Smokey Mountain Breakdown

I go into the doctor today because I've had these icepick headaches for two months now. They've gone from being 3 minute crash-to-your-knees events but over quickly so easily ignored, to something akin to a migraine that requires I sleep on ice packs. Anyway. Can't ignore them anymore. My entire philosophy of survival with chronic illness is a delicate balance of denial and actually treating my problems. I've discussed this on the blog. It's all based on the idea that if you pretend nothing is wrong, then nothing will be wrong. Monty Python and the Holy Grail's Black Knight is my role model.



So, the crashing one-sided headaches have made it difficult for me to pretend nothing is wrong. Particularly since it's on the bad side of my brain. The left side. So a neurologist gets to be the latest in my merry band of medical caregivers. I don't know what they think he or she can do about this. But we must protect the brain because it's all I've got left.

But the nurse makes me get on the scale and I'm the fattest I've ever been. I'd gotten to a point where I was okay with my fatness, but damnit--it's not okay anymore. I don't look like me and yeah, I hate myself. Not in a weeping fat lady hanging all over Richard Simmons sort of way, but in a dark, emo, crawl into my cave because I'm Grendel the monster sort of way. Take up bulimia again, sort of way. But one of the library ladies is maybe giving me a treadmill so I can walk without fear of falling--so that's good.

Anyway. I'm completely owed a do-over. This life has obviously been one big fat karmic payback session because obviously I was some sort of monumental asshole in every previous incarnation I've had. Next time I want to be healthy and mildly stupid so stuff doesn't bother me so much. You know. Normal.