A Lost Weekend And Monday Songs

A song-list (video quality will vary) that says a whole lot more about me than anything to do with Mondays … except that it’s yet another rainy Monday …

8pm Friday night … I’m trundling along, minding my own business when I noticed a certain sparkle out of the corner of my eye. Turns out that was in the corner of my eye. That familiar and slightly nauseating ‘cracked glass’ vision distortion that is a migraine’s harbinger.

I do my usual, swallow a couple of pseudoephedrine so they take effect as the headache part of the migraine takes hold. If I’m lucky this’ll be a mild one. I’m not lucky.

I reschedule, cancel, and otherwise rearrange all plans for the weekend.

4am Saturday morning … I can finally lay down without feeling like I’m going to throw up.

7.30pm Saturday evening … I’m chatting with Mrs Widds when suddenly half of her face disappears in a soft blur of colour that is the harbinger of the ‘cracked glass’ effect.

Yes folks, we’re in a cluster. My personal best is five migraines in four days. I morbidly wonder if I’ll break my record.

More pseudoephedrine. I try to keep any pharmaceuticals down to a minimum. Decades of painkillers for my knees have taken their toll on my gizzards.

I break out the hot water-bottles. One on the back of my neck and one on either side of my head. This helps me relax my shoulders and head muscles that I squinch up into tight knots in a futile effort to subvert the crushing pain inside my skull.

4am Sunday morning … I can finally lay down without feeling like I’m going to throw up.

3pm Sunday afternoon … I surface long enough to eat a piece of toast and delicately sip a cup of tea, both of which stay in my stomach long enough to satisfy minimal blood-sugar requirements. Soon thereafter I crawl back into bed.

Weekend. Done. Now it’s Monday … and it’s still raining.

Three Things That Happened On Monday

Last year I had a flu shot for the first time, not because I’d reached a ‘certain age’ but because the year before I’d managed to spend most of my time being in the throes of, or recovering from, lung and phlegm related lurgys. All I had to go out my front door and I’d catch every virus within a hundred kilometer radius. For the whole of last winter or all this year, nary a lurgy raised it’s ugly head, so not wanting to break my winning streak I decided it was time to renew my subscription.

Monday was the day I’d picked to do the deed.

At 3am on Monday morning a migraine woke me up. Thankfully it wasn’t a skull-crushing galaxy-buster, as they usually tend to be, and once some painkillers kicked in I managed to convince myself to go back to sleep. I felt a little delicate when I woke up at the crack of 10.30am but not enough to scuttle my plans.

My arm ached a moderate amount after the flu shot so I ambled off to the Tim Hortons coffee shop just around the corner from my doctors office for a restorative french vanilla coffee and some timbits. (timbits are the tasty bits they cut out of the center of doughnuts)

Whilst chomping on the gooey wonderfulness at the center of a timbit, I thought I felt the crown on one of my teeth wobble. By my third timbit I knew without a doubt the crown was loose. Having already swallowed a crown from this very tooth some years back, I reluctantly put my remaining timbits and coffee aside and glanced up at my dentists office which happened to be just across the parking lot. I was starting to feel a little migraine-hangover headachy and my arm hurt. None-the-less, and with minimal sighing, I called upon my dentist, and half an hour later I was sitting in his chair listening to him mutter softly, “Oh darn,” behind me.  The dear man actually said ‘oh darn!’

This tooth had been troublesome off and on, since it’s root-canal ten years ago, and it turned out to be cracked right down to the roots of its little, roots. It was time for it to head off to the Great Tooth Retirement Home In The Sky.

A single memory of the ensuing ten minutes that is now burned indelibly into my psyche was of my ‘oh darn’ dentist taking to my poor tooth with a, and I kid you not, hammer and chisel!

There you have it, all in the space of a few hours, a migraine, a pain-in-the-arm flu shot, and an emergency second-from-the-back-on-the-bottom tooth extraction.

It wasn’t until this evening (2am Wednesday morning actually) that I put it together. Nothing happens on one … well, I call ‘em, Realms of Awareness – physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual – that isn’t reflected on the others. These three things were definitely physical, but what they were mirroring was the chaos that’s created at the change of the seasons.

UPDATE: Before you read any further, I realised this morning that it’s Samhain, NOT Bealtaine … Note To Self: It’s probably not a good idea to post, a) in the middle of the night, and b) when the effects of painkillers haven’t quite worn off.

Here in the northern hemisphere, Autumn is ending. Bealtaine (Beltane or Hallowe’en) marks the beginning of Winter, and when things end in order to make way for something new to begin, there is always chaos. (no matter how hard we mortals try to avoid it) Sometimes it’s a genteel chaos and sometimes it’s of the hammer-and-chisel-to-your-tooth variety.

Now that I’ve had my ‘chaos’, and all things being equal, (ha!) it just might be smooth sailing for a while.

I’m off to bed with a hot water bottle for my arm and another one for my face … and I might just have another one for my feet.