At no point during the entire day did I find inspiration to do anything. I mean anything. I didn’t lie on my bed, doing nothing but breathing, as if I were stuck in a coffin, no. I just didn’t want to do any of the things I did. There was no enjoyment, no enthusiasm. Every time I stood up and walked around, my muscles stayed overly tight and they fought me. I had to jump up every few minutes, because the Mr had several requests of me, and I also didn’t want to say no. But the moment he no longer needed my assistance, I plopped back down. I didn’t want to go anywhere, so I never actually put on pants. I ate only because my body demanded it, but I only chose things that required zero effort. It was just one of those days.
I found one thing I was willing to do for myself, in spite of being told not to do it. I eventually had enough of tight muscles, so I put a water-repellent moisturizer on my radiation-irritated scar, and climbed into the hot tub. I sat out there long enough that the lights in the tub shut off, and I activated them for another round. The warmth didn’t help as much as I hoped, but once there, I didn’t want to get out. At one point I smelled what I thought was someone smoking in the alley, but then the smell changed, and it made me think of being at an amusement park. It reminded me of cotton candy and midways.
As I sat and contemplated the images the smells were dredging up for me, it occurred to me what was happening. All day long, I had been fighting a migraine, but it wasn’t simply the normal headache kind, so I didn’t recognize it. It messed with all of my senses and made me grumpy. There was a headache too, but it wasn’t strong enough to stand out over my ridiculously stiff leg and arm muscles. Slowly I put the pieces together. All of the oncologists told me not to get my Botox for migraine injections while I was doing the other treatments. So when the Mr smoked meat for a chili cook off he is entering this weekend, one of my old migraine triggers hit me again, after years of leaving me alone.
I will most likely feel fine tomorrow. Probably. And in a couple of weeks when I see the oncologist for my next phase of treatment, I will ask her whether I’m allowed to go back for the migraine shots. I’m ready to resume them.
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