too, I told myself.
The following week I got another headache. Same setting. Home with the children, watching Sesame Street on television, diet cola in my hand. Then it was spin city. Aside from the pain, I was getting annoyed. “I don’t get headaches,” I repeated to myself.
The next morning I headed for the grocery store. “I’d better shop fast in case I get another headache today,” I said to the kids as if they’d really understand. They had no idea what I was talking about. Doing something simple like buying groceries is a big deal when you have three kids under three years of age in tow. Usually I tried to shop when Chuck was home so he could watch the boys, but he got home too late these days. I had to take all three offspring with me. I hoped the store was ready. As we drove there, I tried to talk to the older two about behaving once they were there. They grinned back, mischievously I thought, but maybe I was imagining that.
I found a parking space and after a couple minutes of fumbling with car seats, we were crossing the parking lot and heading towards the front door. Inside the store I lifted Sean into the shopping cart. I hoisted Alex kicking and squealing onto my back. He protested being strapped into the blue-framed backpack. Brian, unaware of what was going on, slept in a front pack laced across my chest, his limp legs swinging with every step I took. “Okay, boys,” I professed with uncertain fortitude, “let’s go get ‘em.”
Pushing my family cargo and the groceries we’d accumulated down aisle ten, I bumped into my next door neighbor, Edith. I adored Edith. She was the “cup of sugar” kind of neighbor. Like family.
“Howdy!” I said as I smiled with surprise.
Edith had a disturbed look on her face.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” I inquired with concern.
“Jan,” she said, “you’re always so well put together. Have you had your pants on backwards all morning?”
“Well,” I laughed, not too surprised that I didn’t look my best, “I thought I had it together.” I winked at her and we began talking of other things.
Suddenly, in a split second, a tiny dot appeared in my field of vision. I blinked, but it didn’t go away. It was a bright pin-hole-sized light inside my eye. Minuscule at first, the pin-point began to grow. It got brighter, too. Growing longer and more brilliant, it magnified into an electrifying jagged line blinding me in a matter of seconds. The line was blurry and fuzzy and annoying. I saw the shifting line whether my eyes were open or closed. It got so large it overcame my vision, eventually disappearing behind my eye. When it maneuvered behind my eye, a horrendous headache struck. Pain like never before. Even more intense than my other recent headaches.
I cried out.
Edith didn’t know what was happening to me. I had no choice but to lean against the grocery shelves, riding out the pain.
“Edith,” I cried out. “Help me. Something’s wrong with my eyes. Take Alex out of the backpack, would you, please?”
Although she was confused, Edith did what I asked without question. Totally liberated now, Alex ran up and down the store aisle, laughing and having the time of his life. Sean wanted to join his brother and squirmed to get out of the cart.
Edith had her two children with her. They wanted to start running around, too. The scene was quickly getting out of control.
Meanwhile, the pain in my head intensified, and I started to sweat. I feared I might have to vomit right between the cereal boxes and the pop-up toaster pastries. Edith stood motionless, unsure about what to do next.
Eventually the pain subsided. I wearily opened my eyes and stood up straight. With Edith’s help, I checked out my purchases. She insisted on driving us home. Gratefully I accepted. At home she unloaded my groceries and gave the kids a snack while I lay down.
“I wish Chuck would get home. I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I said when Edith came into the bedroom to see how I was. “I can’t cope anymore. I wish these headaches would just go away. But they don’t! They come more often and get worse over time.”
“They’re migraines,” Edith interjected.
I guessed she was right. But migraines? Me? How could I be developing migraine headaches all of a sudden?
I had no idea.
I figured perhaps my hectic schedule could be the cause, and I vowed to get better control over the demands in my life. I had to blame something for these recurring headaches. Too little rest. Three toddlers pulling on me all day long. A husband who worked too much. Whatever.
However, no matter how I rearranged the demands of my life in the next few months, nothing helped. I was experiencing at least one bad migraine every day. How could I cope with the boys’ needs when I could barely stand up because of the pain?
Before those first couple of headaches, I never had a problem sleeping. But I was having trouble getting any rest now. And stress. Stress had always pushed me into action instead of getting me down. I was always happy-go-lucky, a person full of energy, always on the go. I loved doing things with my three boys. I enjoyed gardening, taking the children on walks, playing with the dog. I really liked my life. That was, until now. I was changing, both physically and emotionally, and my life was changing. The changes were intensifying, too, and not for the better.
I was losing control of myself day by day. I started having problems with the kids and with my marriage.
Handling the boys had become less rewarding. When they bickered and fought over toys or were messy, I used to see the humor in it. Now I yelled. When they dropped food on the floor, I cried.
I could not seem to keep the house straightened or food prepared.
I continuously asked my husband to spend more time at home. “You’re never around to help,” I protested. “I need more support with the boys. I’m so tired.”
“Okay, Baby,” he replied blankly, but his attention was on the ten o’clock news.
I had no energy. Because I couldn’t get a good night’s sleep, I was worn out during the day. If the boys didn’t take a nap, I got very cross. “Go to sleep!” I screamed at them more than once. “Give Mommy a break. I’m worn out. I’m so tired.” When they finally slept, I’d fall into my own bed for any rest I could steal.
My husband didn’t understand what I was going through. Gone by 7:00 A.M. and not home until after 9:00 P.M. every day, he seemed tired and on edge, too.
Why was I acting like this? Chuck worked hard as a self-employed contractor. I knew this. So why was his routine suddenly bothering me?
“My schedule never bothered you before,” he said.
“It does now!” I snapped back.
Something was happening to me. I didn’t know why I was changing, but something mysterious was taking control of my life.
