It’s been far too long Pack Faithful, and being away from you all has really made me feel like Celie and Nettie…You and me will never part *Hand Clap*
So, here’s the lowdown on why I’ve been M.I.A. for the past few weeks…
Two weekends ago, after experiencing the sort of brain ache that made me want to extend a personal two-angel-detail invitation to both Michael and Gabriel to escort me on to glory, I was dragged kicking and screaming strongly encouraged to return to my doctor’s office for better analysis of my situation and more tests to determine what has really been going on with me. When I finally made the call for an appointment that Tuesday (two full days after feeling like I’d gone 12 rounds with Mike Tyson…the late 80’s heavyweight camp, not the ear biting, facial tattooed round-in-the-middle Mike), I had already been suffering with a fever that had been sitting at a consistent 103 degrees.
After a bevy of questions and some poking and prodding, my doctor was convinced that I was her first case of flu for the season (and even though I was deliriously feverish, I am convinced that she delivered this diagnosis in an almost giddy fashion…like she won the “First Flu Case” office pool or something!). Writing out more than a half dozen prescriptions for my aches and pains, she hopped onto her computer and dialed up the Center for Disease Control to determine if there was a new strain of flu that had been identified for the season. Once satisfied that I’d not been infected with some new and improved mutated bug, she administered a non-to-gentle Tamiflu shot in the tuckus and sent me to the lab for some blood work.
A day later, my doctor called to let me know that my tests had determined that I did not have the flu, but because my fever had not broken and my head was still throbbing, she wanted me to come in for even more tests. This visit ended with me feeling like a human pin cushion and with an appointment with a specialist for the following week for an MRI and a CAT scan.
I’m told that the next couple of days included a pharmaceutically induced tirade (or three) where I fired my pool guy for trespassing (note: I don’t have a pool guy…or a pool), fussed at my nephew for being careless after I single-handedly saved him from spies and accused my honey of getting me sick for life insurance purposes. Again, this is all hearsay (and if you ask me, more than a bit exaggerated) but if I did utter such outlandish things, surely the daily Tamiflu-Hydrocodone-Promethazine cocktail I was taking would be to blame, no?
So basically as it stands now, my doctor seems to believe that yet another migraine triggered something most foul that put me out of commission for seven whole days, and I must now spend a $70 specialist referral co-pay visit a neurologist to see if he can better pinpoint what the problem is and how best to fix it.
See? You had to know that there was a good reason for me to leave you guys hanging for so long. And just know that I forgive each of you for secretly accusing me of being negligent and egregious. With that however, I do ask that on my behalf, you send up a quick prayer that 1) these migraines are only a result of stress and nothing more and 2) I learn to manage my stress better so that my body never again decides to go on auto-pilot and shut down in the name of self-preservation.
Please and Thanks!