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This is my blog (now there is a surprise!). I will be sticking in it poetry, prose, random musings, things that take my fancy and more than likely lots of pictures of cats. I hope you find something to amuse and/or interest you here.

Tuesday 12 April 2011

which came first...

Two weeks ago I had a migraine.  Not one of my asymptomatic 3 month headache jobs but the full blown, multi-sensory experience with flashing lights, hypersensitivity to noise, tactile distortion, dizziness and nausea. 

Fortunately, after a few hours of what one of my college friends insisted on referring to as 'shouting for Hughie down the big white telephone', I managed to keep the medication down long enough for it to kick in.  After that, apart from a tendency to walk into things and stagger a bit, it was almost normal working.  Okay, my mouth and brain were out of sync. and I still wasn't entirely sure what vertical was but I could manage.
One week later and I was still wobbling around.  The best way to describe it is that it felt like my brain had turned to liquid.  When I moved my head, I was fine until I stopped, then my brain sloshed back and forth like coffee in a cup until it reached equilibrium.  Fed up of this, I went to the doctor.

After prodding, testing, looking in my ears and eyes, taking my blood pressure (normal), she chirps brightly: 'a virus'.

So I get seasickness pills(??) and the usual instructions to drink plenty of fluids and rest.  Sorry, lady, I have a job I need to keep and I can't afford time off at the moment. Work it is.
So, another week down the line and I am still in the same state.  I go back to the doctor and what do I get as a diagnosis this time?
Stress.
Look,doc, I am wobbling around.  Customers are telling me I should take more water with it.  I work in a job where I am not allowed to think about alcohol for eight hours before going on duty, let alone drink it.  I could get tested for drugs and alcohol if anyone has reason to think I have had a drink.  To be found to have had a drink is instant dismissal, no pension, no appeal.  Being thought to be under the influence is not good.  On top of that, I am finding it very difficult to read computer screens or paper and my co-ordination is completely shot.  I struggle to form a complete coherent sentence and am so light sensitive I tried to put clip on sunglasses on my specs when I already had a pair on.

OF COURSE I AM BLOODY STRESSED!  NEXT HELPFUL COMMENT?

Carrying on from yesterday, another quick Shadorma

 Am I?

Holding hands
now reality
of being
we are here
but when you are not by me
do I still exist?





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