Every night before I go to sleep I sit down on the carpet next to my bed and I pull out my box of medications.  It is not a small box.  I rifle through pain killers, NSAIDS, beta-blockers, calcium receptor blockers, vaso-dialators, vaso-constrictors, muscle relaxants, estrogen, you name it.  It has been years since I didn’t have a handful of pills to take at night.

Earlier this week I ended up at the ER due to drug interactions.  There were two samples I had been given that weren’t supposed to be taken within 24 hours of each other. They are highly similar medications, so I basically OD’d on migraine treatments.  I have spent the rest of the week feeling like I have the flu as my body processed out the toxins. That got me thinking. What strange chemical soup do I have going on in my body anyway? Should I be on medications non-stop for the rest of my life? Given half lives of medications and drug interactions and nasty side effects, should I be throwing a bunch of samples into the mix?

My lovely trip to the ER and the several hour freak out about overdose or allergic reaction has lit within me the urge to go off of everything, start an elimination diet, and just get myself back to a blank slate.  I have no idea if the migraines I have now are so much worse because they naturally would have been that way, or if it is because I am a mind-boggling concoction of chemical additives.
It’s funny though.  This decision feels gut-level right but already my evil self is coming up with reasons why I should delay it, or not do it at all.

It’s nearly the holiday season, Evil Me says, you don’t want to feel left out during Thanksgiving, or Christmas! Think about how awful it will be to pass up the goodies!!

You have to take the estrogen, failing to do so will cause your bones to turn to dust and your chin to erupt in rivers of hair.

You will have to give up chocolate at the same time you stop taking your HRT’s. No one is stupid enough to do that. (Not even you, stupid).

Evil Me likes the idea of candy and not having hot flashes and being able to eat somewhat “normally”.  However, Evil Me is an idiot.  She also thinks it’s a good idea to put off chores, buy shoes she doesn’t need, and have that second serving of ice cream.  She would probably also be tempted to run off to Vegas with no notice, leaving the children in the care of my long suffering parents.

The books I have been reading indicate I should, at least, get off of refined sugars.  A fabulous new book I have been gifted suggests getting off of all grains, refined foods and sugars.  As sugar, chocolate especially, has long been linked with migraines, perhaps now is the time to go through with the elimination and reintroduction process.  Perhaps I can solve my health problems with a clean slate and close attention to trigger foods instead of using medications that make me ill and cost the earth.

It can’t be any harder than what I am currently doing.

I have been through a lot in the past two to three years.  However, if you were to ask me how I am, I would probably tell you I am fine, or perhaps shrug and tell you I have a headache, but “When don’t I?”. 

You see, as I have grown older I have begun to lose my voice.  I don’t talk about the really scary stuff, the really hard stuff.  I don’t share the stories behind my nightmares or the reasons I cry in the shower.  I showcase the positive and when it comes to the negative I hide in my cave and lick my wounds.  

I don’t talk about it because I am already tired of dealing with it.  I am tired of having the feelings surrounding it, much less sharing them.  Sometimes, the situations are just too big for me to handle my own reactions to them, much less another’s.  Further, when I have shared my feelings, it has seemed as though the person I am talking to needs more comfort regarding my affliction than I.  Rare is the person who simply says “That really sucks” and offers me a hug.  

I love that my friends and family all love me enough to offer help and to offer suggestions regarding alternative medicine or particular treatments.  I understand how hard it is to sit idly by while someone you love is going through something, anything, hard.  Because I understand, I used to diligently follow up on each and every referral and suggestion, trying everything my collective loved ones thought might help. 

Now I don’t. 

I don’t have the energy. 

I can’t live a normal life right now.  Some days it is still impossible to really leave the darkness of my room.  Hold music irritates my headaches, as does the sound of overly chipper receptionists.  The thought of explaining my medical history to yet another medical professional makes me want to cry.  The pages and pages of patient history I have to fill out is daunting in the extreme.  

Then there’s the fact that all these doctor’s are just guessing.  “Here, try these samples and see if something works” is the most common thing I have heard.  I know they are as flummoxed as I am.  There is no tumor, no allergy, no obvious thing causing my condition.  All they can do is try. All I can do is let them try.  

Last night I ended up in the ER because two of the samples I had been given were similar enough to cause an overdose.  I hadn’t been warned to avoid taking them within 24 hours of each other and I didn’t read the entire pamphlet until I started feeling unable to stay awake.  When I did read it I freaked.  Not only was I not supposed to take the second medication within 24 hours of the first, but I also had a much higher likelihood of having a heart attack on this medication because post menopausal women aren’t supposed to take it.  

Well shit, I am post menopausal, I thought. 

So I went to the ER.  I got to jump the line due to pressure in my throat and a possible allergic reaction to medication.  I got an EKG, I got an I.V., I got to play in the hospital room with my son while they watched me to insure I wasn’t going to die on them. 

Today I woke up with another horrible headache.  I couldn’t drive my kids to school or pick them up.  I couldn’t work well.  Tasks that should take a few minutes took forever. 

If you asked me how I am feeling today I would tell you.  

I feel hopeless.  I don’t know what to do. 

Yesterday afternoon I got Botox.  I didn’t get it to look younger, and having had the procedure done I have to give props to those who do.  You are committed to your appearance if you voluntarily get thirty some odd shots in your face four times a year.  Of course, I am a bit of a needle phobe, so perhaps you are just less of a scaredy cat than I.

I brought my mother, in part because I was afraid of the treatment, and in part because I was getting the results back from my MRI.  Given the recent and dramatic changes in my migraines, I half expected to be told I had a giant brain tumor.  I wanted my mom there if that was the case.

The good news.  No tumor.  My MRI is fine.  Visibly there is nothing wrong with me. I have simply had a nine week long headache.

The bad news.  There is nothing visibly wrong with me.  No quick and easy fix.

So my doctor moved on to the treatment.  He injected my eyebrows three times each, my forehead in eight different places, my temples, the back of my skull, my neck, and my shoulders.  I would love to tell you it didn’t hurt.  All I can say is it hurt significantly less than the nerve block, but it turns out my face doesn’t like being poked a bunch.

Then he told me the side effect might be a headache.

Wha????

It turns out that our muscles don’t enjoy being punctured so much.  I can take up to a week for the treatment to work, and during that time my headache will likely be worse.  It certainly was yesterday.  It’s not much better today.

Oddly increased pain isn’t the worst part of this.  My feelings are.  I have been in tears on and off since the injections.  It’s like a floodgate opened up. I have been crying about my pain, my separation, my career, my friends, my family, the people I used to know, you name it.  I can’t seem to get back on even keel.

I have had emotional responses to muscle stimulus before during massage.  There is a theory that the tension in our muscles contains hormones or chemicals that can cause an emotional high or low when released.  I just didn’t think this could happen as a result of Botox.  It is happening though.  I feel everything, all at once, in a crazy, uncontrollable, roller-coaster ride kind of way.

I really wish it would stop.  For one, crying makes my head hurt more, which makes me cry at the unfairness of crying causing more pain, which makes me hurt more, which upsets me more, which leads to more crying… rinse… repeat. Secondly, I am done being the crazy emotional girl.  Going through instant menopause was enough.  I am really looking to get back to a stable world where I can at least anticipate whether or not I will be miserable in ten minutes.  This whole crying because a friend sent me a lovely text message telling me I will get through it or crying because damnit the kids drank all the milk, again, is too much.  Lastly, if this happens every time I get Botox injections I will be signing up for a huge emotional crazy fest every three months.

So far the Botox hasn’t helped.  I am trying to stay positive.  He said it could take a week.  I am hoping the headache gets better day by day.  I guess I wait and see.

P.S. I do not look any younger as a result of the injections.  All my wrinkles seem to be in place and I have been informed I still make crazy weird faces when I express myself.  So that’s all good.