By now, I'm sure most of you have seen the footage of a reporter, Serene Branson, whose speech became garbled nonsense on air. There was initial speculation that she was intoxicated or having a stroke, but no, it was a migraine. I watched this news report, in which she is interviewed about the incident, and I cried.
I cried because of the fear and confusion in her face, as she realizes she can't make the right words come out. And then I cried again, watching her watch the footage. She couldn't hide her embarrassment, and I know exactly how she feels.
I've lost my speech to varying degrees. As an obsessive reader from very early childhood, I've always had an extensive vocabulary, but now it's pretty common for me to mix up words, or forget them.entirely. ("Let's go to the pony. No. The poke. No. The park. Yes. Let's go to the park! Quick, before I forget it again!") I've had a few instances of speaking straight gibberish as Serene did, though, I don't keep talking. As soon as I realize that I can't make the words come out right, I start crying. Wish I wouldn't, but there it is. I've also had quite a few experiences of not being able to talk at all. I just can't organize my thoughts enough to make my mouth work. It's all very disconnected and scary.
If I hadn't already been so suddenly stricken by all of my other migraine symptoms, I would have thought I was having a stroke, too. But since I'd already had experience with surprising and strange neurological things happening to me, with or without head pain, I was semi-prepared for those bizarre symptoms. When I first reported the symptoms to my neurologist, he hardly batted an eyelash and reassured me that I was, indeed, experiencing a rare type of aura. But he did also suggest that I call the office, or 911, if new symptoms crop up, don't just assume anything. And then he told me about the FAST acronym for stroke self-diagnosis, which does make me feel a little better when things go banana-shaped.
If you haven't heard of FAST, let me enlighten you briefly. If you suspect, even a little, that you are having a stroke, check the following::
Face: Smile and look in a mirror (or ask someone nearby). Is your smile crooked? Does one side of your face droop?
Arms: Raise both arms in front of you. Does one arm drift downward?
Speech: Try to say something simple, like what you had for breakfast. Does your speech sound slurred or strange?
Time: If you observe any of these signs, call 9-1-1 immediately.
According to this acronym, my speech symptoms could be indicative of a stroke. But I'm not going to go to the ER every week or so. Instead, I check my face and arms (Heh, I guess my acronym is FAT) to see if either of those are presenting strangely. This strategy, as well as reporting any new or severe symptoms immediately, is doctor and patient approved. And so far, so good.
I've become pretty comfortable with all of these wacky symptoms. They can still upset me, but they don't scare me nearly as much as they used to. Other people, however, don't respond as casually as I do to slurred speech, et al. I get a lot fo side-eyes and adorable questions, like, "Are you on something?"
That, not the symptoms, is really upsetting. When eyes are rolled at me, or impatience in shown, or disbelief, I just want to curl up into a corner and die, or rage out on the closest ignorant jerk. Either/or. I've gotten cozy with my invisible disability, being able to pass as neuro-typical for short periods is very convenient. Outing myself involuntarily makes me feel vulnerable. And I've never been into vulnerability much.
I'm working on that. I can't control other people, only how I much I give a crap about them. But if people like Serene, people who have visibility and a way to spread a message, keep speaking out about their migraines, maybe I won't have to get that thicker skin.
Dear Serene, thanks for talking about your migraines publicly. That was pretty cool. Love, steph
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Sunday, February 27, 2011
Monday, February 21, 2011
Guest Post: The Joys of Life Without Health Insurance
I'm taking a little break this week, but I still have some top quality migraine content to share! So, please give a warm welcome to a fellow migraineur and blogger, and my friend, Christine.
Hi everyone, my name is Christine. I write about eco-friendliness at Simple Savvy, love agave ketchup, and have been getting migraines once or twice a week for the past five years. I er... also don’t have health insurance.
I used to live in New Hampshire, where this isn’t an unusual occurrence. There are a lot of things like that in New Hampshire. People expect you to tough it out. “Live free or die” is the state motto, where “free” means, “don’t butt into my business, thank-you-very-much, and I don’t want to know about yours.” I’ve had to go to extensive measures managing my triggers, but doing so enables me to handle the migraines with OTC meds and some holistic remedies. Well, for the most part.
Mr. Savvy and I moved to Connecticut last month to be closer to my family. We were also escaping from a bad housing situation. I’d tell you details, but then you’d get nightmares! Suffice it to say, we didn’t get jobs before we moved. We assumed that one or both of us would be able to find something with health insurance included once we got down here. So far, nothing -- state of the economy and all that. Again, my migraines are manageable with over-the-counter pills. It’s not awesome, and it’s not easy, but it’s my way of coping, so I’m okay going without insurance for a little while.
Well, the inevitable happened: I got a migraine that needed more than I could give it. It was one of those migraines where you’re surprised by the intensity and knocked on your ass by the length. None of my usual coping mechanisms touched it, and it gave every indication of continuing forever. I was unprepared for it, and Mr. Savvy and I decided I needed a doctor to give me some heavier duty meds. In general, I like triptans. They work for me and I feel okay taking them since they’re on the mild end of migraine meds. That, and walk-in clinics usually have no problem prescribing them.
The ever supportive Mr. Savvy found a clinic, rustled up my health records, and figured out how to get there. He guided me through the check-in process and sat with me while the doctor made me wait. And it was a long wait.
And then suddenly, the doctor came in and I was addicted to narcotics. I don’t know how it happened. Maybe it was the lack of health insurance, but the doctor lectured me for a good fifteen minutes about how he was going to give me Percocets but I shouldn’t go “doctor hopping” for prescription narcotics because the police catch up with you if you do that in Connecticut, and he doesn’t know how things were in New Hampshire, but it’s just not tolerated here in the land of civility and snobbery. Or something. He also told me I could have meningitis, or maybe there’s a tumor growing behind my eye, insinuated that Mr. Savvy is a bad husband, and seemed flabbergasted that I had no one but myself managing my migraines. No, I couldn’t possibly have done any research about my condition, or know anything beyond what HE knew, which was, admittedly, very little. But anyway. He also checked me for track marks.
It was subtle -- he partially pushed up my shirt sleeve and made a big deal about how the blood pressure cuff wouldn’t fit around my wrist (wrist! not even elbow!) with my sleeve only pushed up partway. So I rolled my sleeve all the way up to my shoulder. He turned my arm inside out, saw the lack of track marks, cuffed me, and took my blood pressure.
He then refused to listen when I told him that in fact I did NOT want narcotics, a simple triptan would do. It took both Mr. Savvy and I repeatedly saying, “triptans. I would rather have triptans. Give me some triptans” for him to get it. And when we (used loosely here -- Mr. Savvy did most of the talking) confronted the man about accusing us of being drug users, not wanting narcotics, and never doctor-hopping before, he was all, “Oh right, well I’m just letting you know. In case you decide to in the future.” It couldn’t be more plain that the man didn’t believe a word we said.
Sigh. I eventually got the meds, got the help I needed, got rid of the migraine. I don’t remember ever feeling so low before over a doctor’s visit. I’ve certainly never been accused of abusing drugs. Lying about the migraines, making up the frequency, intensity, food triggers -- sure. That’s an everyday occurrence. But narcotics? Never crossed my mind.
And you know what gets to me the most? The fact that I can laugh about this, that I almost have to. It’s so typical of chronic pain experiences that there’s nothing else to do except use this as a good line at parties. “One time, this doctor accused me of being addicted to drugs. Har har!”
You can read more by Christine over at Simple Savvy, the simple living blog where migraine posts are in short supply, but there's plenty of puppy love to go around.
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Hi everyone, my name is Christine. I write about eco-friendliness at Simple Savvy, love agave ketchup, and have been getting migraines once or twice a week for the past five years. I er... also don’t have health insurance.
I used to live in New Hampshire, where this isn’t an unusual occurrence. There are a lot of things like that in New Hampshire. People expect you to tough it out. “Live free or die” is the state motto, where “free” means, “don’t butt into my business, thank-you-very-much, and I don’t want to know about yours.” I’ve had to go to extensive measures managing my triggers, but doing so enables me to handle the migraines with OTC meds and some holistic remedies. Well, for the most part.
Mr. Savvy and I moved to Connecticut last month to be closer to my family. We were also escaping from a bad housing situation. I’d tell you details, but then you’d get nightmares! Suffice it to say, we didn’t get jobs before we moved. We assumed that one or both of us would be able to find something with health insurance included once we got down here. So far, nothing -- state of the economy and all that. Again, my migraines are manageable with over-the-counter pills. It’s not awesome, and it’s not easy, but it’s my way of coping, so I’m okay going without insurance for a little while.
Well, the inevitable happened: I got a migraine that needed more than I could give it. It was one of those migraines where you’re surprised by the intensity and knocked on your ass by the length. None of my usual coping mechanisms touched it, and it gave every indication of continuing forever. I was unprepared for it, and Mr. Savvy and I decided I needed a doctor to give me some heavier duty meds. In general, I like triptans. They work for me and I feel okay taking them since they’re on the mild end of migraine meds. That, and walk-in clinics usually have no problem prescribing them.
The ever supportive Mr. Savvy found a clinic, rustled up my health records, and figured out how to get there. He guided me through the check-in process and sat with me while the doctor made me wait. And it was a long wait.
And then suddenly, the doctor came in and I was addicted to narcotics. I don’t know how it happened. Maybe it was the lack of health insurance, but the doctor lectured me for a good fifteen minutes about how he was going to give me Percocets but I shouldn’t go “doctor hopping” for prescription narcotics because the police catch up with you if you do that in Connecticut, and he doesn’t know how things were in New Hampshire, but it’s just not tolerated here in the land of civility and snobbery. Or something. He also told me I could have meningitis, or maybe there’s a tumor growing behind my eye, insinuated that Mr. Savvy is a bad husband, and seemed flabbergasted that I had no one but myself managing my migraines. No, I couldn’t possibly have done any research about my condition, or know anything beyond what HE knew, which was, admittedly, very little. But anyway. He also checked me for track marks.
It was subtle -- he partially pushed up my shirt sleeve and made a big deal about how the blood pressure cuff wouldn’t fit around my wrist (wrist! not even elbow!) with my sleeve only pushed up partway. So I rolled my sleeve all the way up to my shoulder. He turned my arm inside out, saw the lack of track marks, cuffed me, and took my blood pressure.
He then refused to listen when I told him that in fact I did NOT want narcotics, a simple triptan would do. It took both Mr. Savvy and I repeatedly saying, “triptans. I would rather have triptans. Give me some triptans” for him to get it. And when we (used loosely here -- Mr. Savvy did most of the talking) confronted the man about accusing us of being drug users, not wanting narcotics, and never doctor-hopping before, he was all, “Oh right, well I’m just letting you know. In case you decide to in the future.” It couldn’t be more plain that the man didn’t believe a word we said.
Sigh. I eventually got the meds, got the help I needed, got rid of the migraine. I don’t remember ever feeling so low before over a doctor’s visit. I’ve certainly never been accused of abusing drugs. Lying about the migraines, making up the frequency, intensity, food triggers -- sure. That’s an everyday occurrence. But narcotics? Never crossed my mind.
And you know what gets to me the most? The fact that I can laugh about this, that I almost have to. It’s so typical of chronic pain experiences that there’s nothing else to do except use this as a good line at parties. “One time, this doctor accused me of being addicted to drugs. Har har!”
You can read more by Christine over at Simple Savvy, the simple living blog where migraine posts are in short supply, but there's plenty of puppy love to go around.
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Monday, February 14, 2011
For Valentine's Day, I'm Wrapping Up Christmas
There were some loose ends from Christmas that have been nagging at me. Pictures were taken but have remained unposted, and leftover baked goods were taking up valuable real estate in my freezer, long past their expected move-out date. So, I woke up today with a plan.
I gave everyone I saw during the holidays a crocheted plastic bag and some muffins, banana or pumpkin spice. I was panicked all December about making enough muffins for the masses, so I made way too many. But instead of handing out even more to friends and family, I decided I wanted to distribute them to people who don't normally get home baked muffins, the homeless.
I called a few shelters, but they refused them, so I determined that we should take them to one of our neighborhood parks, the one that is always filled with homeless and poor people. I didn't plan to do it on Valentine's Day, but it worked out perfectly. The weather was cloudy today, but not too cold. I wasn't feeling amazing, but I was well enough to walk a mile or so, and do a little talking and smiling. I was a little afraid of getting a bad reaction, but everyone was really nice. Some people said thank you and some didn't. One man was sleeping, so I left a muffin next to him on the bench. A group of kids made jokes about whether they were edible, until I smilingly said they didn't have to take one if they didn't want one. One boy laughed and said he was just kidding, banana please! Some people said no thanks, and that was ok too. It was nice to be outside, talking to others, sharing food and making people smile. I spend so much time in my house, and in my head, that it's easy to lose perspective. Today reminded me that I am a citizen of this world. And I am very proud to have fed a small portion of my comrades.
The boyfriend and I were arm-linked and silly on on the walk back home, a little giddy on giving. He suggested that we should do it again, maybe try to make it a tradition, and I heartily agreed. Happy Valentine's Day to us.
So, now that I have all of this freezer space, I feel I should empty out my "to blog" photo folder a little, too. Specifically, those christmas bags have got to go.
Ahhh, that's better. Merry Christmas. Happy Valentine's Day. And to all a good night.
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I gave everyone I saw during the holidays a crocheted plastic bag and some muffins, banana or pumpkin spice. I was panicked all December about making enough muffins for the masses, so I made way too many. But instead of handing out even more to friends and family, I decided I wanted to distribute them to people who don't normally get home baked muffins, the homeless.
I called a few shelters, but they refused them, so I determined that we should take them to one of our neighborhood parks, the one that is always filled with homeless and poor people. I didn't plan to do it on Valentine's Day, but it worked out perfectly. The weather was cloudy today, but not too cold. I wasn't feeling amazing, but I was well enough to walk a mile or so, and do a little talking and smiling. I was a little afraid of getting a bad reaction, but everyone was really nice. Some people said thank you and some didn't. One man was sleeping, so I left a muffin next to him on the bench. A group of kids made jokes about whether they were edible, until I smilingly said they didn't have to take one if they didn't want one. One boy laughed and said he was just kidding, banana please! Some people said no thanks, and that was ok too. It was nice to be outside, talking to others, sharing food and making people smile. I spend so much time in my house, and in my head, that it's easy to lose perspective. Today reminded me that I am a citizen of this world. And I am very proud to have fed a small portion of my comrades.
The boyfriend and I were arm-linked and silly on on the walk back home, a little giddy on giving. He suggested that we should do it again, maybe try to make it a tradition, and I heartily agreed. Happy Valentine's Day to us.
So, now that I have all of this freezer space, I feel I should empty out my "to blog" photo folder a little, too. Specifically, those christmas bags have got to go.
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| I kept this water-bottle sized bag. |
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| This was the last one I made. I felt pretty fancy with the color changes. |
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| Tri-color close-up! |
Ahhh, that's better. Merry Christmas. Happy Valentine's Day. And to all a good night.
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Friday, February 11, 2011
Gardening, 2011
I was hesitant to garden again. My last one was nearly two years ago. It started out with sprouting a few seeds from grocery store produce. Then a few more. Then a sad seedling had to be saved at the farmer's market. And wouldn't it be nice to grow our own salads? Before I'd really thought it through, I had a couple of tomato plants, three kinds of peppers, strawberries, eggplant, zucchini, greens, some carrots and radishes, and several herbs, including mint, basil, oregano, stevia, rosemary, feverfew and chamomile. Even with my boyfriend filling in for me constantly, I didn't do much else that summer but garden, too often in the bright, hot sun.
I should have anticipated that gardening would be rough on my head. If you go back to that post I Iinked and try to find the follow-up I promised at the end there, you won't. I took a few pictures over the summer, but I never got around to writing about it because I was struggling damn hard not to hate every other second. When I wasn't tending to my 37 tomato seedlings or trying to keep the whiteflies off the zuccs, or fighting with the landlord over water-related disputes, I mostly slept. The sun, bending and crouching, manual labor, and stress all tend to be migraine triggers. That summer, they worked as a team.
So, last year I was not interested in gardening in the least. Besides keeping the plants I still had alive, I did nothing. I love the plants I have (probably a little more than is normal), but I just couldn't bring myself to start any seeds last year and even the seedlings in the farmer's market, which I would normally squee over, made me feel tired. I was burnt out.
However, I also remember it being prolific. We had so many tomatoes, we gave them to neighbors and ate them with every meal.
From having a garden, I learned to love cooking with fresh herbs and veggies. I felt like a master of the universe pollinating my zucchini flowers. I created LIFE! And then I ate it! But, my favoritest thing about having a garden was sitting on the still hot porch just after the sun had gone down, looking over my bounty and lazily harvesting whatever looked good and immediately eating whatever looked best. That was my zen, for a while. So, as relieved as I was for the break from gardening, I missed it terribly.
Consequently, I'm giving it another go this year, but I'm going to keep it small, real small. I've got a few things started already, a long planter of garlic cloves (sprouting already!) and onion seeds, another filled with some special New Mexican chili pepper seeds, a pot with some oregano seeds, and a young thyme plant snagged at that big farmer's market last weekend. Nothing dramatic, and it's mostly blank soil still, but I've got the dirt under my nails and the sun on my skin again, and I can't wait to reap what I grow.
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I should have anticipated that gardening would be rough on my head. If you go back to that post I Iinked and try to find the follow-up I promised at the end there, you won't. I took a few pictures over the summer, but I never got around to writing about it because I was struggling damn hard not to hate every other second. When I wasn't tending to my 37 tomato seedlings or trying to keep the whiteflies off the zuccs, or fighting with the landlord over water-related disputes, I mostly slept. The sun, bending and crouching, manual labor, and stress all tend to be migraine triggers. That summer, they worked as a team.
So, last year I was not interested in gardening in the least. Besides keeping the plants I still had alive, I did nothing. I love the plants I have (probably a little more than is normal), but I just couldn't bring myself to start any seeds last year and even the seedlings in the farmer's market, which I would normally squee over, made me feel tired. I was burnt out.
However, I also remember it being prolific. We had so many tomatoes, we gave them to neighbors and ate them with every meal.
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| My front steps two summers ago, when the early girls were just starting to fruit. |
From having a garden, I learned to love cooking with fresh herbs and veggies. I felt like a master of the universe pollinating my zucchini flowers. I created LIFE! And then I ate it! But, my favoritest thing about having a garden was sitting on the still hot porch just after the sun had gone down, looking over my bounty and lazily harvesting whatever looked good and immediately eating whatever looked best. That was my zen, for a while. So, as relieved as I was for the break from gardening, I missed it terribly.
Consequently, I'm giving it another go this year, but I'm going to keep it small, real small. I've got a few things started already, a long planter of garlic cloves (sprouting already!) and onion seeds, another filled with some special New Mexican chili pepper seeds, a pot with some oregano seeds, and a young thyme plant snagged at that big farmer's market last weekend. Nothing dramatic, and it's mostly blank soil still, but I've got the dirt under my nails and the sun on my skin again, and I can't wait to reap what I grow.
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| Mint, a survivor from two summers ago. |
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| Thyme, the baby of our little plant family. Isn't she just adorable? |
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Sunday, February 6, 2011
Outings: Good and Bad
I got a couple of Old Navy giftcards for Christmas and my birthday. So, I tried to spend them last week. Tried.
I walked into the store, and the music was loud. Like, raise your voice to be heard loud. I put a second earplug in and was disappointed when the noise was only dampened. The whiny rock the kids listen to these days (lol) pierces my cranium, earplugs be damned. My boyfriend asked an employee to turn it down, but they said that they needed the manager for that, and the manager would be back in ten minutes. We were on a schedule, so I tried to tough it out, but ended up bolting from the building just a few minutes later. I'm going to try again, hopefully this week, but I'm going to have my boyfriend call ahead to make sure someone with the power of volume control will be available. I checked out their website, but I'm irked by shipping costs. This is probably the dumbest thing I have ever blogged about, I mean, first world problems much? But it happened and it was frustrating.
After we left the store, I was in a haze. I was sort of blind and sick and confused. All I could think was to grab for the pipe in my pocket, lean against a wall and take a toke or two. This is only really notable because this was the first time I'd medicated in public without feeling guilt or anxious or uncomfortably conspicuous. For the first time, I just did it, (discreetly, as usual), without any furtive looks around, or worrying about who could see me or what they would think. It's possible that I only had this moment of aplomb because I was so far gone that feeling sneaky was nowhere on my list of priorities. It was all about breathing, standing, not dropping anything and not crying. It's easy to forget about the rest of the world when your head's about to fall off.
This morning, I went to the huge farmer's market with my parents, brother and boyfriend. It's beautiful here today, in the high 60's, sunny, with just a light breeze. It's a big enough market to be intimidating, though, I played it just right: I ditched everyone else at the first sign of loitering. I don't have spoons for idle standing and jibber-jabbering. I kept moving, my eyeses on the prizes. And when I had finished the circuit, I found me a seat on the ground. There was one bench, but it had no back, so I was better off on the ground, leaning against the bike lockers.
By the time everyone else had caught up, I was fit to go again. At least, enough to get back to the car. And then I had another twenty minutes of freeway to rest before I had to tackle the insurmountable challenge of my front steps. Once inside, another half hour of rest and medicating, and I managed to take the dog out for the slowest walk ever and get a few chores done.
I'll spend the rest of today like this, with lots of resting, watching the superbowl, but also some light cleaning, and maybe a little gardening, too. It's shaping up to be a lovely Sunday.
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I walked into the store, and the music was loud. Like, raise your voice to be heard loud. I put a second earplug in and was disappointed when the noise was only dampened. The whiny rock the kids listen to these days (lol) pierces my cranium, earplugs be damned. My boyfriend asked an employee to turn it down, but they said that they needed the manager for that, and the manager would be back in ten minutes. We were on a schedule, so I tried to tough it out, but ended up bolting from the building just a few minutes later. I'm going to try again, hopefully this week, but I'm going to have my boyfriend call ahead to make sure someone with the power of volume control will be available. I checked out their website, but I'm irked by shipping costs. This is probably the dumbest thing I have ever blogged about, I mean, first world problems much? But it happened and it was frustrating.
After we left the store, I was in a haze. I was sort of blind and sick and confused. All I could think was to grab for the pipe in my pocket, lean against a wall and take a toke or two. This is only really notable because this was the first time I'd medicated in public without feeling guilt or anxious or uncomfortably conspicuous. For the first time, I just did it, (discreetly, as usual), without any furtive looks around, or worrying about who could see me or what they would think. It's possible that I only had this moment of aplomb because I was so far gone that feeling sneaky was nowhere on my list of priorities. It was all about breathing, standing, not dropping anything and not crying. It's easy to forget about the rest of the world when your head's about to fall off.
This morning, I went to the huge farmer's market with my parents, brother and boyfriend. It's beautiful here today, in the high 60's, sunny, with just a light breeze. It's a big enough market to be intimidating, though, I played it just right: I ditched everyone else at the first sign of loitering. I don't have spoons for idle standing and jibber-jabbering. I kept moving, my eyeses on the prizes. And when I had finished the circuit, I found me a seat on the ground. There was one bench, but it had no back, so I was better off on the ground, leaning against the bike lockers.
By the time everyone else had caught up, I was fit to go again. At least, enough to get back to the car. And then I had another twenty minutes of freeway to rest before I had to tackle the insurmountable challenge of my front steps. Once inside, another half hour of rest and medicating, and I managed to take the dog out for the slowest walk ever and get a few chores done.
I'll spend the rest of today like this, with lots of resting, watching the superbowl, but also some light cleaning, and maybe a little gardening, too. It's shaping up to be a lovely Sunday.
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Sunday, January 30, 2011
HempCon 2011
Just when I thought I was done writing about marijuana for a little while, HempCon came to town.
Reminder: Medicinal cannabis (pot, marijuana) is legal in my neck of the states, and I have a prescription. I adhere to all laws to the best of my knowledge, and encourage you to do the same. I also encourage you to seek out whatever gives you pain relief, in the best way you can.
I spent the afternoon before our evening HempCon trip panicking a little. I'd walked the dog just a quarter mile too far in the morning, and was worried that I'd already spread myself too thinly and would end up crying in the middle of a crowd. There were no food or drinks allowed, so I was afraid that they wouldn't let me bring in my own huge bottle of water and smaller bottle of coffee. I knew there'd be a lot of walking, and there was a strict "no smoking" policy on the grounds, which made me curious as to how all of the medical marijuana patients were going to medicate themselves, if need be. And we were originally going to take public transport, which is a whole other ball of worms.
So, after calming my panic with soothing noises and vague promises of solving all my problems, my boyfriend carefully planned it so we had the use of our neighbor's van (I love you guys!), he called someone he knew who was working the event and was reassured that they had no interest in my non-disposable beverage containers. There was no organized smoking situation at the venue, but my so-smart boyfriend reminded me that we could always take a walk if I needed to medicate. Convinced enough that I wouldn't be walking directly into a viper pit of pain, we went.
The convention wasn't as big as I expected. It was split into two sections, the first was accessible to everyone over 18. There were pipes and grow lights and a booth with several massage chairs and clothing stands and even hemp ale, which we didn't try. This first section was worth a quick walkthrough, but nothing held our attention for long. Then, there was an area you couldn't get into without a hand stamp. We showed our IDs, my recommendation and the boyfriend's caregiver paperwork, got our stamps, and stepped behind the curtain into the true HempCon.
There were many food booths, candy bars, "potcorn", cocoa rice krispie treats, chocolate, brownies, lollipops, and fudge.
There were even more elaborate pipes and bongs, and some truly beautiful glass pieces. They weren't selling marijuana directly, but there was one booth where you could buy a water bottle and get a substantial "free sample" with it. They also had clones (cuttings of fully grown plants, which would then grow and flower for your consumption), but none of them were robust enough or cheap enough for us to bite.
The experience was exhausting. It was a huge tent/warehouse thing. It was loud. It was bright. And it was crowded.
There wasn't adequate seating around the booth area. I ended up sitting on the floor, as far out of the way as I could get, for probably 45 minutes total. (Hence the perspective of the above three shots.) My boyfriend would go register us for this or that, bringing me papers to fill out and samples to try, while I rested and drank water. My boyfriend did all the talking for me and collected information on delivery services and strange and interesting methods of ingestion, which I may be experimenting with soon.
As I previously panicked, er, mentioned, there was no smoking on premises, or so the rules stated, but I was shocked (shocked!!) that the edibles seemed to help and I really didn't feel a need to medicate the entire time we were there. I mean, I kept both earplugs in and my hat on the whole time, but I brought my sunglasses, minty "headache oil", and various emergency pharmaceuticals and didn't end up needing any of it. Then, I got home and still didn't need to medicate! For the rest of the night! Apparently, my previous edibles experiments have been defunct either because I wasn't consuming quality goods, or because wasn't consuming enough. I can't, unfortunately, be eating brownies and fudge and gobs of thc butter every day, but I like knowing I have the option, if I'm stuck somewhere where smoking is impossible or difficult. Also, my recent sleep anxiety is null with the edibles. I'm still very early in my experimenting, but it's looking promising.
If you are interested in learning more about HempCon, click there. If you have the spoons and the cash, it's an interesting event. Take a look at the schwag we scored!
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Reminder: Medicinal cannabis (pot, marijuana) is legal in my neck of the states, and I have a prescription. I adhere to all laws to the best of my knowledge, and encourage you to do the same. I also encourage you to seek out whatever gives you pain relief, in the best way you can.
I spent the afternoon before our evening HempCon trip panicking a little. I'd walked the dog just a quarter mile too far in the morning, and was worried that I'd already spread myself too thinly and would end up crying in the middle of a crowd. There were no food or drinks allowed, so I was afraid that they wouldn't let me bring in my own huge bottle of water and smaller bottle of coffee. I knew there'd be a lot of walking, and there was a strict "no smoking" policy on the grounds, which made me curious as to how all of the medical marijuana patients were going to medicate themselves, if need be. And we were originally going to take public transport, which is a whole other ball of worms.
So, after calming my panic with soothing noises and vague promises of solving all my problems, my boyfriend carefully planned it so we had the use of our neighbor's van (I love you guys!), he called someone he knew who was working the event and was reassured that they had no interest in my non-disposable beverage containers. There was no organized smoking situation at the venue, but my so-smart boyfriend reminded me that we could always take a walk if I needed to medicate. Convinced enough that I wouldn't be walking directly into a viper pit of pain, we went.
The convention wasn't as big as I expected. It was split into two sections, the first was accessible to everyone over 18. There were pipes and grow lights and a booth with several massage chairs and clothing stands and even hemp ale, which we didn't try. This first section was worth a quick walkthrough, but nothing held our attention for long. Then, there was an area you couldn't get into without a hand stamp. We showed our IDs, my recommendation and the boyfriend's caregiver paperwork, got our stamps, and stepped behind the curtain into the true HempCon.
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| Free Edibles! Cannabis delivery! I've found my happy place. |
There were many food booths, candy bars, "potcorn", cocoa rice krispie treats, chocolate, brownies, lollipops, and fudge.
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| Cocoa Cannabis Rice Krispie Treat. The best medicine ever. |
There were even more elaborate pipes and bongs, and some truly beautiful glass pieces. They weren't selling marijuana directly, but there was one booth where you could buy a water bottle and get a substantial "free sample" with it. They also had clones (cuttings of fully grown plants, which would then grow and flower for your consumption), but none of them were robust enough or cheap enough for us to bite.
The experience was exhausting. It was a huge tent/warehouse thing. It was loud. It was bright. And it was crowded.
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| A busy booth with a Bob Marley print displayed. |
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| Another busy booth. |
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| Free BBQ! OMGWTF! |
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| Crowded |
There wasn't adequate seating around the booth area. I ended up sitting on the floor, as far out of the way as I could get, for probably 45 minutes total. (Hence the perspective of the above three shots.) My boyfriend would go register us for this or that, bringing me papers to fill out and samples to try, while I rested and drank water. My boyfriend did all the talking for me and collected information on delivery services and strange and interesting methods of ingestion, which I may be experimenting with soon.
As I previously panicked, er, mentioned, there was no smoking on premises, or so the rules stated, but I was shocked (shocked!!) that the edibles seemed to help and I really didn't feel a need to medicate the entire time we were there. I mean, I kept both earplugs in and my hat on the whole time, but I brought my sunglasses, minty "headache oil", and various emergency pharmaceuticals and didn't end up needing any of it. Then, I got home and still didn't need to medicate! For the rest of the night! Apparently, my previous edibles experiments have been defunct either because I wasn't consuming quality goods, or because wasn't consuming enough. I can't, unfortunately, be eating brownies and fudge and gobs of thc butter every day, but I like knowing I have the option, if I'm stuck somewhere where smoking is impossible or difficult. Also, my recent sleep anxiety is null with the edibles. I'm still very early in my experimenting, but it's looking promising.
If you are interested in learning more about HempCon, click there. If you have the spoons and the cash, it's an interesting event. Take a look at the schwag we scored!
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| Chocolatey treats and t-shirts and coupons and stickers and pamphlets galore. Photo and lovely arrangement on the busiest bedspread ever courtesy of Boyfriend, My. |
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Sunday, January 23, 2011
Creativity Keeps Me Sane
And I'm sick again. The hell.
Since I've been unable to leave my house without abject misery, keeping happy and entertained is essential. The internet provides me with all the movies and tv I can zone out on, and for that, I am so grateful. But all that passive input tends to leave my brain feeling soft-boiled, and it does nothing for the claustrophobic panic that can set in when I've been trapped indoors for too long. So, today, I am going to share with you some creative pursuits that have kept me from going off the deep end.
First, some migraine art.
Also, a while back I was feeling angsty and depressed, during a similar stretch of not leaving the house. Instead of stressing out, or taking meds that I'd rather avoid, I was able to keep myself present and lower my stress significantly with some empowering collaging. I made these from a few women's magazines. You know the ones that tell you how to keep your man and lose ten pounds and how to do this season's eyeliner and what clothes you should be buying? It was damned therapeutic cutting those up. Here are the results:
I've listed a few of the phrases, but if there are any you can't read, or if you'd like me to transcribe them, let me know.
I've had the collages hanging on my wall in the kitchen, so I see them, and their positive messages, every day. I don't usually stop and read, but I'll glance as I pass by and catch a happy message or two, and if I'm not feeling well, it can really improve my state of mind to take a moment and soak in the self-love.
Art is the most wonderful therapy.
More...
Since I've been unable to leave my house without abject misery, keeping happy and entertained is essential. The internet provides me with all the movies and tv I can zone out on, and for that, I am so grateful. But all that passive input tends to leave my brain feeling soft-boiled, and it does nothing for the claustrophobic panic that can set in when I've been trapped indoors for too long. So, today, I am going to share with you some creative pursuits that have kept me from going off the deep end.
First, some migraine art.
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Also, a while back I was feeling angsty and depressed, during a similar stretch of not leaving the house. Instead of stressing out, or taking meds that I'd rather avoid, I was able to keep myself present and lower my stress significantly with some empowering collaging. I made these from a few women's magazines. You know the ones that tell you how to keep your man and lose ten pounds and how to do this season's eyeliner and what clothes you should be buying? It was damned therapeutic cutting those up. Here are the results:
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| And 8.5" x11" piece of paper of covered with scraps of magazine headlines. The messages are all positive, and include phrases like: "You'll never need plastic surgery", "You need to live", "smart food", "more than beautiful", and "everyone deserves to be healthy and wise" |
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| A second collage is covered with yet more happy thoughts, like "wild at heart", "It's ok", "go forth", "I've always been a strong girl and I never took crap from anyone", "yes!" and "live for comfort".There are a few messy spots because I made the glue from flour and water and pretty much slopped it everywhere. |
I've listed a few of the phrases, but if there are any you can't read, or if you'd like me to transcribe them, let me know.
I've had the collages hanging on my wall in the kitchen, so I see them, and their positive messages, every day. I don't usually stop and read, but I'll glance as I pass by and catch a happy message or two, and if I'm not feeling well, it can really improve my state of mind to take a moment and soak in the self-love.
Art is the most wonderful therapy.
More...
Monday, January 17, 2011
Again With the Marijuana
So, I've gone over my usage of marijuana for pain relief. In real life, I'm not exactly secretive about it, but I certainly don't volunteer the information unless it's necessary. There are a few reasons I avoid the subject of my pain relief. The big one is stigma. I'm already a young woman who accepts government assistance because I am severely disabled by my chronic migraines. I count five reasons in that sentence for the general public to give me the stink-eye. Now I get to be a neurotic, hypochondriac, malingering, pothead? It's just too much for the casual observer to take in without suspicion. Apparently.
Then, there's the party crowd. The custom among them is to share marijuana with any immediate company who wishes to partake. Of course, I never offer mine. First, it's illegal for me to share any of my prescription drugs with another person, whether it's a pill or a plant. Second, even if it was legal, I don't have the cash or inclination to be passing out my pain meds. I need them. For pain.
To avoid these uncomfortable confrontations, which usually end up taking place at the worst times (while I need to medicate), my habit has been to find somewhere private if at all possible, go around a corner where no one can really see what I'm doing. But secrecy leaves a bad taste in my mouth, so I've recently been exploring confronting the situation head on. It definitely takes spoons to explain myself, defend myself, and not show my irritation that ONCE AGAIN I am explaining myself and defending myself, but it's worth it when people get it. And when they don't, well, that's really not my problem. It's legal and I have a prescription. I try to be respectful of other people's discomfort, but also, I'm going to take care of myself without apology.
I feel incredibly lucky that marijuana works as well as it does for me. After the first year of chronic daily migraines with no relief, and useless prescription after prescription, I was feeling pretty low. I just couldn't function through the pain, and I was miserable. I clearly recall the first time I smoked marijuana after my migraines started. It was a normal pain day, and I really hadn't gotten off of the couch in a week. Just a few minutes after smoking, I was smiling and laughing and talking with passion, and it was just shocking because I really hadn't laughed in months.
Marijuana changed everything. Now I'm only suicidal a few times a month, at most. (No, really, that's good.) I can usually keep up with the dishes and laundry. I get out of the house at least weekly without it always being torture. And I'm enjoying things, without the pain having to be the focus of everything. And that feeling, of having pain but it not mattering so much, that carries over into the rest of my life, and makes dealing, the constant dealing, a little more dealable.
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Then, there's the party crowd. The custom among them is to share marijuana with any immediate company who wishes to partake. Of course, I never offer mine. First, it's illegal for me to share any of my prescription drugs with another person, whether it's a pill or a plant. Second, even if it was legal, I don't have the cash or inclination to be passing out my pain meds. I need them. For pain.
To avoid these uncomfortable confrontations, which usually end up taking place at the worst times (while I need to medicate), my habit has been to find somewhere private if at all possible, go around a corner where no one can really see what I'm doing. But secrecy leaves a bad taste in my mouth, so I've recently been exploring confronting the situation head on. It definitely takes spoons to explain myself, defend myself, and not show my irritation that ONCE AGAIN I am explaining myself and defending myself, but it's worth it when people get it. And when they don't, well, that's really not my problem. It's legal and I have a prescription. I try to be respectful of other people's discomfort, but also, I'm going to take care of myself without apology.
I feel incredibly lucky that marijuana works as well as it does for me. After the first year of chronic daily migraines with no relief, and useless prescription after prescription, I was feeling pretty low. I just couldn't function through the pain, and I was miserable. I clearly recall the first time I smoked marijuana after my migraines started. It was a normal pain day, and I really hadn't gotten off of the couch in a week. Just a few minutes after smoking, I was smiling and laughing and talking with passion, and it was just shocking because I really hadn't laughed in months.
Marijuana changed everything. Now I'm only suicidal a few times a month, at most. (No, really, that's good.) I can usually keep up with the dishes and laundry. I get out of the house at least weekly without it always being torture. And I'm enjoying things, without the pain having to be the focus of everything. And that feeling, of having pain but it not mattering so much, that carries over into the rest of my life, and makes dealing, the constant dealing, a little more dealable.
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Sunday, January 16, 2011
River of Consciousness
I've been spending WAY too much time on the computer. Though, I've been getting on the treadmill regularly enough, and I've been doing my stretches, so I forgive myself for my inactivity. I'm trying to stay mobile, but I've been on the crappier end of the head spectrum pretty consistently since christmas. Here's my theory as to why:
Firstly, christmas was super christmasy. But, I was actually bouncing back pretty well when I fell off my bike on New Year's Eve. I fell HARD. It rattled my whole body, including my head, for several days. Then I got my period, which always starts off with a bang. Then I got a cold, complete with head stuffiness and coughing. My birthday was somewhere in there, mostly ignored. Once the cold started to fade, I managed to score myself a very painful crick in my back, which is still shooting death rays of lightning torture into my skull. And then, yesterday, I pulled up those bootstraps, slapped on a little blusher and some accessories and faked the hell out of it at a smallish birthday dinner, which may or may not floor me for the next week.
During all of this bodily drama, my head has been pretty displeased. As far as daily life, I'm staying mostly on top of the dishes and laundry, and I've been cooking a few interesting meals and even reconstructing some clothes, but getting out of the house has been nearly impossible. At the first truck roaring by, or the sun glinting off of a windshield or the incessant barking of the neighbor's chihuahua, I am plunged into an addled fog of nauseous throbbing. So, I've been staying in. Some noises follow me inside, like the leafblowers and the airplanes, but the muffling effect of four walls is enough to keep me from totally shorting out, though I do have to plug my ears when the fire trucks go by. Sometimes I think they honk the horn just for me.
I have a dental visit coming up, and a visit with a very special specialist. I am nervous and hopeful for both.
I'm on a hot tea kick right now. I've been cycling between chamomile, lemon verbena, mint and ginger. It's been cold, even in my temperate edge of the states, and wearing an icepack can be torturous right now. The perfect balance to the icepack is a microwaveable hot pack on my feet or belly and a cuppa warming my hands and steaming into my face. It's just delicious.
I made a really good split-pea soup the other day. Besides the peas, it involved roasted poblanos, plain and roasted garlic, onions, red potatoes, and broccoli. This was another culinary first, that I can't believe I took so long to get around to.
Oh, and then I had this weird dream the other night.
I don't really remember anything but the last few seconds of it. I was dreaming about something boring, there were some loved ones around me, we were talking. It wasn't stressful, but wasn't a super-happy dream either. Suddenly, I was jerked from that dream and was aware of laying on my right side in my bed. I felt awake. I felt a touch on my left hip. I woke up for real as I turned to defend myself and gasped aloud, "No!" I was disoriented in the dark for a moment, trying to remember what was real and what was a dream. My first muddled thought was that it felt like a ghost. Spooky! I didn't wake anyone else with my little yell, and did get back to sleep for another hour or so, but I felt extra discombobulated and sensitive for the rest of that day. But thinking about it, I get all kinds of weird dreams when I'm migraining and/or in pain, so it could be that my head caused the dream and not the other way around.
I'm not sleeping great in general. I'm getting up to pee several times a night, and waking in the morning feeling sluggish and irritable, stiff and in pain. I'm having some anxiety falling asleep too, and have been leaving the lights on. I tried melatonin, but it didn't help, probably because my problem isn't falling asleep, it's staying asleep. I'm going to try some valerian tonight. Worst case, I can take muscle relaxants, but those can be overkill. I don't want a coma, I just want REM and to sleep through the night every now and again.
Speaking of, YAWN. Wish me luck.
More...
Firstly, christmas was super christmasy. But, I was actually bouncing back pretty well when I fell off my bike on New Year's Eve. I fell HARD. It rattled my whole body, including my head, for several days. Then I got my period, which always starts off with a bang. Then I got a cold, complete with head stuffiness and coughing. My birthday was somewhere in there, mostly ignored. Once the cold started to fade, I managed to score myself a very painful crick in my back, which is still shooting death rays of lightning torture into my skull. And then, yesterday, I pulled up those bootstraps, slapped on a little blusher and some accessories and faked the hell out of it at a smallish birthday dinner, which may or may not floor me for the next week.
During all of this bodily drama, my head has been pretty displeased. As far as daily life, I'm staying mostly on top of the dishes and laundry, and I've been cooking a few interesting meals and even reconstructing some clothes, but getting out of the house has been nearly impossible. At the first truck roaring by, or the sun glinting off of a windshield or the incessant barking of the neighbor's chihuahua, I am plunged into an addled fog of nauseous throbbing. So, I've been staying in. Some noises follow me inside, like the leafblowers and the airplanes, but the muffling effect of four walls is enough to keep me from totally shorting out, though I do have to plug my ears when the fire trucks go by. Sometimes I think they honk the horn just for me.
I have a dental visit coming up, and a visit with a very special specialist. I am nervous and hopeful for both.
I'm on a hot tea kick right now. I've been cycling between chamomile, lemon verbena, mint and ginger. It's been cold, even in my temperate edge of the states, and wearing an icepack can be torturous right now. The perfect balance to the icepack is a microwaveable hot pack on my feet or belly and a cuppa warming my hands and steaming into my face. It's just delicious.
I made a really good split-pea soup the other day. Besides the peas, it involved roasted poblanos, plain and roasted garlic, onions, red potatoes, and broccoli. This was another culinary first, that I can't believe I took so long to get around to.
Oh, and then I had this weird dream the other night.
I don't really remember anything but the last few seconds of it. I was dreaming about something boring, there were some loved ones around me, we were talking. It wasn't stressful, but wasn't a super-happy dream either. Suddenly, I was jerked from that dream and was aware of laying on my right side in my bed. I felt awake. I felt a touch on my left hip. I woke up for real as I turned to defend myself and gasped aloud, "No!" I was disoriented in the dark for a moment, trying to remember what was real and what was a dream. My first muddled thought was that it felt like a ghost. Spooky! I didn't wake anyone else with my little yell, and did get back to sleep for another hour or so, but I felt extra discombobulated and sensitive for the rest of that day. But thinking about it, I get all kinds of weird dreams when I'm migraining and/or in pain, so it could be that my head caused the dream and not the other way around.
I'm not sleeping great in general. I'm getting up to pee several times a night, and waking in the morning feeling sluggish and irritable, stiff and in pain. I'm having some anxiety falling asleep too, and have been leaving the lights on. I tried melatonin, but it didn't help, probably because my problem isn't falling asleep, it's staying asleep. I'm going to try some valerian tonight. Worst case, I can take muscle relaxants, but those can be overkill. I don't want a coma, I just want REM and to sleep through the night every now and again.
Speaking of, YAWN. Wish me luck.
More...
Monday, January 10, 2011
This Post Has No Coherent Theme
So, it's going to be my birthday in a few days. I'm keeping it quiet, don't tell anyone.
32. Thirty-two. It doesn't matter much this year. I've been really focused on making myself better lately. My head has been consistently ignoring my attempts, but my soul reacts like dried brush catching flame, in a good way.
I walked to the farmer's market yesterday morning. I couldn't handle the bike. My boyfriend rode his, however, and he ran the dog and carried the bags. It made my load lighter, and gave me a chance to enjoy being outside, for the first time in almost a week. The holidays really took it out of me this year.
So, I'd run across this cooking forum post that mentioned how tasty roasted parsnips are, and I've never had a parsnip, that I can recall, so I made a mental note to look for them next time I'm buying produce. Yesterday, at the market, I found a vegetable that looked convincingly parsnippity. The only problem was that I'd never actually looked up a picture of a parsnip, and all I'd gleaned was that it was a white, root vegetable. So, yesterday, I bought a daikon radish for the first time.
But hey, I roasted it up with some potatoes, carrots, onions, garlic, etc, and it was good! Lately, the key to my happiness is learning new things, so this seemingly boring adventure of cooking with strange (to me) ingredients is actually a huge thrill for me. Food I've never had! I'm cooking it! It tastes good! The happiness is probably ridiculous.
I also picked up a few kohlrabi. I have no idea what to do with them yet. Exciting!
My body never does well with inactivity and this latest bout of largely horizontal living has taken its toll. On the treadmill the other day, my left hip started screaming at me and yesterday, it was my right knee. Usually, just slowly increasing my activity will make these aches and pains ease off, so I've got my fingers crossed.
During the holidays I'd stopped my daily head log, it was all stress and pain and caffeine anyway. I didn't need to record it. But I started it back up on January 1st, just to be a total cliche, and I've changed my format a skosh. I'm no longer recording my food intake, as it was making me feel obsessive. But I am now writing down EVERY symptom that happens EVERY day, or at least as many as I remember. (Memory loss. I keep forgetting that one. Heh.) And I'm taking note of my general activities, like whether I was unable to do anything but internet all day or if I managed a walk, or to cook a meal or two.
One of the first things I did this year was have my boyfriend help me make a duct tape dress form. We used three different colored tapes, and didn't plan the way it came out, but we are both heartily amused by it.
I haven't stuffed the form yet, she's currently hanging on the back of my bedroom door, all deflated. It took her a week to quit the nasty off-gassing, so migraineurs beware. I'm aware that I am referring to her as a she. She has my boobs.
More...
32. Thirty-two. It doesn't matter much this year. I've been really focused on making myself better lately. My head has been consistently ignoring my attempts, but my soul reacts like dried brush catching flame, in a good way.
I walked to the farmer's market yesterday morning. I couldn't handle the bike. My boyfriend rode his, however, and he ran the dog and carried the bags. It made my load lighter, and gave me a chance to enjoy being outside, for the first time in almost a week. The holidays really took it out of me this year.
So, I'd run across this cooking forum post that mentioned how tasty roasted parsnips are, and I've never had a parsnip, that I can recall, so I made a mental note to look for them next time I'm buying produce. Yesterday, at the market, I found a vegetable that looked convincingly parsnippity. The only problem was that I'd never actually looked up a picture of a parsnip, and all I'd gleaned was that it was a white, root vegetable. So, yesterday, I bought a daikon radish for the first time.
But hey, I roasted it up with some potatoes, carrots, onions, garlic, etc, and it was good! Lately, the key to my happiness is learning new things, so this seemingly boring adventure of cooking with strange (to me) ingredients is actually a huge thrill for me. Food I've never had! I'm cooking it! It tastes good! The happiness is probably ridiculous.
I also picked up a few kohlrabi. I have no idea what to do with them yet. Exciting!
My body never does well with inactivity and this latest bout of largely horizontal living has taken its toll. On the treadmill the other day, my left hip started screaming at me and yesterday, it was my right knee. Usually, just slowly increasing my activity will make these aches and pains ease off, so I've got my fingers crossed.
During the holidays I'd stopped my daily head log, it was all stress and pain and caffeine anyway. I didn't need to record it. But I started it back up on January 1st, just to be a total cliche, and I've changed my format a skosh. I'm no longer recording my food intake, as it was making me feel obsessive. But I am now writing down EVERY symptom that happens EVERY day, or at least as many as I remember. (Memory loss. I keep forgetting that one. Heh.) And I'm taking note of my general activities, like whether I was unable to do anything but internet all day or if I managed a walk, or to cook a meal or two.
One of the first things I did this year was have my boyfriend help me make a duct tape dress form. We used three different colored tapes, and didn't plan the way it came out, but we are both heartily amused by it.
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| My body, head cut off to keep these from ending up on facebook, wrapped in different colors of duct tape. My shoulders, arms, upper chest and sternum are gray, my stomach is green and my breasts are blue. My boyfriend says I look like the earth. |
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| The back view: Again, gray shoulders, arms and upper back, but blue and green take over my torso, giving the form a corset-like look. Also, in this pic: flannel pj bottoms, two plastic hampers and a free calendar I got from pillsbury featuring their January covergirl, pot pie. |
I haven't stuffed the form yet, she's currently hanging on the back of my bedroom door, all deflated. It took her a week to quit the nasty off-gassing, so migraineurs beware. I'm aware that I am referring to her as a she. She has my boobs.
More...
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