekend only resulted in negative results - after twice getting intense headaches after drinking it, I then twice got no reaction from the same thing. I've written to the Patient Advice and Liaison Service with a 5 page letter about what happened, and included all the information that this woman did not have. The information I had to pay for a copy of, but surely she should have access to for free. Now I don't feel like I've lost. Now I feel like I lost some ground, but I am rallying my troops to recapture it. I don't feel quite as let down as I did on Monday. I feel like this is just another hump in the journey that is my recovery. It's just one that I'm still really annoyed about.
