Midnight Headache

I was 5 minutes late for work this morning. I really have no excuse, but if I was going to blame it on something, I'd probably say I shouldn't have sat down and had a bowl of cereal before rushing out the door. Or maybe I shouldn't have added that half hour of core exercise to my workout. Or maybe it was the 4-mile run. But most likely, it was the fact that I got up at 6:11 instead of 5 a.m. That was because I was awakened at 11 by a sick kid.

I went to bed at 10 with big plans. I'd get up at 5. Write for an hour, run then do P90X before getting ready for work.
Around 11, I heard Tucker in the kitchen. He had gone down to the basement to watch TV around 9 and had fallen asleep. I didn't wake him when I went to bed.
He stumbled to my bed and sat down with a cup of water and two ibuprofen in his hands.
"Mom," he was out of breath. "Mom. I have the worst headache."
I put my hand up to his neck and felt how clammy he was.
"Help me, Mom," he said. "I can't stand this."
He slid down on the bed beside me. I wasn't very helpful. It sounded like a migraine. I told him he'd probably have to sleep it off. He could try to swallow the ibuprofen.
I squeezed what I thought might be a pressure point between his finger and thumb, but he couldn't be still the necessary 2 minutes. I tried the other hand.
"I'm going to throw up," he said and headed to the bathroom.
I finally got him to take the ibuprofen as he knelt before the toilet and that's when he started puking. A lot.
I spread a sheet on the couch and got him to move to the couch. I put an empty trash can beside him. I did the pressure point thing again. He lay still. A wet cloth for his forehead. He moaned in pain.
"I think I need to go to the hospital," he said.
As a mother, you wonder. What if I screw this up? I wasn't thinking meningitis. I was thinking migraine. So I sat beside him, holding his hand, until he relaxed some.
I texted warnings to his siblings and father who weren't home yet.
"DON'T TURN ON THE LIGHTS!" "DON'T MAKE ANY NOISE."
Around midnight he fell asleep and I switched my alarm to 6:05 a.m. Tucker was awake this morning as I got ready for work. He still had the echo of a headache. He ate some crackers.
So that's why I was late for work this morning.
What would you have done? Would you have taken him to the ER?

Flush

I hate diets. I believe that dieting is at the heart of gaining weight, at least for me. If I limit myself, saying I can't have that one cookie, then I crave cookies and I'll eat a ton.
So I've always tried to eat what I want in moderation and exercise a lot. The past few years, it has caught up with me. That's when my friend Sheila suggested the Fat Flush diet plan. I liked a lot of what the book said about detoxifying the liver and getting rid of wheat, dairy and sugar to see if it is causing the fatigue or allergy symptoms. Plus, the first part of the diet lasts two weeks.
Knowing I probably wouldn't make it two weeks, I decided to give it a try yesterday.
My morning routine includes preparing a press pot of coffee, steaming some milk and pouring the coffee in to make it a lovely tan color then adding a teaspoon of sugar. Well, the fat flush requires no caffeine for the liver to deal with. So my morning started with a cup of hot water and half a lemon. Not nearly as satisfying. And a nagging headache started behind my eyes as I drank the cranberry water concoction that is required - 64 ounces each day. When I drank the cranberry water with a tablespoon of flaxseed, I gagged on the thickness at the bottom.
Breakfast was two hard boiled eggs with some cumin for seasoning. That wasn't bad. Then I walked for an hour with Sheila, chasing along behind her little, speedy dog.
My headache was increasing as I made my way back home.
I steamed some broccoli, sliced a cucumber and opened a pack of tuna for lunch. Then I gave up and headed to the couch for a nap.
Still my headache kept increasing and I felt pressure behind my sinuses.
This detox thing is really clearing out my sinuses, I thought.
That's when I started throwing up and it finally became clear to me that the headache/migraine was connected to my monthly cycle rather than the Fat Flush diet. I lay in a dark room for most of the evening, getting up to puke.
I was feeling little better as 9 o'clock approached and thought I would drive to pick up Spencer from basketball, about 20 minutes away. As I stood up, I ran to the bathroom to throw up.
Flax seeds? Again? How could they still be in my stomach after all day?
I prayed I wouldn't throw up as I drove to get Spencer and his friend. I had left it too late to send Grace to get them. She avoids driving on the highway so it would have taken her much longer to get there.
This morning I am walking carefully, as if I carry a dozen eggs in my head that must not be broken. I am having a cup of coffee to see if I can knock that nagging pain.
I may try the Fat Flush diet again tomorrow or once I get to my parents' house in Florida Friday, but as for today, I can't face any cranberry water or flax seed.
If you want to read about someone not puking on the Fat Flush diet, check out Sheila's blog called Life's Many Colors. http://lifesmanycolors.wordpress.com/

Too Sick

Too sick to lie on the couch and watch TV. Too sick to read. Too sick to talk on the phone. That's how I felt yesterday. I could only lie in my bed with my hand over my face grasping the sides of my head. That and getting up to vomit were my only activities.
I woke up with a headache. Truthfully, it felt like what I remember from long ago hangover headaches. I decided to get over it. I had a glass of water while Grace got ready for swim practice. Then I popped two Advil before I woke Spencer up for basketball. I dressed, shoved my computer in a bag and determined to go to the coffee shop to write after I dropped him at school.
"Uhh," I moaned as we drove toward the high school.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"My head hurts so much I feel like I'm going to throw up."
I let him out and watched him trudge through the snow. Then I turned left toward the coffee shop. I sat in the parking lot for a few minutes, fighting the headache and nausea before I drove back home. I sat in the garage for a few minutes.
That's when I got that feeling in the pit of my stomach. You know the one. It means you had better run for the bathroom.
I got out of the car and grabbed my computer. I hurried up the sidewalk. Nope. I wasn't going to make it.
Tucker had carefully shuffled his name in the snow the night before. But it said TUKER with a little carat between the U and K to add the C he had forgotten. "Sorry, Tuck," I thought as I bent over the snow and threw up. I hoped none of my neighbors were outside.
I continued the walk to the house. Darn! I had locked the door. I puked once more in the brick flower box beside the back door. It was covered with snow so I hoped it would kind of wash things away.
When I finished in the bathroom, I threw my clothes on the floor and climbed into bed. My husband was still in bed.
"Don't talk to me. Don't touch me. I'm throwing up," I said.
And he said, "What?"
That's where I spent the day, vaguely wondering if this was a migraine with vomiting, or a stomach virus with headache.
The headache was definitely the worst part. Each time I leaned over the toilet, I thought, "Oh, please, don't let the kids catch this." They don't have the pain tolerance I do and I was miserable.
So yesterday, I didn't work on my novel, I didn't work out and I didn't get to see Spencer's basketball game,
I ate and drank nothing until about 6:30 when Tucker brought me half an inch of Seven Up.
About 8:30, I ventured out to the couch to watch the Wisconsin/Univ. of Miami game, only leaving it a few times to throw up again.
This morning, the headache was waiting for me, but not as severe. I feel it prodding me gently above my left eye. I might not get a workout in, but I've already had a cup of tea, so I hope for a more productive day.
Ugh! I hate being sick.

Time

What if you had one day left to live? How would you spend it?
Might you put the bikes on the back of the car and drive to a smooth bike path with some of the people you love?
That's what we did yesterday. We whizzed along the 11 miles, under shady trees and then beside tall corn fields. We watched the butterflies zig then zag to miss our zooming bikes and we saw the birds' shadows on the path as they soared overhead. We pretended we were the Pelloton and counted how long it would take to catch the breakaway leader. And at the end of the path, we pushed hard up a hill to get to the small town of Granville where an ice cream shop awaited. A glass of water with a lemon was the first relief, followed by a Coke float with the vanilla ice cream melting into the soda.
Then we turned around and glided down that same hill. We stopped at a wooden playground and pumped our legs on the swings until I knew my shoes would touch the clouds. I pushed Grace on a tire swing, her 5-foot, 9-inch body draped over the black rubber swing. Then we got on our bikes and continued the 11 miles back to the car. We sang songs from Disney movies and it was a real treat to hear Supercalifragilisticexpealidocious in French. The girls were moving at a snail's pace. I passed them for awhile and rode ahead. Earl had long since abandoned our slow ride and sped ahead of us.
The girls put on a burst of speed and caught up with me, panting and telling me that I was 2 minutes and 40 seconds ahead of the Pelloton before they caught me. We stopped for water and then they boxed me in, refusing to let me go ahead. So we sang songs from The Sound of Music and Beauty and the Beast.
The day was hot, high 80s, but as long as we were moving on our bikes we had a nice breeze. Earl turned around to look for us when we were about three miles from the end. The girls decided this was their chance to beat him to the finish line. They tried boxing him in, but got passed when they had to move to the right for an oncoming biker. In the end, they reached the parking lot first, and, amid much groaning and rubbing of butts, we drove home.
I picked up Tucker from his band practice for a taste test at the local research center. After I pocketed the $15, and he took the $10, I drove home again. My contacts were foggy and everything seemed blurry.
I took out my contacts and realized I was having a hard time focusing. It felt like I'd just looked into a camera flash. I tried to read my email but kept feeling like something was blocking my vision. I cut up some fresh tomatoes for a tomato and vinaigrette salad. Still, things danced in front of my eyes. Finally, I went to lie down.
Earl has had a similar experience twice. The doctors figured it was either a small piece of plaque that broke off and headed for his brain but instead went to his eye, or, their second opinion, was a visual migraine. So, I lay in bed, wondering if I was going to die. But, I didn't feel any pain. You can't really go to the emergency room when you aren't in any pain.
After awhile, I got up and my vision was better. I sat down in the living room where the girls had turned on the movie 17 Again. I watched and said, "Is that Zack Effron?" But the words felt funny coming from my mouth. Slurred almost. My brain felt fuzzy too. I looked at Matthew Perry and asked, "Is that the guy from friends?" But I really couldn't place him. Next, I felt a tingling in the fingers of my left hand. I kept moving my hand and trying to analyze with my fuzzy brain why my fingers would be feeling numb like they were falling asleep.
Finally, I sat by Grace. She leaned her head on me, and I thought if this is my last day, I just need to make sure my family knows I love them. So I kissed each of them. I told them to make good choices (well, I didn't tell Earl that).
"Is something wrong, Mom?" Spencer asked. And I just gave him an extra squeeze around his rock-hard middle.
Today, I feel fine. But, I might call my doctor just to see if she can fit me in. I'm not willing to go in for a bunch of tests, but I might sit down and write letters to the kids. Just in case. They'd start something like this: The most important thing you need to know is that I love you so much that my heart nearly bursts from it. It is so full with my love for you...
UPDATE: I went to the doctor this morning and she felt confident that what I had was a migraine with aura. The aura is the spots that blocked out my peripheral, and much of my straight ahead vision. She has these herself, although the aura usually precludes the onset of the migraine itself. She told me to get back to my vitamins and watch out for triggers. Thank God, I'm not going to die yet.
I told a friend that the doctor said it was a migraine with aura. She said, "Is that like a brain tumor with a free gift?" It's a different kind of benefit.