Unfortunately, I don’t know exactly what that means. It has been well over two years since the headache from hell was diagnosed as essentially incurable, and going on seven years since it first reared its ugly head. Every day I wake up in pain. OTC pain relievers stopped working for me years ago, and prescription narcotics don’t do much beyond make me dizzy, because I am one of those lucky few who are immune to the effects of opiates. Yay. There are many days when I wish to die, and the only thing that stops me from killing myself is that I don’t want to traumatize my son. I figure if I can just hold on for another 6 years or so, he’ll be old enough to understand a little better. Then again, maybe he won’t understand and won’t care. It’s not as if I’m a part of his life now. He lives with his father in the next state over, and if I’m lucky, I can afford to see him once or twice a year. It’s probably best that he doesn’t have to deal with me on a regular basis, because it’s not fair to a child to have to take care of their own parent.
In the past couple weeks, the pain has been intensifying. The only thing that seems to help is to sleep, so I take a lot of naps. I’d say it’s a lot like dying from cancer, but I haven’t experienced that yet, so I don’t know if it’s true or not. Unfortunately, I also suffer from insomnia, so taking naps sometimes interferes with my ability to actually sleep at night when I’m “supposed to” be able to. It sucks that life works that way. My Kindle has saved my sanity, for the most part. When I’m laying in bed at the boyfriend’s house and he’s sound asleep, I can read all night without disturbing him. I still prefer paper books to electronic, but they’re impossible to read in the dark without a light.
veritas and balderdash 