A Day to Remember

DISCLAIMER: This post is not exciting and probably not interesting to you. However, since this is my "journal" (well, other than the fuzzy pink diary where I write all of my deep, dark secrets, ha ha) I feel the need to document my weekend of illness. So stop reading if you don't care. Seriously. You'll be bored.

Saturday I woke up with a headache. I took some medicine in hopes that it would nip it in the bud. At 1:00 I got a migraine aura, stopped my "save the marigolds" project (to be written about later) and went inside to lay down. (Okay, I say "Lay" because I'm from Utah; Nils says "Lie" because he's an Easterner and was educated properly. I know I'm wrong grammatically, but to me "lie" means to not tell the truth. I just can't get past it. Sorry- Can you tell I've been hopped up on narcotics all weekend?)

My headache did not go away. Oh no, it did not go away. It got worse. Sleep was elusive and not helping, medicine wasn't helping, time wasn't helping. I went to bed Saturday night, would doze for a few minutes, but the pain literally kept me up all night. This was the worst headache I have ever had in my life. Ever. I'm a headache connoisseur, I'll have you know. I thought I was having a stroke. I finally woke Nils up Sunday at 4:30 a.m. for a blessing, and all I could think was to call the doctor as soon as the hour was no longer ungodly. I hate calling doctors after hours. I'm sure they get all kinds of psychos that just want attention, so I try my best not to be one of those.

I called my Hallmark doctor at 7:45 a.m., told him I was having the worst headache of my life, blah blah blah. He said, "Go to the hospital, and hopefully we won' t have to deliver you." Always comforting. Off we went, but not before I put the roast in the crock pot. Always thinkin', Katrina, always thinkin'.

At the hospital my blood pressure was FABULOUS! 110/78, baby! Does it get any better? I think not- so why would I be having a stroke? The nurse noticed that I was pretty congested, which I have been for a couple weeks. In the back of my mind I suspected I may have a sinus infection, but what a stupid reason to be in LABOR AND DELIVERY. The doctor came in on his WAY TO CHURCH, happily told me we didn't have to deliver, and I told him I had I sinus infection and felt like an idiot. He said, "Oh, no, it's okay, I had to come anyway for some blah blah blah" which I translated to mean, "I'm late for sacrament meeting, but I took a code of ethics in medical school- so I have to be here, CRAZY WOMAN!"

After a nice shot of morphine (ahhhhhh, morphine) and a Z-pack (ahhhhh, Z-pack) I went home, completely stoned and loving it, and went to bed until 3:30. Nils' family came over last night for dinner, and somehow I was able to prepare a big dinner for them. Morphine. I was totally stoned while they were over. I couldn't think of words- like the rice was "sticky", but after trying for 5 minutes to say "sticky", someone had to say it for me.

The moral of this story is: The next time you think you're having a stroke, it's probably just a sinus infection. But don't hesitate to go to Labor and Delivery to have it taken care of; they'll give you morphine.