Today, a migraine.
Tomorrow, probably not the world.
I woke at six this morning with a pounding head, incredibly sore teeth, where I had obviously been stress grinding, and a clenched jaw.
I crashed about in my bedside drawers, unearthed some Nurofen and tried to get back to sleep.
Twenty minutes later, swirls of nausea started washing up from my belly, and I realised it wasn’t going to be a common or garden headache.
I excavated the drawers some more to find my anti emetics, which I promptly took.
By the time the alarm went off I was deep in the throes of trying not to vomit, so that I could keep my anti emetic down long enough for it to take effect.
My head was still pounding, and generally, I felt like I was going to die.
Jason took the children to school, bless him.
I lay there thinking cheering thoughts about whether the top of my head would come off first, or whether my skull would split before it got to that point. I had, by this time, taken my killer pills, which also weren’t making any difference.
By ten thirty I had the sweats and the shakes.
Even though it was absolutely freezing I had to open the bedroom window, because when I was too hot, the sickness came back. Then when I had cooled down I would teeth chatteringly slide under the covers again until the hot sweats made me break cover once more.
I was not sick, but I did lose the contents of my stomach in other, equally unpleasant ways, as my body protested violently and emptied itself out in preparation for death.
I finally surfaced at quarter to three, still feeling like crap, but able to walk about and function – ish.
I pensionered about the place for a bit, getting my sea legs, and remembering things like how to breathe and walk and take small sips of comforting drinks.
My head finally stopped hurting at about fourish, by which time I was ravenous, albeit still slightly queasy. This, I think is possibly the worst state of affairs for a digestive system to be in, and it threw me into a petulant snit. It also reminded me quite violently why, even though I am prone to broodiness at the moment, I definitely do not want more children. During pregnancy I feel like this for forty weeks, in Tallulah’s case, forty two, as she outstayed her welcome quite a bit.
It is devoutly not to be wished.
I decided to attempt to make dinner, and see how it went.
I cooked The Hairy Dieters meatballs in tomato sauce, which we had with angel hair pasta.
It was delicious enough to conquer nausea, and by the time I’d finished it I felt distinctly more chipper.
So hoorah, and huzzah and other things ending in ah.
A happy ending after all.
And yes, I am going to the doctors. I will. I promise. Next week.