Friday, June 17, 2016

Six Impossible Things

So this month is Migraine and Headache Awareness Month. Last year there was an awesome blog challenge that provided topics to blog about but they didn't do it again this year. I meant to blog every day but I just couldn't think of things to write about. But here is one post.




Six Impossible Things.  Having New Daily Persistent Headache means believing you can do six impossible things before breakfast.



I love Alice. I really should try and finish the books. Six impossible things. Count them, Megan.

1. Climb out from under a pile of bricks
I feel really bad first thing in the morning. I'm so sore. Every muscle hurts, every bone feels bruised somehow. At first it's kind of like I haven't slept at all but instead was beat up by a gang of bikers all night. But I bear no bruises. I guess it's all in my head ;)


2. Defeat the sun

I don't like the sun. I don't like the cut of his jib. I don't like how he things he can just shine wherever he wants. All my windows are curtained except one. I have this very tall window above my door. Every morning it shines right into the hallway and into my eyes. It's a poignant, deep hate. But every day I don't die, so we call it a tie. We have only recently purchased a ladder high enough to get up there. 



3.  Wake two baby lions

It's super dangerous. People have almost died from cuteness overload. This is the best part of my day. Poppet and Moxie are so sweet in the morning. They do look a little bit like lions with their ruff of fur all fluffed around their faces.


4. Let the pain live.
I don't take any medicine. Heavens knows I want to. But medicine turns unborn babies into mutants so I abstain. But this year and a half of trying has been a painfully long time to grin and bear it. Sometimes the grinning part is impossible. But wait nothing is impossible right.  See I'm smiling.



5.  Cuddle cloud kitties.
These kitties are impossible soft. The softest kittens every born. You just can't imagine it. It's like this times a million.


6. Wait by the door.

"Feeling better" is waiting for me on the other side of the door. The other side is my life before. A healthy, care-free life. That door and I are never the right size for each other. I just stare at and will myself to fit. But I'm either too small or too big and even if we were the same size, I've never seen the key. So I just wait. This one is especially impossible.

But thankfully after I've done these six things I eat breakfast and then everything is a whole lot better.



2 comments:

  1. Brilliant. The door allegory just shot me in the heart. -b

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  2. Hi Megan! I've just found your blog after months and months of searching for someone else with NDPH. I'm 17 and have had NDPH for nearly two years now. Finding someone to listen to me and diagnose me was very difficult as no one knew what it was and just dismissed me. I've posted quite a fair bit about my journey on my blog. :)

    -Sophie xx || http://cherriesandperfume.blogspot.com.au/2016/10/three-days-of-infusion-therapy.html

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