Muddling Through the Migraines

Welp, I saw the new neurologist this week at the Headache Clinic in a nearby hospital. The fact that the neurologist actually said “Whoa, that’s a lot” when I told her how many migraine days I have per month was a bit offputting and borderline amusing. So now I try a new drug and I will be going back to the Headache Clinic for what is called an occipital nerve block. Essentially, they will be injecting anesthetic and a steroid into the muscles above my neck in the back of my head. The hope is that with repeated sessions of nerve blocks, the inflammation causing the migraines will reduce. My neurologist is hoping it will present a 50% reduction in my headaches, which doesn’t sound great, but when you say 10 headache days per month instead of 20, that is huge.

I now muddle through the beginnings of yet another new medication course that again has a whole lot of expectation riding on it’s chemical shoulders. Having a game plan has eased my mind at least a little, but depression still lingers in the background, a wisp of darkness I see in my peripheral vision, just waiting to take over. The usual worries about money lurk and working overtime this week has left me bone tired.  Work itself has been it’s own bizarre stressor of late. Clashing personalities, power struggles and just being plain busy have amounted to one big mess. I do the best I can to leave it at the door when I get home, but honestly, the emotional overeating/binge eating is making a comeback. Lucky for me, being poor means you can’t buy all the Halloween candy at the store and my food allergy prevents me from eating an entire cheese danish, much as I would like to.

Interestingly, in the midst of all this, God has given me yet another reason to stop and say to Him “You have a wacky sense of humor” by reviving that thing I thought was dead, namely my heart. Too soon to really tell you all much suffice to say it’s not The Paramour.

I’d like to thank everyone who read, shared and commented on my last post. It means a lot to know I’m not alone in my suffering. I don’t particularly buy into the whole “creative genius stems from mental illness” thing, which means to say I know I’m not a great writer by any means so it does mean a lot when someone says “me too” based on my rambling stream of words. I also really appreciate everyone’s suggestions and love to see the little bit of community that sometimes pops up on a blog’s comment stream.

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