Yesterday I woke up with a migraine that felt like I was trying to give birth through my right eye. It was…unpleasant. And the rest of the day was equally as lovely. I’d accomplished so much on Monday that I was convinced this week I’d get my Super Wife/Mama/Bam cape and fly through the rest of the days like a super star. Now I’m wondering if I’m going to manage to make a pot of coffee (and at 5:05 a.m. I need it)! It’s only Wednesday!
Monday morning I leaped, so to speak, from bed and started being that homemaker. You know. She’s the one who you met when she moved in across the street. And by the time you walked over 10 minutes after the moving van was gone, she had every box unpacked and a cake in the oven. Before I’d even had a full cup of coffee I had the dough for herb bread rising.
I finished baking the bread which was a thank you gift for my friend Eileen. Yep, I was feeling really proud of myself. The bread was baked and already had a plan for a meatless meal in place.
I had some rigatoni and since Pete and his youngest, Estrella, were coming for dinner I thought that would be easier for her to handle. Fettuccine can be a challenge for an eight year old. And instead of spinach I was going to add broccoli because she wasn’t going to eat either and I like broccoli. Then I thought about what she really likes and I thought I’d make chicken with it for the two of them and also some garlic bread for everyone. Dinner plans complete! Yay me!
But by the time they got here I was in so much pain I didn’t really want to cook frozen pizza. Poor Pete ended up “helping” by making 70% of the dinner. In spite of the fact that he started cooking in professional kitchens when he was 14 and was a head chef when he quit cooking a few years ago I sat at the stove supervising. I mention that because, with the results, dinner was not his fault.
Estrella was eating but taking a very long time with her pasta. She’d gone after the chicken and the garlic bread like a wolf after a rabbit. She asked for more chicken and bread but was pushing the rigatoni around like Will Smith’s dog in “I am Legend.”
When I mentioned she didn’t seem to like the diner she said, “Oh no, I like it but this,” stabbing a piece of rigatoni and holding it up, “could use some work.” Her opinion reflects on my cooking and not Kylee’s recipe. Mr. C liked it but the truth is the sauce had some issues.
As soon as I finished dinner I retreated to the bed to nurse my hips and back. My poor granddaughter was left alone in the living room because Pete and Mr. C went to the basement to discuss an upcoming project. Estrella fell asleep on the couch, all alone. So much for Super Bam.
Later in the evening, after the kids had gone home, I took a muscle relaxant. I avoid them even though they often help because they leave me wonky. The day after taking one I walk around like I’m on a ship in heavy seas. I bounce off walls and the furniture and fall asleep standing up like a horse. And that pill is probably why I had the migraine. When I take a muscle relaxant I sleep! Not a normal, refreshing sleep. It is more like a chemically induced coma.
So yesterday I fought with the migraine but also with Pete’s tablet. He’d brought it over before he went to work so we could watch The Walking Dead. Unfortunately there was some problem with the streaming. We either got the right title but the wrong episode or that little blue wheel of death would spin and spin and nothing else would happen. It literally took three hours to finally get the darned thing to play the right episode!
While I was waiting for the tablet to start behaving I decided to call my doctor. I had actually called on Monday to ask about the test results I’d gotten on the blood they’d taken last week. The nurse was busy so I was told I’d get a call back. I didn’t. So I called them.
This was clearly not a wise move since I already had The Migraine from Hell and was ready to fix Pete’s tablet by beating it with a can of corn. After being left on hold for nearly 14 minutes; time I spent working myself up into a state of fury, the nurse finally got on the line.
My original questions were; “Why did it take nearly a week to get results? Why did they send the blood to the Mayo Clinic for testing? After all, the University of Michigan hospital should be able to do them. And why was I told to have this re-test of my blood for one thing when, in fact, they did a completely different test?
The nurse, Rick, explained that the hematologist/oncologist had told my doctor to run that test. He didn’t know why I was told it was for something else. Rick didn’t know why I was tested for the things they tested for and didn’t know why the hematologist sent it to the Mayo Clinic. Fortunately, he was “pretty sure” my doctor would get in touch if further testing was needed. Oh. Good.
I hung up and went back to watching the blue wheel of death.
Dinner last night was nachos. I had to open a can, hack up some Velveeta, and brown hamburger. I didn’t even have to open the bag of tortilla chips. It wasn’t exactly home cooking at its finest. But I didn’t care.
This morning I’m sitting in front of my computer, mostly staring at the same word for ten minutes at a time. I still haven’t made coffee and I can’t think of anything easy enough to make for dinner so we probably won’t eat. I don’t care about that either. And it’s only Wednesday!
But, in the spirit of trying to be Super Everything I’m going to go make coffee. I’m going to hook it up to an I.V. and have it that way until I show signs of breathing on my own. I’m hoping that by the time I get through the third
pot cup I’ll have enough brain cells working to do more than manage heartbeat and respiration.
I don’t want to think about the rest of the week yet. It’s only Wednesday and it feels like I’ve been working on this week for a month! But I’ll rally. The sun will come up and I’ll feel like a different person. I’ll probably bake cookies for Rick. I owe him. I hung up on him yesterday. And I’ll make a decent dinner. I won’t kill Henry although he deserves it. Oh. Did I mention he ate my entire chive plant then threw it (and the dirt he also ingested) on the living room floor…while Mr. C was gone?
This week will turn around. After all, it’s only Wednesday!
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