Kate Kresse’s comment:
Good news–i haven’t run into the coffee table in 2 days. but i did open the fridge door right into my head. (duh).
on my last post reminded me of recent events.
Remember my headache? I’ll deviate slightly here, just for information’s sake and inform you that yes, I still have it, and yes, I am demented by now.
No, it’s not as bad as it was. I’ve been having manual therapy, which does something, but nothing seems to remove it completely.
It would seem I’m stuck with it, at least for the moment. I have seen far too many doctors and therapists in the last almost four months. I’ve decided for the foreseeable future I’m going to avoid doctors and therapists completely. Save some money. And battle on through.
The good news is that there is definitely no tumour. I had a CT scan and the neurologist (that would be neurologist number two) told me that my brain is perfect.
That statement, however, made me even more sceptical toward doctors. My brain definitely does not work properly. I regularly forget my children’s names. Lose my keys. Write down a shopping list then don’t bother to take it with me. Find myself standing in the middle of a room wondering why the hell am I here? And then there’s the time I forgot to pull down my knickers before I sat on the loo…
Anyway, back to the lovely Kate’s comment.
In December, a month or so into my headache, I found myself in my kitchen, pretending I didn’t have a headache and attempting to knead dough. OK partly I was kneading, partly I was taking out my frustrations. So much so in fact, that not only my hands were working, but the rest of my body as well. A fact I realized when I lunged my head forward and smacked my forehead against the kitchen cupboard’s metal door handle.
I suspect the resulting bruise would have been nowhere near as bad, if I had not then walked over to another cupboard and opened it whacking it directly against the exact same spot on my poor forehead.
Now you have to remember that at that point I had been heard (quite loudly) complaining about my headache, at every given opportunity.
Thus people from near and far spotted me walking around with a full-on let’s-go-through-the-rainbow-spectrum-of-colours bruise right in the middle of my forehead.
“I wonder why you’ve got a headache?” they felt the need to chortle.
Finally, milk bottle white again, I proceeded with acupuncture.
Which resulted in not one but two bruises, conveniently placed above each eyebrow.
Let’s just say, I became familiar with the term, “It looks like you’ve got horns growing out of your head!”
evil good-humoured family launching into fits of hysterics every time they caught a glimpse of me.