Category Archives: NaBloPoMo

Well, That Was Scary.

As you know from reading my blog, I suffer from migraines. They are pretty typical, follow the same pattern each time, and though terrible, not really so much of a concern because I’ve been dealing with them for so many years. I generally try to not think about the fact that it could be something worse and I just don’t know it. I have so much else to think about I just pretend this little nugget doesn’t exist.

Until yesterday.

My migraine was following its usual course. It began Thursday as a dull ache, shoulders and neck completely tense and rock solid. Friday I woke up at 3:30am in terrible pain. I took my usual cocktail of coffee and Advil and set about my day. I do not have time for headaches to get in my way. I sound like a commercial for pain reliever but it’s true. And again, I’m used to this. By midmorning I was feeling better enough to carry on with all of my normal Friday things. I worked, I had several phone conversations, I started some laundry, I fetched my kid from school, all of it. I planned to have an easy night, the first time I didn’t have somewhere to be after work all week, just folding laundry and resting.

Until around 4:15.

You know when someone takes a picture with a flash and you have the bright light in your field of vision and you can’t see? And you know how it goes away? Imagine it didn’t. And then it spread and you couldn’t see out of one eye. That is what happened to me yesterday. I thought maybe my eyes were just exhausted from trying to read ridiculous spreadsheets. The screens were bright and I hadn’t noticed how dark it was getting and I needed another light. My head had been starting to hurt worse again, but I assumed I was tired. You know, until I started going blind.

I tried going into a dark room to shut my eyes, but every time I opened them it was worse. Half of my field of vision was wavy lines and bright blurriness. I have never in my life experienced anything like that. I was talking to Nathan to see if I was slurring and making sure I could move. Then it occurred to me that in my current state I might not be the best judge of whether or not I was having a stroke. I texted my husband to see when he was coming home and mentioned, ever so casually, that I was slightly concerned about what was happening.

He raced home, got my in-laws to watch Nathan and we went to urgent care since, by then, I could see again and the pain was subsiding. I figured if things took a turn for the worse there they could just call me an ambulance.

Diagnosis: Ocular migraine on top of my garden variety one. Treatment: A shot of anti-inflammatory in my ass. Follow up treatment: Call my primary doctor and schedule a CAT scan just in case.

I’m feeling better today, but not great. I’ll be resting, something I never do. (Gee, I wonder why I get so many headaches?) The doctor said it may never happen again. I’m skeptical, but never again would be nice.

This is NaBloPoMo Day 23.
Featured Image Credit: ladies-in-hades-and-the-dyval-wears-prada.obsidianportal.com
You can read more here.

I’m Not Really Here.

It looks like I am, but I’m not.

I’m actually over here. You know yeah write is my home away from home. Because it’s National Blog Posting Month, there have been a guest post there every single day this month.

I’m not talking about writing, I’m not opening a grid. Today I’m talking about one of my most favorite topics: Me!

So please go click there and read. Below my post are links to over 1oo other bloggers who are also sharing daily, and I’ll bet you won’t have to try too hard to find something awesome.

This is NaBloPoMo Day 22.

Featured Image Credit: www.wellhappypeaceful.com

The Whiniest Post.

Today…

started at 5am…

with a migraine and cramps so bad I could feel them in my ankles…

then the power went out at 10:15…

before the heater had really kicked in so the house was freezing…

and there’s no coffee when the power goes out…

so I took my lunch break at 10:15…

and couldn’t get any of the things done that I had intended to do during my lunch break…

and which makes the rest of the day seem so unbearably long…

then my kid came home from school with a box of 52 candy bars he needs to sell but I barely leave the house so I’ll probably end up eating most of them…

and then I ate the crispy rice candy bar…

while my kid complained…

and just as we were finishing up the evening nonsense…

I discovered the kitchen sink that I just replaced not even six months ago leaked all over the place and now tomorrow I have to have a plumber in…

so I just give up…

and I’m going to eat my dinner and then another candy bar and then hopefully go to sleep.

This is NaBloPoMo Day 22.

You can read others here.

Featured image credit: www.plumber-medford-oregon.com

In Dreams.

I originally wrote this one year ago today. This dream still haunts me. Today would have been my mother’s 65th birthday, but she died on April 22, 2010. I don’t have anything new in me today. Grief seems to grow more intense as the years pass. 

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Mom. 1971.

 

It was present day for me. But one look around my childhood living room told me it was still 1988 in there.  I was kneeling backwards on the old, 1970s style couch, looking out the window at the side yard.  We called this part of the yard The Garden.  The perimeter of the property had green chain-link, but the side yard of our corner property had a white picket fence separating my mother’s flower garden from the area where the kids played.

The garden was in full bloom.  Tiger lilies, black-eyed Susans, daisies, rose bushes.  There were plenty of other things I could never commit the names of to my memory.  But they were there, as they always were.

My mother walked towards the window.  How could this be?  She’s dead.  She shouldn’t be here.  She looked like the house did, like it was 1988.  She was 40.

MOMMY!!!  MOMMY!!

I screamed at her.  I pounded on the glass window to get her attention.  Tears pouring from my eyes, tears of joy to see her again, so young and healthy, so vibrant.  This was the only time in her life she looked this way.  This was the only time she almost seemed happy.  There was hope then.

I kept screaming, crying, pounding.  I reacted as though there was an immovable object keeping me from her.  I reacted as though her death was between us.

“Open the window, silly,” she said sweetly as she smiled, crow’s feet showing around her eyes.

I opened the window and it stayed up.  I didn’t have to use the piece of wood to hold it like I usually did.  I opened the old, dusty metal screen.  I reached out for her, calling out through tears, “Mommy! Mommy!”

I don’t ever remember calling her Mommy.  By 1988, I was 12.  I called her Ma.  Maybe Mom sometimes.  Never Mommy.

She reached out for me, too.  Our fingertips touched, then our hands.  I slid my arm up, holding her wrist.  Her gold bracelet draped over my fingers.

We stayed like that for a moment.  Our eyes met.  She looked at me with kindness and love in her eyes.  It seemed she was telling me things were OK.  Or would be OK.  It was reassuring.

Damn it, she never looked at me like that when she was alive.  Never.

She loosened her grip on me.  I tried desperately to hang on, leaning my body out of the window, reaching with my other hand.

Don’t go…

It was no use.  She faded away.

I sobbed and called out for her.  She was gone.

Then I woke up, my pillow drenched.

***
I had this dream a few weeks ago.  I dream about my mom at that age and of being in my childhood home often.  I’m always my present age.  I usually know, even in the dream, that it isn’t real and that grown-up me doesn’t belong in that house.
***

This is NaBloPoMo Day 17.

You can read more posts here.

Featured image credit: www.prepareforrain.com

It’s Too Late To Go With My Gut.

Did you ever hear a word and have the sneaking suspicion that maybe it means something that you’re not quite comfortable with?

Nathan has this giant stuffed peacock that he named Chiggy Cheeby Chavers. We just call him Chiggy, because we’re like family. I have to tell you that I hate this thing. I swear this kid picks out a toy and then deliberately tries to annoy me to death with it.

I was going to write a whole post about Chiggy and why I hate him. Here are the highlights:

1. He’s too big and he’s always in my face.

2. He screeches.

3. He bites people and then if he bites you, you will start turning blue and into a peacock. So you have to use a special “chig-lotion” to counteract the effects of Chiggy’s saliva.

4. Chiggy must be fed eleven pickles whenever he demands them or he goes crazy, which involves much screaming and destruction.

5. He lays eggs in Nathan’s closet and the babies all live in my garage. I’m supposed to go outside every night and feed them.

I will give my kid some credit, he has a good imagination. It’s unfortunate that he uses it for evil.

I decided to Google the word Chiggy before writing this post, just in case it did mean something we shouldn’t say in public. I probably should have done this right when I had the feeling about the dumb bird’s name, but I really didn’t think this phase would last so long. Urban Dictionary has several definitions for Chiggy. First is the name given to a couple on the UK version of Big Brother 8. Sometimes it’s used as a substitute for obscenities, which I guess isn’t really that big of a deal.

Another definition is “an absurdly cute animal.” Nathan thinks this thing is cute, so maybe he somehow knew that chiggy meant that. Who knows?

But now, here is where it gets bad. Oh, so bad. Stop reading right now if you are grossed out by disgusting sexual things. Here is the fourth definition, straight from Urban Dictionary:

“Chiggy is when a male pees in the females [sic] mouth, and slowly starts to drip out of her nose, creating a mixture of snot and pee. Then, she pukes all over the male. This period is called loop.”

I mean, I assume this is sexual, because ew. And why?  

A chiggy is also someone who is very good at physics but doesn’t speak English well. That is awfully specific. It’s also “a cute, cuddley [sic] ninja-type short person from Irish decent.” I don’t even know where to start trying to figure out what that means. Finally, it’s also “a fat poop inserted in one’s ear.” That just made me giggle, because it said poop.

I really wish I had told Nathan from the get go to change that stupid bird’s name. I had a feeling a chiggy wasn’t a good thing. But now it’s too late to go with my gut.

Nathan and Chiggy

Nathan and Chiggy

This is NaBloPoMo Day 16. You can read my fellow yeah writers here. I’m also adding this to the moonshine grid, which you can read here.