A Victory Inn is not victorious.

We got to our hotel near the headache clinic yesterday afternoon after a cheerful cab ride from a Michigan enthusiast and an incredibly painful flight. For me, everyone else seemed to think it was fine as they didn’t have an army of angry dwarves pounding into their cheekbone as the pressure changed.

We were delivered unto a very depressing looking hotel behind a depressing gas station with a sign that read “G oup ra e avl.”

Hmm.

Inside we were met by a brusque clerk who quickly gave us a room by the farthest back exit. Upon opening the door I discovered several things:

1. The wall paper and carpet were both peeling.

2. There were cigarette burns on the ceiling. Somehow.

3. All of the hotel hangers designed to be useless to steal because they disconnect from the hanging part when you remove them were stolen.

Then the clerk knocked on the door and told us the hot water was out but should be back tomorrow, OK?

Sigh.

We then discovered the wi-fi didn’t work.

Grr.

We went to dinner at Chili’s and were made better by a few of their lovely margaritas. Eventually we went back to the monstrosity to sleep. The next morning the clerk failed to call me for my requested wake up call, but luckily I had set my alarm so we made it to the clinic for my assessments.

They drew blood. I had an EEG, resulting in real globs of water soluble paste all over my head. I met with a doctor and a psychologist. I spent 9 hours being tested and questioned before being told I was being admitted to the hospital and to call after my MRI’s for admission instructions. Then we went back to the hotel, tired and hungry.

I turned the water on to take a shower. It was cold.

Grrrrrr.

I had huge globs of paste in my hair that had been there for 8 hours and it was really starting to hurt. I used a styrofoam cup to wash my hair out in the tub so I didn’t have to stand in the freezing cold water. As I did, the tub began to fill. I figured the stopper was set to on so I reached over to turn it to drain and the handle came off in my hand.

At this point, despite anger being a trigger for migraine, I was getting pretty angry.

I finished washing my hair and went to tell the clerk about the tub and complain about the water.
Me: The water is still cold.

Him: Yeah, it’ll be fixed tomorrow.
Me: I had to wash medical paste out of my hair with a cup on the edge of the tub and while I did, the bathtub handle came off in my hand.
Him: That’s okay, I’ll leave a note about that for maintenance.
Me: That’s okay?
Him: Yeah. Room 123 right?
Me: Deathglare.

Which is how we ended up in the Holiday Inn Express in Chelsea. It’s the most luxurious room I have ever stayed in. It is made of Unicorns farting rainbows made of smaller Unicorns.

Raise your glass to answers…

Or at least better questions.

We are off. We leave in two hours for beautiful Ann Arbor Michigan. I will be engaging intensive treatment with a team of specialists from all areas as we try to find a way to cope with my headaches and TN.

I will not come home with a cure, but with a new path. A new treatment. It’s enough.

It has to be.

Ann Arbor on the horizon…

It’s 5:30 a.m. the morning after Spring Forward.

I can’t sleep.

Tomorrow morning I take my fuzzy pillow and my comfort quilt and I board a plane for the Michigan Headache and Neurological Institute in Ann Arbor.

I don’t know how long I will be there, if they can do anything, what the prognosis is.

All the anxiety I have been staving off with everything I could possibly find just hit me right now, in the 5:30 am quiet of the house.

I somehow can’t believe my headaches have gotten so bad I am going into a special hospital for them, but here I am.

If you have spare prayers, please throw a little my way. I am casting about in a tiny boat on a huge angry ocean. This is the last big try, if it doesn’t work, there isn’t any other plan.

Managing life with chronic illness requires savvy spoons