I’ve said before that if you ever see I’ve skipped a post you should assume I’ve been killed by spiders—because it is 100% reasonable to assume it will be the spiders that kill me someday. I know this because they are out to get me; yes, I have proof and no, I don’t want to talk about it. That’s not what we’re here for today.
It turns out, I was wrong.
Bit of background for you, and a lesson on migraines while we’re at it: I’m on one daily migraine preventative in addition to my regular injections, but mostly I rely on rescue meds. I’ve made this choice because all migraine medications—rescue or preventative—come with side-effects that range from shitty to life-threatening and I’d rather deal with those side-effects only when I’m miserable enough to bargain my soul away to stop the pain. My daily preventative, for example, causes a pins-and-needles sensation similar to what you get when your foot falls asleep and the feeling just starts coming back. Only it stays all goddamned day, and it’s your hands, arms, feet, lower legs, head and face and neck and… it was like fucking ants crawling under my skin while I ramped up my dose and learned to take that shit at night so I could sleep through the worst of it. It also causes cramps in my extremities—usually little ones, no big deal, but it’s a weird sensation to get a charley horse on the top of your foot or the back of your hand. Then there are the nights like last night.
ME: (wakes up screaming)
HIM: (bolts upright, reaches for my legs)
ME: (gasping, clutches offending leg)
HIM: (makes soothing noises, massages spasming calf muscle)
ME: (relieved sigh) (reaches for water)
HIM: (kisses my shoulder) (goes back to sleep)
We have this routine down, but what about when he’s not here? Someday I’ll be alone when it happens (women live longer than men, after all) and that, I’m pretty sure, is how I’ll die.
But that’s years away, isn’t it? I mean, unless certain Negative Nancys are right and I’m doomed to watch him pack his bags over this blog. In which case, I’d better hurry up and tell you why we’re here. Which, as I look back, will take a nothingth of the post up to this point; there may be something wrong with my method. We’ll have to circle back to that another time.
What I wanted to tell you is this: I’m falling apart all over and it’s a source of amusement for him.
ME: My left tailbone hurts.
HIM: Your left tailbone.
HIM: Well you’re not supposed to have a left tailbone, so I think we found the problem. (chuckles)