Posts Tagged ‘head ache’

Locked And Loaded

December 8, 2017

I am so ready to get through this weekend of classes.

Last one of the semester.

My books and notes and papers and readers are packed.

My lunch is ready.

Coffee is set.

I’ve done laundry.

My house is clean.

My head hurts, but that’s a story for another time.

I’ve been not feeling well now for a bit and I’m more than tired of it and sort of worn down by the low-grade constant ick I’ve been in now for over a week.

I have been taking some over the counter stuff recommended by the pharmacist and patiently waiting for my doctor appointment on, sigh, December 21st.

Although if it gets much worse I might pop into an urgent care.

When?

I don’t fucking know.

It’s not debilitating, but it’s low-grade constant pain and I’m really tired of it.

I can work, I have worked all week, I’ve seen clients, I just have been sick the entire time, again not enough to warrant calling out and it seems to be something that I am really going to have to speak to a doctor about, it’s not a cold or flu.

It does seem to be some kind of weird reflux thing and as such I’m taking the generic version of Zantac that the pharmacist prescribed until I could get into see a doctor.

I’m on a new health insurance.

Fuck I hate it.

I have to find a doctor on my own and nothing says fun times like waiting on hold while bad music plays for a very long time to only be told that the facility is not taking any new clients.

None.

UCSF.

Fuck you.

How can you not be taking new clients?

It’s a huge fucking facility.

But nothing.

And the amount of bullshit I went through to get to actually talk to a person was way beyond.

I called the number my insurance gave me only to get someone in accounting.

“Yeah, I keep getting calls from United Health Service, and yes, I do work for UCSF, but I’m an accountant.”

Well, that doesn’t fucking help.

The accountant gave me a number.

I called the number.

It was for a time share in Florida.

I shit you not.

I gave up that day, then tried again the next.

This time I found a number on UCSF’s website.

I called the next day only to be told that I needed to go on the website and then the machine hung up on me.

What the fuck?

Back to the website, a ton of digging and I finally got a number and found a list of doctors taking new clients.

I called every one of them.

Not a single one was seeing new patients.

I asked if I could get put on a wait list.

No.

Well what the fuck?

I was told to just keep calling back.

Are you for real?

Holy shit.

So.

I still have an appointment with the doctor I had called five weeks ago to be seen.

I was aghast that it was five weeks before I could be seen, but thank God I kept the appointment, or I would be another five weeks out.

I did also find the urgent care I can go to, it’s at Davies on Castro.

I am hesitant to go as I said it’s not an emergency, it’s just low-grade constant pain.

Ugh.

Anyway.

I will muddle through.

I will get through this weekend.

I will get all my papers handed in.

I will do my final group project on Saturday.

I will show up for class and participate.

I still have not done my dream reaction paper but I haven’t had a dream to write-up.

I’m hoping I get one tonight that I can do.

Otherwise I’m just going to have to piece something together.

I can probably also do an active imagination piece if I don’t have a dream to write on before the class on Saturday.

God, please let the medicine kick in.

Gah.

I think I’m just getting old.

Reflux, what the fuck.

I have to say, it is not fun.

But hey, it’s not cancer, or a broken leg, and my ankle’s doing better too.

Much better.

In fact, it’s funny, the appointment was made to check out my ankle and also my back and neither of those things will I be going in for.

In fact,  a week from tomorrow I’ll be seeing a chiropractor for the first time in about a decade, so the back thing will get worked out.

As for the ankle, just being careful and taking it easy on it and I will ask the doctor to check it out, but mostly I just want the reflux to stop happening.

It might be the most obnoxious health thing I have ever dealt with.

Anyway.

I hate complaining and I’ve pretty much kept this on the down low.

I did have a fit with my person on the phone about my inability to find a doctor to see me and he was the person who recommended I talk to a pharmacist and that was super helpful, and basically I just have to deal with this for two more weeks.

I’ll say one thing, it’s absolutely killing my appetite.

I have not felt like cooking much at all, rather had to force myself to make soup yesterday.

Just trying to be gentle with myself and take care of the next little things in front of me.

I’ll get through this.

There have been much harder things in my life to get through.

I’ve almost convinced myself.

Almost.

Heh.

Anyway.

Speaking of food, time for dinner.

And then winding down to get a good night sleep and get myself off to school in the morning.

It’s going to be a good weekend.

It’s the last one of the semester!

Thank God.

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Feeling Better

October 15, 2017

And almost through the weekend of classes.

The air quality improved substantially today.

So much better.

I have still had a low-grade cough, raw throat and tight and sore sinuses, but the air is better and tonight when I rode my scooter home I could take deep breaths and it felt so, so good.

There are still fires burning, but today felt like hope, that maybe there was an end in sight and that as the day passed things felt better and better.

I don’t know, I can’t predict a thing, but it was something to breathe better today.

The small things that I can take for granted, fresh air, good water, my home, it was with great gratitude that I drew those clean breaths of air, such goodness, just a big simple drawing in of air.

Ah.

I can feel my head ache easing and I know that the air quality has substantially improved.

This morning when I got up it was registering at unhealthy and there was ash again all over my scooter and a distinct smell of wood burning in the air, it was hazy and smudgy and smokey and my first class of the day was boxed up in a hot airless room.

But by the afternoon it started to shift and I left campus to grab lunch with a friend at The Market, the chi chi high-end grocery store in the Twitter building, they have a poke bar that I like to eat at if I’m going to blow a wad of money on lunch rather than eat the food that I brought with me.

I was happy to get out of the school building, the air felt fresher and it just continued to improve throughout the day.

So grateful.

So, so, so grateful.

And I’m also grateful that I only have one more class to get through tomorrow and that will put my squarely at the half way point of the semester.

I will have two more weekends of classes and then the winter break.

I’m doing pretty good, I’ve participated,  caught up on all my reading for this weekend, and I turned in the paper that was due for my Jungian Dream Work class.

I have a mid-term paper due on the 24th of the month for my Transpersonal class that I figure I will write the paper next weekend.

Then two more weekends of classes and I will enter the final semester of my Masters in Counseling Psychology.

Fuck.

I am doing this, I’m doing this, it’s really happening.

It’s been so much work and sacrifice.

I don’t always talk about that, the things that I have had to let go of to participate in the program while still working full-time.

I have given up going to birthday parties, out dancing, movies, fellowship, dates, dinner with friends, people and places and stuff that I used to do on a much regular basis.

It’s been hard.

I have felt sad when I have not been able to connect.

And yet.

I have spent so much time figuring out how to connect with people, with grace, with God, with service, with learning what I need to learn to better serve my community.

And.

Yes.

To have a fucking career where in I can make some money.

Oh.

I know, I’m not going to make a grand amount, but I am going to make so much more than what I make as a nanny, unless I get some super cush job, but the fact is, I’m ready to not be a nanny anymore.

I’ve a few more years and I’m fine with that, I still have miles and miles to go, but sure and steady, slow, one day at a time I am doing the work to get to the place.

And when I get there, well, there will be other places to go.

But.

For right now I am just really happy to be in my last year of the Masters program and to let myself be proud of what I have accomplished.

Showing up every weekend.

Turning in every assignment on time.

Straight A’s.

It’s awful nice to have a 4.0 average in grad school, just let me acknowledge that, I have a 4.0.

That’s something.

I have learned a tremendous amount about myself.

I have made dear friends.

I have a cohort, a group of peers, a community where I wasn’t expecting to have one, I have people who see me and regard me as an equal and who I get great feedback and validation from.

And I’m doing something that I don’t think anyone in my family has done.

I’m getting a Master’s Degree.

I could be wrong about that, I may have a cousin somewhere with one, but I can’t think of any off-hand, I don’t believe most of the people in my family have a college degree, let a lone a Master’s degree.

I feel pretty lucky that I have achieved what I have achieved and that I have put in the work.

Sometimes the sacrifices have seemed really hard, I have been lonely, I have missed experiences, but I also know that I am making myself into a woman with great potential to help and heal and that I will be of service for so many years.

I think I’ll have much more longevity as a therapist than a nanny, I’ll be able to practice as a therapist many, many, many years past the time when I would want to be a nanny anymore.

Hell, I’m pretty done with it as it stands.

Oh, not that I hate my job, I love the family  work for and I am so happy to get to do the work with them.

No, what I meant, is that my body is about done with it, my back is sore from carrying the baby in a carrier, my knees hurt, I have spent so many years being on my feet, from all the years, decades really, working in the service industry–started at 12 ended at 32, so that’s twenty years, and now the past eleven years or so as a nanny.

I could use a sit down job, thank you very much.

I once was having some real problems with my knees and I was young, in my mid twenties, and the doctor told me at that time that I needed to get out of the service industry, that I needed a sit down job, “your knees are that bad,” he told me showing me x-rays and explaining what the problems were.

I didn’t really heed that advice.

And I have managed to get by, sometimes a bit painfully slow, and I have seen things that have slipped past me that I wish I could still do.

No more running.

Not that I was a great runner, but I thought once or twice that I would at least do one marathon in my life

And dancing.

Oh.

Man.

I can tell how bad my knees are when I go out dancing, they are just not what they used to be, not that they used to be great anyway, but fuck.

Anyway.

I will go on standing for a little while yet.

I’m not there yet.

But.

Damn.

I am one more step closer.

I’ll take it.

Yes.

Yes, I will.

One little baby step at a time.

I will get there.

You may be assured.

Twelve Hour Headache

March 14, 2017

Seriously.

Go away.

I’m on my second dose of 600 milligrams of ibuprofen.

I’m not a happy lady.

I’m also not horrified, it’s not a migraine.

It’s annoying, it hurts, but it’s not a migraine.

And for that I am hella grateful.

It’s been a few years since I have had a migraine and I certainly don’t need to start now.

I used to get them as a kid, but didn’t know that’s what was happening.

I just thought I had really bad head aches.

I was finally diagnosed with them in my early to mid-twenties.

“I don’t think you have migraines,” the doctor told me looking over some paperwork as I sat on the table in the examining room at the clinic.

“I do think that you have some issues that need to be addressed, however,” he said, looking up from the clip board.

Then he told me a story about people who smoke.

Now.

At that time I was definitely smoking.

Not my all time high, that would have been in Iowa when I was living in Newton and bartending at Boots and Spurs, Iowa’s Largest Country Western nightclub (I shit you not, they even had a mechanical bull), I could smoke behind the bar and would find myself going through a pack and a half to two packs a day.

Of course I left many a cigarette smoldering in an ashtray as I was slinging drinks, oh so many margaritas and pitchers of Bud Lite, but still, I was smoking a lot.

At the time I was seeing this doctor I must have been slightly younger than I was first thinking, as I was still with the boyfriend of five years and I was working at the Essen Haus as their General Manager.

I couldn’t have been more than 23 years old, 24 years old, tops.

I don’t recall a lot of the conversation, but I remember how he told me a story, the doctor did, about himself and when he had been a cigarette smoker and how he smoked to cope with emotional issues.

I think he was hinting at I needed psychological help rather than medical help.

And he was right.

And.

I still wanted him to go through with the exam.

I still had headaches, which I was pretty sure might be migraines, despite the doctor telling me that the pain I was experiencing did not corroborate a migraine diagnosis.

We did talk for a while and he got a lot of my family history and then he said, “well, you’re here, we might as well do a quick exam and check you out.”

He listened to my heart.

Checked my throat.

Shined a light into my eyes.

“Well, look at that,” he whistled softly, “you do get migraines.”

It turns out that there were broken blood vessels on the backs of my eyes that indicated migraines.

“You have stress migraines,” was the doctor’s diagnosis.

I was given a prescription.

I don’t recall what it was for.

But.

I do know that I filled it and I followed the directions and it worked.

I had to take it at the first sign of a migraine for it to be effective and I wasn’t able to figure out what my body was telling me the first couple of times after I had the medication to dose myself in time.

I had what I learned to call “pre-migraine” symptoms, but I didn’t recognize them right away.

Until.

One day I did.

And it was a revelation.

I was able to take the medication before the migraine landed.

It was miraculous.

I had migraines on and off over the years, but they eventually tapered off.

I stopped taking medication for them over 12 years ago.

My stress levels have decidedly changed over the years, and I have learned how to manage it better, so I know this is not a stress migraine, but it is a bad headache.

What I am hoping is that it is just that, not whatever cold was going around at school.

One of my professors showed up sick the first two days of class and got progressively worse over the weekend and had to call in by Sunday.

I am, however, not feeling anything but pain in my right temple.

I think I just have a nasty headache and hopefully, my dinner will kick in, the ibuprofen will kick in and some nice hot tea will help.

Plus a full night’s sleep.

These things will turn the trick I am certain.

I hope so anyway.

I meet with my internship supervisor tomorrow to fill out paper work after I get done with work and I am also going to be interviewing him for a class project I am doing for Community Mental Health.

I would like to be on point.

So.

With that.

I am going to wrap this up.

Do some self-care.

Get some rest.

Night y’all.

Sweetest dreams.

 

Not Tonight, Dear

September 28, 2013

I have a headache.

Serious.

If I was dating someone I would not be having sex right now.

I might be curled up in a fetal position asking for some cold ice water and a few ibuprofen.

But not blog?

Fuck, I can’t quite do it.

I am tired, which is most to do with a couple of back to back long shifts, but hey, you know what, rent, she is paid.

I made enough in the last few days to cover rent for the next month and have a few bills left over to do a little grocery shopping.

And next week I have full-time work as well.

Plus, I confirmed that I do indeed have an interview on Sunday for a possible position.

I still think they are going to pass on my services, but whatever, take the action, let go of the results.

Which should be the thematic for tonight’s blog.

Take the action let go the results.

I feel the results might be shite, but I write nonetheless.

As I was standing at the N-Judah stop in Cole Valley I listened to the conversation of a trio of French men and thought, well, at least I don’t have to figure out what they are saying, although I sort of wanted to, then I wanted to wittily say something about the conversation they were having.

But they weren’t just French, they were Parisian and that accent and the rapidity of the words, not a conversation I was about to butt into, without making a complete ass of myself.

My tired self.

My tired head ache self.

God I don’t want to finish writing this.

I wonder if I am coming down with something.

I think, though, it is just the hallucinatory feeling of being tired and sort of wired at the same time.

The weekend is upon me and I wonder what I will be doing.

And whom I may be kissing.

OH.

My favorite J. Davis Trio song just came on, “Breath of a Tiny Dragon”.

My head ache could fade off a little here.

Nostalgia.

So much for this song and all the layers of memory and feelings I have when I hear it.

First, I love it, well, because the female doing the vocals sounds a bit like me, she’s doing more of a spoken word vibe then singing, and she does sound like me, or I like her.

There were people back in Madison that actually thought it was me.

I have had people here in San Francisco hear the song and think it was me.

Nope.

But I can certainly sing the hell out of this song.

I love me some J. Davis Trio.

Wish they would do a West Coast tour and bring it up North to San Francisco or even Oakland, anywhere Bay Area would be hella tight.

Shit, I might even go down to San Jo to catch them.

I digress.

My fingers feel funny.

I think maybe I am a little hungry?

Uh, hmm, yeah, duh, I am.

I haven’t eaten my little night snack.

I have such a routine around it though, I always write my blog before I have one last nibble and one last cup of tea.

It’s my ritual.

How the hell am I going to be in a relationship when my blog gets more action than I do?

I suppose I am jumping the gun a little on that one.

Hey!

The Mister’s horribly busy work week ended today.

I told myself, no expectations, no regrets, no resentments, no getting let down.

I do that, I get all worked up and excited and then the let down.

Nope.

I say he’s busy and will be taking the weekend to recover.

I can wait until Tuesday.

Oh yeah, and what was that epiphany I had at Burning Man?

I am the ball.

No more chasing.

The man knows where I live, heck he was the first man to be in my home, he helped move me in, he helped me put together the bed from Ikea, he kissed me on the mouth, soft, soft, sweet, sweet, like persimmons that surprise you with cream and cinnamon in their orange pumpkin hearts.

Sigh.

Head ache is waning.

Is it the ritual?

Is it the compilation of words, or is it now, good Ipod shuffle!

The Belbel Gilberto on the player.

Who knows.

Maybe, perchance, it is because the words pile up and I am relieved to see that I have committed to my commitment once again.

See, I would, oh Chet Baker, I do fall in love to easily too!

I fall in love too terribly hard, for love to ever last.

My heat should be well schooled, because I have been fooled in the past.

I fall in love so easily, I fall in love too fast.

See, easily distracted.

Or dehydrated.

Or tired.

Or sore.

Definitely a little sore too.

I did not actually ride my bicycle in to work today, I caught a ride in with my room-mate.  We hit Trouble for some morning coffee to celebrate a significant anniversary in her life and then she dropped me off at the first nanny gig in the Castro.

I walked from 19th and Sanchez to Cole and Frederick today.

That may also explain some of the fatigue.

I walked a lot, with both my boys, in strollers at different times and then just by myself, because, why, well, I like to walk.

I am on my bicycle so much that I like to take a day off once in a while, slow down, stop and smell the roses.

Or touch the tress.

Seriously.

I do not know what compelled me.

Yeah, I’m crying over you.

I’ll be your saviour steadfast and true.

I’ll come to your emotional rescue.

Is it cheating to just write down the song lyrics to the music I am listening to?

Who cares!

It is strangely applicable and soothing.

As soothing as the bark on the tree I stopped to touch.

I stopped, reached my hand out and looked up into the canopy of leaves, the dappling sun flashing through to throw shadows of dark green on the rich velvet grass.

I sighed and sniffed the air.

I think the Japanese tourists who walked by thought I was high on acid or something.

The girl giggled.

I just smiled back.

I can stop and pet a tree once in a while.

What?

They say, who “they” are is beyond me, but you know what I mean, that sex is the best cure for a headache, that having an orgasm will eradicate one.

The paradox, of course, being that you don’t want to strip down and get naked and intimate and sexy.

But you know what, my head ache is almost gone.

And my blog is done.

Nighty night.

 

I love you baby, and I always will.

Ever since I put your picture in a frame.

I love you baby, and I always will.

Head Ache

September 11, 2013

I have had a head ache since right before I left work.

I keep telling myself I did the best I could, I am doing the best I can.

But despite my best efforts one of the babies bit the other baby and it broke my heart telling the mom.

I also felt like I did not respond in the way that was comforting.

I was also wiped out.

Not one of the three took a real solid nap today.

Nappus Interruptus.

When wee monkeys don’t have enough sleep and don’t feel like they are getting the kind of attention they deserve, shit can crumble fast.

I was on top of it, I really was, I was running up and down the stairs like a fucking sprinter, changing diapers, warming bottles, feeding this one and that one.

I had just gotten a re-settled down group when I smelled the offending smell.

Albeit a rather pleasant one as far a baby shit goes, let’s be frank here folks, some kids eat better than others, and this group of babies is super healthy, but yes, it still smelt and it was time to run upstairs to change this one.

Two of the babies use the compostable diapers and their parents have a service they use.

The other baby uses cloth diapers.

The other baby has to be changed upstairs, but now that I am writing this, I wonder, I could set something up, not that I can change anything that happened today.

I cannot.

The best I can do is forgive myself for not being super human and having 18 sets of hands.

At least I saw what happened and I responded immediately.

Thank god, I had just finished with the changing of the cloth pants.

Yeah, get over it, I am writing a blog about poo and if you can’t handle it, go read something else (the poo will finish in a moment), occupational hazard, you could say.

I was setting the fresh diapered child down on the mat on the floor, one of those awesome cushion ones that have interlocking puzzle pieces, when one baby leaned into the other and bit down on the little baby mouth.

I saw it happen like it was in slow motion.

I almost screamed at the child.

I held my breath, dropped to me knees, pulled them gently apart and scooped the smaller baby into my arms, who for just a moment I wondered, did the bite happen, there was pure silence.

Then the wail of terror and hurt.

It was horrendous.

I calmed the child down and it happened so fast that I did not think that the bite was a bad as it later appeared to be.

I took the other child and popped the baby into the crib, immediate time out.

I did not yell.

I did not scream.

I breathed deeply, soothing the other baby, and spoke in an even, saddened voice, expressing my thoughts on how we don’t bite the people we care about, how it hurts, that we are loving and kind and gentle.

The child understood and was so abashed I wanted to hold them both and soothe both at the same time.

While the third looked on in wonder, what the hell is happening?

And that makes me wonder, am I not cut out for three?

Is it just too much?

I felt rotten, but not as bad as when the second mom picked up her child.

I had examined the bite and did not see broken skin or bleeding.

The baby fed really well afterward, another bottle and a half and a pouch of pureed food, and had a third nap, waking happy and bouncy and wanting to interact with the other children.

But when examined the bite had swollen up, there was a red demarcation on his upper lip and it was obvious how hard the bite had been.

I was horrified and cue the instantaneous head ache which has throbbed in my brain since the mom took her child.

Worst nanny ever.

Just quit.

Then I thought, they are never going to want me to nanny again.

Then, the thought that saved my ass, if that happens, you will still be taken care of.

You are not being dropped.

You are not perfect and you cannot expect yourself to be.

I felt some relief at this, but the head ache had settled in for the duration.

It is also, come on, admit it, Martines, the stress of moving.

I moved yesterday.

I have been on the move for a really long time.

I am not settled yet, I am not in my sweet spot yet, I don’t have a bed yet.

Yes, there’s a blow up mattress, with a slow leak, ack, but fortunately, it is slow, that I have to sleep on.  And my friend has said we can make a run to Ikea on Thursday.

I will just get a bed there and assemble it and be done with it.

I am tired of looking on craigslist.

I just want a bed.

And a few other things to make the space more of a home.

Things will come together, the head ache will pass, I will forgive myself.

Really, I already have.

I did the best I could.

I was not putting the baby in a room with a rabid dog.

It was another sweet child.

Things happen.

I cannot protect them every second of every day.

Neither can their parents.

Sigh.

Sometimes I wish I could, I wish that there was no pain, no sorrow, no suffering.

I wish that teething didn’t hurt and that there was always cuddly nap time and good story telling, that poking and pinching and pushing and biting didn’t happen.

But they do.

I don’t believe that it is ever done, especially at this age, with malice, no child bites like that maliciously.  It is a call for attention.  It gets a reaction.

I have been bitten by every single child I have taken care of.

EVERY one.

I knew a nanny that got so fed up with a child she was taking care of that she bit the child back.

I have not and never will do that.

Never hit, never bite, never slap, or shake.

Just doing the best I can in the only way I know how.

I think it is more heart ache than head ache.

But the pain remains the same.

Funny, how, both children have probably forgotten, but it sits here on my chest like a weight of doom.

Gotta let it go, it does not serve.

Besides I have another day tomorrow to work and be present and that starts by taking care of myself, and that means, the hot shower, the cup of tea, the apple, and the wind down.

Grateful for the experience.

Grateful more for knowing that forgiveness of self is how to move past this.

There is no other way through.

But through.

 


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