Saturday, August 4, 2007

I Don't Want My Brain Measured

6 AM Saturday. The husband is just home from the graveyard shift. I have an issue, if you will.

moi: soooo. . .
the husband: yes, honey? ***the "now what" interruption***
moi: is it possible that my left eye can spontaneously combust? ***it happens to zombies***
the husband: no.
moi: ? ? ? ***he didn't even think about my question***
moi: seriously, there is absolutely no way that my eyeball will just. . . .um. . . . explode?
the husband: no, honey. ***it's not the 9th wonder of the world***
moi: but if it did. . . .would you put it back together again?
the husband: no.
moi: youwouldnothelpmeputmyeyebacktogetheragainifitexplodedandrandownmyface?! ***shock***
the husband: no.
moi: you wouldn't help me? ***ow***
the husband: no, I'd call an Opthamologist. ***the baba ghanoush special***
moi: - - - ***pouting***
the husband: do you have another headache?
moi: itfeelslikemyeyesgonnagokablooey! ***where's my mom***
the husband: I'm sorry, honey.
moi: but what if my eye did explode. . . ?
the husband: it can't.
moi: but what if it did?
the husband: it can't.
moi: but if it did spontaneously explode. . . .
the husband: unless you poke it, it cannot do that. ***chuckling***
moi: so you're saying that my. . . .
the husband: yes, I'm saying that your eye is not going to spontaneously combust, as you so put it.
moi: Imagine, if you will, my eye going boom right now, 'cos it feels like it will and it's goes to the back of my head.
the husband: it's not going to go boom right now. Did you take your medication?
moi: but how do you know?
the husband: I just know.
moi: but how?
the husband: because I do.
moi: well, if it did, would you put a cow eye in to fix my eye?
the husband: no.
moi: youwouldn'tputacoweyeintofixmyeye?! ***you're the cause of my breakdown***'
the husband: you can't.
moi: why?
the husband: you can't repair the optic nerve. Once it's severed it's severed.
moi: what if I found a donor?
the husband: it still won't work.
moi: why?
the husband: because you cannot repair the optic nerve.
moi: so, if my eye pops right now, there's nothing you can do?
the husband: I'd put a patch over it. ***ear-to-ear grin****
moi: - - - ***that's. not. funny.***
moi: would you put a fake wooden one in my eye socket like that guy from "The Pirates of the Caribbean"?
the husband: yes, I would ***laughter***
moi: awww. . . . I love you
the husband: I love you too
***silence for 27.9 seconds***
moi: . . . .but what if it just so happened that my headache forced my eyeball to. . . . ***pursuit of insistence***


So, I've been stressed a bit lately. Aside from the fact that Mr. Friendly will be visiting soon, which, I have to point out, always intensifies my "pressures" as well as causes a severe tension headache. I'd also like to state that I. am. never. cranky. or. acquire. dissociative. identity. disorder. during this time of the month. Ever. So, back off. But, as is customary, I diverge from my all important misery. A misery in my head is technically only a 24-hour burden that occurs in my PMS'ing stage. So, at least it's quick - maybe not to the husband, but beggars cannot be choosy and I say it's abrupt, so it is. Please note that other stressful events; however, can tend to trigger head-splitting, but these are rare instances. Mine is mostly a womanly associated thing. It's great. Let me tell you how great it is.

It's so great,that this fantastic womanly adventure is an affliction that burdens me more than I'd care to carry. Well, in the very least 13.04 times per year. . . . An encumbrance, of which I'd like to point out here, where the husbands' (and my) wonderful, awe-inspiring, fabulous and just out-right phenomenal insurance company has deemed unnecessary for me to have medication for. In fact, I'm not covered for this type of alleviation for 2-years - or so they have informed me - at which time they will reevaluate my need for such a blah, blah, blah, yaddy, yaddy, yaddah. I'd also like noted, that this is a medication I need and will consume (understand, that there is not much more in this world that I dislike than to take medicine. My body is my temple. Uh. Right. Whatever. I find myself taking more as I grow old, cumbersome and crotchety, but I do dislike taking any sort of med's, I can't explain why, I just do. The husband is educating the masses. . . er. . . me, but it takes time to erode rocks, people. Geesh.)

Anyhow, in an effort to go with the insurance companies advice, I once tried to not medicate myself for my head pain. After 4-days I was laid out [flat] in bed, sick to my stomach where "cranium-splitting-worse-than-your-worse-hangover-x's-52" doesn't even do the description justice. I couldn't take it anymore. The husband couldn't take it anymore. Phone calls were made. Med's were finally ordered. 16-hours of timed dosages later, I was feeling right in the ole noggin' once more.

Finally, I should admit that I do try to will it away on more than just this one occasion, but I will not go past 12-hours of pain. Never again will I torture myself for 4-days. "If I just rest, relax, think pretty pink princessy thoughts and it'll go away" does not work for me. I have to refrain from my impetuousness and take my medicine, because I know it does my thinker good. Or so I have learned.

Either way, all that is neither here nor there. I just wanted you all to know that I'm still here. A bit pained, but still on earth in our Longhorn city. I'm just stressed and heavily medicated so I know not what I say. Maybe I should start doing shots?


Alli said...

Why you so stressed, chica?

You get migraines, eh? What meds ya on? The aspiring PA wants to know. Your doc ever try any of the antinausea meds like Reglan to help abort the pain? just curious.

Jen said...

I am stressed b/c I chipped my nail polish on my big left toe! This doesn't happen to princesses. . .

Ok, ok, ok. . . that's not why I'm stressed. I'm not right in my ole block b/c I had been trying for a very long time to get this house in order. De-clutter, if you will. The husband and I finally finished after a week (but I've been going for much longer than a week) in getting the house endurable and comfy. All rooms can safely be open for public as well as have the doors to them continuously open! Give me a hug!

In short; however, things that cause/d me grief - some are now ancient sorrows; some are still tormenting me:

~ mail (since January) piles are finally disposed of (do you know how much mail the medical professions receive? ? ? Just you wait my little pretty!)

~ we are 99.9% unpacked from our move, the 3rd bedroom is livable (no longer a storage unit - needs a couple coats of paint, but definitely now habitable).

~ the entire inside of the house needs a few coats of paint, as does the outside. But I finally have a plan to all of the above.

~ our backyard is a swamp of a mess. Should have left well enough alone. The grass we just bought (11 pallets) is dying. Dogs spread mud throughout the entire home after just going potty. Depressing.

~ trying hard to stay in shape to lose those few stubborn pounds (doesn't seem to be working. . . .ugh.) Frustrating.

~ I've agreed to take the position, which will land me employed for, like, ever (begin towards the end of August; happy, excited and anxious all at once)

~ finally, but not least my mom and niece arrive today for an extended stay here (mom leaves before the niece). Exciting, but lots to do to get the place ready for their arrival.

. . . and there you go.

Ian said...

Oh, I hate when I chip my nail polish. Have you tried my old family recipe? We call it 'booze'.

Alli said...

Congrats on accepting the position. That's great!

Hope your visit is going well with the mom & niece. :)

mindy said...

I know a guy whose sister's best friend's niece's daughter had an eye explode once. Totally.

Congrats on the new job - even though it is stressing you out. I bet it'll be great...and maybe provide some blog fodder??

Emmeline said...

got here from Cynical Bastard - just wanted to say that I have had similar conversations with my boyfriend, who is an aspiring scientist, and I therefore love to ask him all sorts of 'what-ifs' and 'how-does-this-work' questions that he doesn't really like to answer!


Buffy said...

Why does it seem so hilarious when it's not me having the conversation.


Emmeline said...

I read a few of your other posts, and I just wanted to let you know that I totally identify with you on the getting carded thing. I am only 23, so I'm not allowed to think it's insulting yet because 23 is still within the reasonable asking range.

BUT, I've been getting it my whole life - when I was 16, I looked 13. When I was 18, I looked 15. 21, looked 16. Now? People guess 18, if I'm lucky. I don't just get carded for clubs and alcohol, I get carded for R-rated movies! I mean come on! The teenie-bopper stage is behind me! I no longer need to sneak into R-rated movies!

I agree with you - it's not a compliment, it's just damn irritating! It is definitely an affliction!

mindy said...

I am starting to worry that your eye has really exploded and you are in the hospital! Where ARE you?!

Alli said...

She's probably busy-busy with her momma & niece. I bet. ;) She's being a good daughter/aunt/hostess.

Jen said...

Ian: booze has helped! For sure.

Emmeline: Welcome to my Texaconsindivaness! Thanks for stopping by. I agree, driving the husband insane with mundane questions is completely awesome! Getting carded while in the 7th anniversary of my 29th birthday is bothersome on so many different levels.

Buffy: Thank you to you as well for coming to my blog! I hope you both keep reading now and then. I have some good conversations with the husband only because he thinks I'm thoroughly insane in the membrane.

Mindy: My eyeball has not spontaneously combusted as of yet. I'm still waiting for this medical malady to occur. . . .

Alli: Yep. Been spending time with the kid and Mom C.!