In September, I made myself a giant to-do list. I put every single thing I could think of on it, and it really helped me organize and prioritize. I didn't get completely caught up, but I got a lot closer than I had been in weeks. That list is obsolete now. I'm fairly certain that without a whole new list, nothing is going to be accomplished this month. I'm going in so many different directions at once, I can't even focus on a blog long enough to write a post. Geez, for that matter, I can't focus long enough to write a to-do list. I've been meaning to do it all day, and the closest I've gotten is bringing a spiral notebook to bed with me. I tossed it off to one side, without word one written down.
I had been waiting for an insurance approval that could help me with this complete lack of focus, not knowing that it was waiting for me in my health account. I'm sort of excited about the treatment the neurologist and I have settled on. After throwing out the idea that the typical medications prescribed for fibromyalgia could work for both that and this "silent migraine" that he tells me is responsible for paresthesia, vertigo, and mental fog (it was I who nixed the drugs, because they are all responsible for weight gain, and I've got enough of that going on, thank you very much), he suggested that botox into the muscles of the head and/or neck could interrupt the migraine processes. I think this is an excellent plan, not because I think I need this stuff injected into my face to look younger. I'm quite comfortable with my skin and appearance from the neck up. What I want is for this to help some of the muscles that have been contracted for so long, I have stopped being sure where muscles stop and bones begin. My poor massage therapists over the years have hurt their hands trying to make the concrete in my shoulders relax for just a few minutes, at least until they can get me off of their tables and out of their lives. This has been a problem for me for more than twenty-five years. I recall being pregnant with my younger daughter, when our good friend thought he was being helpful by trying to rub my shoulders. He didn't know that they were so sensitive about being squeezed that I'd cry in pain and drop to my needs, but that is exactly what I did. I don't think there has been more than a combined 24 hours since then when these muscles were spongy and soft. I see my regular therapist (Slow Hand) tomorrow, and I'll tell him how much my neck has been stiff and my shoulders have been aching, and he will try very hard to make it relax for the afternoon. And by nightfall, the cycle will start all over again. I look forward to telling him about the botox idea. I don't want to get his hopes up needlessly, if it doesn't have the effect of softening that concrete just a little, but I feel like I ought to offer up some glimmer of hope that it might.
A few days ago, on the way to the car, I saw that there were a whole bunch of butterflies in our front yard. Our flower gardens were covered in them. I was able to get up close and take several pictures, thinking this was a one-time occurrence. Au contraire. They have been all over the place -- not just in my yard, not just in my town, but so thick all over the state that a flock of them (is that right? "flock" of butterflies?) showed up on weather radar. I feel like I should go take more pictures while the migration is occurring. I haven't yet. I'll put that on my to-do list.
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