WWED?

As I re-read the contents of this blog, spanning the past few years with several long gaps, varying degrees of anonymity, and accompanying various use of writing skill (along with good judgement or lack thereof), I wonder about the “lady” I’ve become. In real life, I’m not sure I am any longer a worthwhile friend,…

The Migraine Diaries: Four [1978]

It would start with a silent pop, a feeling of letting go, somewhere deep between the eyes and behind the bridge of my nose. Next came a similar burst of panic in my chest, rapid searching for the nearest tissues, washable cloth, or, if all else failed, a place to hide and cup my hand…

The Migraine Diaries: Three [1981]

Scuffed brown shoes, slither-slap, slither-slap on the worn but clean linoleum floor as I wait anxiously for the nurse Dr. Brown said would be arriving shortly. I have what they called a “gown” on top but this is nothing Cinderella would even have worn to clean out Lucifer’s litter box. Blue paper, white ties. Which…

The Migraine Diaries: Two [1979]

Don’t lie down while watching TV. I had learned that one the hard way, after several consecutive episodes of M.A.S.H. with my parents, lying on the couch because it was near bedtime, and sitting up at the ending credits with a sudden, blinding headache. Cartoons, too, on my stomach on the goldenrod carpet, chin in…

The Migraine Diaries: Prologue [2014]

At this point in my life, without assignments or deadlines, I can only write what I know best. Recently I find it easier to chronicle my headache history, which is firm and rooted, rather than hashing over my still painful and uncertain present. I have fictionalized by renaming, combining, and filling in, but never exaggerating….

The Migraine Diaries: One [1976]

Tiny little head, big bed. Diffuse curtain light too bright. Is it supposed to feel this way? Drifting miniature fairies dance the length of the beam. “Dust,” mama whispers, pressing the cool cloth gently across my forehead. It hurts more on the other side, but I don’t tell her. I close my stinging eyes, then…

Upon The Loss Of Another Doctor

This job, the simple job of pretending we feel all right while hugging our spouses and kissing the tops of our children’s heads; of negotiating new doctors and treatment plans and insurance coverage and basically having to BEG for the basic care we deserve while burned-out advocates, as they occasionally must, slip away to their…