First, I awoke at two in the morning.
Sidenote: One should never awake at two in the morning. If you see 2 a.m., it should be because you've stayed up that late drinking/carousing/making bad decisions. Waking up at that hour never bodes well. Ever.
So I woke up because I had a headache. When I say the word 'headache,' here, what I really mean is that there was a throbbing in my head that made me want to drill a hole in my temple to let out the pressure of whatever the hell was causing the pain. I had a mild headache when I went to bed, but didn't think much of it. But at two, it had morphed into a living, evil entity, bent on the destruction of my Tuesday.
I took Tylenol, which, for me, is sort of like sticking a band-aid on a sucking chest wound. I drifited in and out of sleep, having all sorts of disturbing dreams (one involving my involvement in a cheesy 80's music video) until 6, when Nolan gave me more Tylenol.
The boys dressed, packed their lunches, brushed and flossed and fed themselves breakfast. It's mornings like this when I praise God that I've raised such independent, resposible kids. (I did have to get up and rescue Ethan who was trapped under the garage door - but that's an interesting story for another day.) They left for school, and I began the phase of headachey-ness that involves me on the bathroom floor revisiting last night's goat cheese pizza.
It was unpleasant, to say the very least.
In any case, I finally couldn't stand the pain and called Nolan to drive me to the Emergency Room. He's a great guy in crisis time; I'm so glad I'm married to him. He anticipated my needs, was kind and attentive and bulldogged the hospital staff until they made the pain go away. And they did, mostly. I never actually opened my eyes that I remember, the nurse and doctor were all just voices and footsteps. I got 2 shots (freaking OUCH), 3 prescriptions and a CAT scan that came back negative. I'm assuming that meant that I don't have a tumor or a brain bleed, not that I do not in fact, have a brain.
Though sometimes I wonder...
Anyway, if the pain was a 9 this morning, it's a 2 now. And even though I slept for most of the afternoon, I'm giving up for the night. I'm going to take some more of those glorious meds that the doctor prescribed, and pray with all my might that when I awake, it will NOT be two in the morning, I will NOT have a blinding pain in my head, and the chicken noodle soup I had for dinner will not make a reappearance.
Here's hoping, y'all. Night.