step into the light with ferrets

I dreamt my brother had tiny light-sabers with which he battled his ferrets.  He's not a big Star Wars nerd and hasn't had ferrets since we were teenagers.  Brains are weird.  

The light-sabers were purple, if that matters.  I can hear whole choruses of Star Wars fans saying "of course it does!"  Most sites say purple is moral ambiguity.  One says purple is for Sith who changed to good.  And ferrets represent either curiosity or spying, depending on your outlook I guess.

I haven't been to the gym in over a month because of stitches and scheduling and laziness.  Last night I decided to do a few pushups (only 25 before I almost died) and some squats, with the alternate knees twisting inward at the bottom while holding the squat.  It's supposed to increase hip mobility and blah blah blah.

Anyway, I'm wondering if the exertion right before bedtime made my brain do calisthenics, too.

validation proclamation

Why do I still feel the need to be validated in my migraines?  I've been attending (virtually) the Migraine World Summit, and it's bringing tears to my eyes in almost every talk.  Healthcare professionals understand what I'm going through.

Each day there are different guest speakers being interviewed, and there is something for everyone.  Most are highly technical and really explore the chemical reactions that happen in our bodies.  All have compassion for their patients and are quick not to blame us for this neurological disorder.

I like that so many are honest in expressing their missing knowledge.  Not to say that they aren't educated, but that there are many unknowns in the field.  What works well for one person can have the opposite effect in another.  Or even in that original person at a different time.  And no one is blaming that person for fucking up something.  Yes, I've been on the other end of that many times. 

"You probably didn't take the medication right, that's why it didn't work."

"Are you sure you drank enough water?"

"Maybe you aren't sleeping as well as you thought."

"Is your stress under control?"

"How dare you eat (insert common food here) when you have migraines?" 

This last one is a doozy because experts have concluded that foods aren't necessarily triggering migraines, but they might be part of the prodromal craving associated with an impending migraine attack.  Whether or not I ate that bite of cheese had nothing to do with that migraine.

The bottom line is that treatment needs to be personalized for everyone and probably will change at different times in our lives.  Did I become a high maintenance woman because of my high maintenance brain?  Or is it fitting that a high maintenance person would have a high maintenance disorder?

Why not both?

don’t litter, it makes the world bitter

I battled a demon.  Literally!!

I went to take out my trash and there was an ENORMOUS palmetto bug (aka American cockroach aka winged demon) living in it.  HOLY FUCK!  I won't include any links or pics in case anyone has phobias.  They are a hazard of Florida living and come inside after heavy rains.

I donned protective gear in the form of hiking boots, but I deemed gardening gloves as too excessive.  Plus I was afraid I would lose some necessary dexterity.  And what if the fucker crawled inside?  UGHHHHHH.  I armed myself with vinegar spray.  I don't like using poison in my house because of my cat.  I kicked the garbage canister a few times and shark-bumped the lid about eight times.  And then I gave myself a lecture about how they aren't dangerous and I'm bigger blah blah blah.  I finally pulled off the lid and threw it down in case he was hiding inside.  SPOILER:  He wasn't.  But a piece fell off the lid.  Sigh. 

I decided to stop being a 'fraidy cat and deal with it.  I vaguely recall picking these bugs up with my bare hands when I was a kid to scare my teacher.  When did that change?  And why was I such an asshole?

I saw him scurry down inside the trash bag; and I quickly pulled the drawstrings, tied it up, and ran to put it by the curb.  ICKKKKKKK

Afterward, I came inside and thoroughly cleaned the can, the lid, and all around it.  I replaced the piece that flew off.  I hope it stays on.

Then it was on to the recycling. 

Earlier this week, I was filling my glass with water when the bottom literally fell out.  I've had this glass for years, and I've no idea why it chose then to separate.  I watched it fall in slow motion past my bare feet and hit the tile floor.  I was expecting a bloodbath as glass shards went flying, but there was nothing I could do.  I stayed put so I wouldn't accidentally step onto a shard.  Miraculously, it hit the floor and didn't shatter.  Not even one speck of blood.  Go me!  The black spots are where my black salt left a residue.  I promise I wasn't drinking moldy water.  I sometimes add unrefined salt to my water to replace electrolytes for migraine prevention.

glass that lost its bottom

I realized that my utensil drawer was overflowing with plastic scoops.  They come free in various powders, and I have the bad habit of saving things that might be useful later.  They rarely are.  I texted my brother to ask if he needed any because he's one of the most resourceful people I know.  I waited for the text back saying he uses them for some fantastical unique purpose.  Instead, the text I received was that he has tons of these, too.  Into the recycling bin they go.  Don't worry, I saved a few just in case.

so many scoops

I hope I didn't exceed my courage limit today because I have another dermatology appointment this afternoon.  Deep breaths...
 

do androids dream of electric sheep?

I've been playing Pokemon Go mostly as a solo game, although I have met various people out and about.  It's felt unseemly to play at my age, so I don't talk about it much.  I'm not old enough where it's cute, and I'm certainly not young enough to be in the demographic.  Or so I thought.

Sunday was #PokemonGOCommunityDay, and I figured it would be a good excuse to go outside and enjoy some fresh air.  Community Day is a three hour long event where they release extra spawns of a certain type.  This one was sheep.  I decided the local park would be nice for exercise and beautiful scenery. 

I got there about twenty minutes early and was SHOCKED to see the parking lot overflowing onto the street.  I parked two blocks away.  As I walked up, people were losing their minds coordinating raid battles, which I usually ignore because I can't solo them.  I gave myself an attitude adjustment and became social.  I joined two different raids and chatted a little.  Apparently Pokemon is serious business because these people stayed on topic.

One other detail I noticed was the age demographic.  There were a few kids, but it looked like they were dragged along by their parents.  Mostly it was adults, and I fit squarely in the middle.  It was surreal to hear older people yelling across the park about which augmented reality fictional characters were spotted.  I also ran into my favorite Thai restaurant owners there.  They'd setup a whole spread under a pavilion and invited me over to join their family.  I politely declined because I was there to catch 'em all not eat.  Just goofing.  I declined because I felt awkward crashing a family party I didn't know that well.

shiny Mareep

After ninety minutes, I was exhausted and sweaty.  It was the hot humidity before a violent night of storms.  I left early, showered, and went to bed early to nurse a migraine.  WHICH I STILL FUCKING HAVE.  It's not a bad one, so gratitude??

I heard a study mentioned this morning that says the more I focus on the pain, the more my physical brain structure changes, causing more pain.  See??  Denial really is the best medicine. 

feeling extra and hungry

I've only ever used my sous vide for steak.  I wasn't too sure about this Xmas present, but the steaks were extremely tender eleventy-five hours later, with minimal effort (my kind of cooking).  However, I had to start planning way ahead on what to eat.

An acquaintance mentioned he makes eggs in his.  So I decided to experiment with mine.  I was still satiated from the earlier kale mango lassi, so I didn't mind waiting an hour to eat again.  I quickly searched up a recipe and then improvised because I couldn't be bothered to grate cheese or pre-cook bacon.  I couldn't even be bothered to use a spoon earlier as you might recall.

I cracked open two eggs, cut some goat cheese chunks, grabbed some mushrooms, topped it off with snips of raw bacon, and stirred it in the jar.  I was a bit leery about the glass shattering and making a mess, (especially after cleaning the other side of my kitchen earlier), but apparently I'm not strong enough to over-tighten the jar.

I forgot the salt until after I started it.  Oops.  And I obviously skipped the searing step.  All in all, it was easy, filling, and nutritious.  I'll work on the taste and appearance next time.

sous vide egg bites

needs salt

fancy eating

it came from Mars

I bought a giant bag of kale and somehow it was tougher than I expected (even though it's the same kind I've been buying for years).  I decided after slogging through three meals like a cow chewing her cud, that I'd rather have it in my mango lassi, all blended and soft. 

I had a large tub of goat yogurt and some frozen mango from before my tree got blown down in the hurricane; and, I decided to make an easy breakfast.  I added some Pau d'Arco and chia seeds just because they're healthy and wouldn't affect the flavor, plus a bit of water for liquidity. 

I'm not big on measuring, so I threw in some mango, some yogurt, and some kale.  I blended it up, tasted it, and decided it needed a little more yogurt.  Guess who was too lazy to dirty a spoon?  I poured it in fine the first time. 

Guess what didn't pour easily the second time because the entire tub splashed in?

Guess who had green sticky goop splatter all over the counter, the cupboards, the fridge, the floor, and herself?

You're a good guesser!

kale mango lassi

snakes and ladders

As part of my process to apply for disability, I was required (or maybe strongly advised) to see one of their doctors.  It was very weird in that I had to get undressed.  Over my many years and various doctors, I've never had to get undressed to be examined for migraine.  They gave me a paper sheet, and it wasn't creepy, but it was odd.

I was prepared and brought in 20 pages of my migraine diary from the last three years (254 attacks).  I gave him a comprehensive description of my life and treatment.  And yet after I left, I felt like I'd fucked up.  I had anxiety the rest of the day and all throughout the night.  I barely slept. 

I hate this process.  My life feels like a game of snakes and ladders, where I'm hitting snake after snake recently.

Goldilocks

Guess who had a blissfully cool (but not too cold) sleep last night??   ME!!!

The first repairman showed up about 2pm (almost first thing in the morning like promised) to inspect the inside and outside units.  Then he delivered the bad news that my outside one was a goner.  The good news was that the inside handler (behind a wall, wtf) was still going strong.  YIPPEE!

I had a brief moment of embarrassment when he had to move my clothing rack to disassemble the wall.  I moved the many pairs of jeans.  (They'll come back into style again; high-waisted did unfortunately.)  But the clothing rack has over 100 t-shirts hanging on it.  I may have a small addiction.  And I had forgotten about the top shelf, on which rested several empty shoe boxes.  Why?  No clue.  I have since gotten rid of those.  Progress.

He very nicely replaced the rack and told me my options.  Either buy a new outside unit or die a sweaty death.  I opted for the non-fatal option, which he said they might get to that day.  It was already after 2pm.

By 6pm, four guys had shown up to install the new air conditioner unit, including the company owner from Sunday night.  Spoiler alert:  No crying this time, which is better progress than getting rid of five empty shoe boxes.

Despite the regrettable circumstances of being sweaty and paying gobs of money, I enjoyed myself for an hour, chatting with them.  I went outside to offer water and stayed outside to socialize and get an education on R-22 vs. R-410A refrigerants, random boating knowledge, and the powers of raw aloe vera according to one's long-dead Grandma.  She wasn't wrong.

I'm hot

Because my air conditioner broke.

Probably I was supposed to have maintenance done on it.  It's one of the many things that has slipped through the cracks, like my skin cancer maintenance.  I'm sure others will rear their ugly heads at some point.  The good news is that it's not officially Summer yet.  The bad news is that it's unofficially Summer this week, with highs in the upper 80s Fahrenheit.

I called my AC repairman from years ago, and yippee, he's still in business and was able to come out on a Sunday.  The bad news is it's not an easy fix, so he has to come back today.  And he's extremely busy all week, so I hope he can fit me in today.

He's also super nice and asked how we were doing.  Notice the plural.  I explained we split up, and to my horror and embarrassment (probably his, too), I started crying.  It's been three years.  What the fuck already.  He's been through it, too, so he was very kind, but it's uncomfortable when it's a casual acquaintance.  So then he asks what I'm up to work-wise.  Sigh.  I said I'm exploring my options.  So then he said, well at least you're healthy and look great.  At this point, I'm agreeing with him and pushing him out the door before I really start bawling.  I don't feel healthy anymore, but I was in fact, having a good hair day, so I'll take that.  :)

As soon as he left, I started crying harder.   After five minutes, I forced myself to stop so as not to trigger a migraine.  I turned off my phone and decided to binge watch TV.  I put my ceiling fan on high and crawled on top of my bed.  From years of migraine experience, I knew that sleeping with an ice pack on my head can make me cold.  I was on the verge of getting one anyway, so I got the ice pack out and slept fitfully through the night.

I have to keep reminding myself that grief is the price we pay for love.  And I certainly don't want to go through life without love.  Therefore, I'm allowing myself to grieve in small, hopefully non-migraine inducing doses.

tempus edax rerum

Time devours everything.

I'd been looking at my gorgeous Waterford Crystal clock, with the same wrong time, for a while now.  It was less expensive to buy a card of five batteries at once, so I did.  They arrived today in an overly large box.

batteries

I successfully changed the Waterford battery very easily because they're a classy company that makes high quality products.

Waterford Crystal obelisk clock

I still had four batteries left and remembered an old Brighton clock with a dead battery sitting in a drawer.  I pulled that out and spent 30 minutes trying to pop the back off without injuring myself or anything else.  Holy fuck, why so difficult, Brighton??  There was no notch!

Brighton clock

It feels kind of weird to have clocks around.  I'm so used to looking at my phone to see the time and feeling temporally confused when it's on the charger or in another room.

cognitive dissonance

I promised to expound more on feeling old and decrepit.

It's a bizarre dichotomy.  On my good days, of which there are still far too few, I feel great, healthy, and normal.  And then the guilt kicks in.  Maybe I shouldn't apply for disability because I'm not disabled today.  Yes, I know that's not how disability works.  Guilt isn't logical.

Future Wendy says, "Hurry up and run your errands right now!  It could take you out at any moment!"

Healthy Wendy says, "Take it easy.  Don't overtax yourself because you know what happens."

Politically Correct Wendy says, "Quit victim-blaming, mofo!"

Fun Wendy says, "OMG, fucking relax, you deserve some indulgence after all of this shit.  Otherwise, what's the point?"

And then the other boot drops.  Hard.  And I am so appreciative that I am applying for disability because there's no way I could hold down a job, never knowing when that steel-toed boot will kick me to the ground.

Grateful Wendy says, "Thank fuck you went shopping earlier and have plenty of food."

Perfectionist Wendy throws her hands up and says, "Fuck it, I guess this is good enough for how shitty you feel.  If you're in bed today, you won't even notice that the living room needs to be vacuumed."

Frustrated Wendy says, "Why am I so old and decrepit after eating and living so healthily?"

Sad Wendy wonders, "Is this all there is to existence?" and sometimes throws a Pity Party.  Quietly.

Fun Wendy is nowhere to be found.

It's very busy inside my head, except when I forcefully eject everyone out for five minutes to meditate, which requires all kinds of permits that are a hassle to obtain.

stitches get itches

I guess everything is healing nicely, because it's starting to itch.  The incision is on my back and covered with steri-strips so I can't really see what's going on, even with mirrors.  I'll assume the best because I'm almost an optimist.

I'm starting to feel like an old, retired person now.  My days are occupied with doctors visits and health concerns.  Ugh.  I should shut the fuck up and be grateful that I have access to these specialists which I apparently so desperately need BECAUSE I'M OLD AND DECREPIT.  (More on that later.)

The incision got a bit painful when the anesthesia wore off, but the pain never passed a 4 on my scale of 10.  Unfortunately, the migraine that hit me the following morning was much higher (let's say 9 because 10 is too depressing to contemplate).  And it was on the opposite side of my body, so I couldn't get comfortable.  Roll to the right, owww.  Roll to the left, motherfucking owww.

It was a long miserable day.  Two triptan pills and one triptan injection later (which I accidentally jabbed into a blood vessel and holy fuck that hurt), my head was recovering.  Kitten came and visited, without hurting me.  Yay!

I was way too scared to take any Tylenol for my incision because that might set off my head again.  I moved gingerly for a couple days, which is what normal pain is designed to do, so in a weird logical way, I didn't mind the pain so much.