Pink Floyd

I'm pretty sure if the last week was set to a soundtrack, Pink Floyd would be a big part of it.

I woke up last Wednesday with pain in my mandibular joint that was so far off the charts of hurt, I can't even properly express it here.

I Advil-ed up and made it through the day, but noticed a peculiar thing.  When I sat down, the pain was infinitely worse.  Like, unendurable.  As I laid down for bed that night, lamenting all my outdated, empty prescriptions that usually help me through such problems, I realized that sleep would be impossible. 

I leaned against my headboard with my back straight up, trying to get the shut eye I needed, but my jaw throbbed with so much anguish I only was only able to get maybe 30 minutes of sleep, most of that by standing unpright with my forehead against the wall.

The next morning I was able to function, (Come on.  I'm a D mom after all!) And went about my regular routine.  Advil.  Advil.  Advil.  Yeah, Advil wouldn't even touch it.  The exhaustion began to weigh on me by noon, and the pain was so far reaching, my mind began to loose its lucidity.  All I wanted was to sit down...to rest for just a few minutes.  But that was not an option.  Sitting down meant torture for my jaw.  So I cleaned, and once in awhile stood with my forehead against the wall, my eyes closed, tears streaming down my face.

I called the doctor to refill my prescriptions and he (of course) insisted on seeing me.  The appointment would be in one hour.  I could do this.

Except the pain, possibly realizing its end, gave one last push in these minutes and took me to that place that made me wonder if just simply 'putting me down' would be cheaper than the meds the doctor was going to prescribe.

I texted my sister and asked her to pick up the boys from school.   Sitting in the car that morning was torture.  I couldn't endure it again.

"Do you want me to call you a waaaa-mbulance?"  She texted back.

"Maybe.  I'll let you know."

At that moment my friend showed up at the door with a dozen roses. 

'Cause maybe I forgot to mention it was Valentine's Day.   Oh, and did I forget to tell you I was having 8 people over for dinner for the occasion too?

As my friend knocked on the door, and I answered, with silent, tortured tears streaming down my face, the horror washed over her before I could say a word,

"I knew this was a stupid idea." she said as she hastily hid the flowers behind her back.

"No! it isn't that."  I exclaimed trying not to smile.  Smiling hurt.

I explained the pain and the exhaustion I was in, I used a pretty big swear word, and that was all she needed to come rescue me.  She drove me to the doc, and to the pharmacy, and I was in business with a set of four very powerful drugs.

The doctor asked me a myriad of questions, the funniest of which was, "This kind of pain is caused by tensing the jaw from stress.  Are you under any stress?"

"You're going to make me laugh.  Please stop."

"If you can find a way to relax, and not be stressed it would help you immensely."

"No really.  I can't laugh.  Please stop."

My mother in law called.  She would make the bulk of the dinner, I would only be in charge of the chicken...which I had the teenagers do.  And after seeing the wild eyed look of pain on my face as they walked in the door...they were completely happy to complete the task.

I took three of the new drugs 30 minutes before my dinner party.

I was able to greet everyone and fill my plate with food, take two bites and then promptly excuse myself where I plopped face first on my bed and completely passed out.  Getting up every now and then over the next 12 hours to throw up from said meds. 

Happy Valentine's Day, Meri!

I slept for a good three days.  In and out of a drug induced haze.  I dreamt of Ryan A LOT. 

I remember snippets of conversations here and there between the boys and my sister in law.

"Check your blood sugar."

"Put this away."

"Lisa, I'm low!"

Going to bed and putting the boys sugars in Lisa's hands wasn't very hard, but the guilt that constantly poked at me got pretty annoying.

"I don't understand.  They were all in the mid one hundreds at midnight, and then I checked them at 2:30 and they all popped up to the high two hundreds.  How?  Why?"

"Stop making me laugh.  It hurts."

"But it makes no sense."  She says.

"Please.  Can't.  Smile.  Hurts."

As I came to be more of myself and the pain began to ebb, I joined the family here and there, but was still a bit on the loopy side.  Four days of my life, a complete blur.  I couldn't drive.  Thankfully M was able to drive us to church and all the various places the boys needed to be to.

I remember the first hour of church on Sunday, But not the rest.

It was a really good lesson.  One I NEEDED to hear.  "How to receive inspiration." I tried so hard to listen and stay awake, and yet I was in and out of consciousness during the whole thing.

Sunday afternoon I needed to work on B's state report with him, but as I saw Lisa sit down with him out of the corner of my eye, I passed out again.

I'm happy to report that I am off the pain meds now and living a fairly lucid life.  A relief to my mother I am sure, as she phoned me the day I was prescribed my drugs, worried that I might become addicted.

Which sounds like a completely thrilling prospect, except I need to be a pancreas to my boys.  And pancreases must be mentally present at all times. 

Unfortunately.

There is no lesson here.  And really no reason for me to write all of this except maybe to give my sister in law Lisa the accolades she deserves.  She jumped in and mothered, pancreased? my boys without missing a beat.  I am so thankful for her willingness to take over when I was down for the count.

I may not be lucky in some things, but I am very lucky in others.

With my in laws, and my friends, I hit the jackpot.

Writing that last sentence makes me smile.  And thankfully, right now, it doesn't even hurt.