Dear Stupid Pesky Migraine,

BACK OFF. No, Really, Back the flippin bleep off. Got it? Good. I’m pretending that you are just a regular, tiny headache and I’m still in full control of my life. Sure, I’ve dimmed the lights, for a cozy, romantic look but that proves nothing.  I just have a minor headache and even though I am squinting, it’s because I took off my glasses so I could see better. You understand, I’m sure.

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I’m new to this world of migraines so I don’t have a whole lot of experience, do I take that preventive medicine now or am I wasting it? I don’t know. I really don’t, I guess I’ll wait, in an hour it will be better or much worse.

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I know I am tired, I have been tired all day because I didn’t get enough sleep and I wish I could tell you that I had a great time last night drinking and dancing at some fab party but frankly I haven’t been to a party since my sister’s surprise party which really wasn’t that much of a surprise.There was no drinking or dancing there (at least for me) just Jane’s quinoa salad which I hate to admit, I really liked, because she had raisins and craisins and dried apricots in it. Fruity quinoa, who knew?

Why have I recently developed migraines at the advanced age of 57 years of age? I have no flippin’ idea. I got through the first one at the ER after hours of agonizing pain

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and finally they gave me a shot of something wonderful so I could get some sleep and the pain eased away so very slowly. I discharged myself after the first round of medication because I wanted to be home in my own bed. My counterpart in the next bed, with the same exact diagnosis, chose to stay in the hospital and get another dose of pain relief.

Can’t say that I blame her, looking back, If I had known then what I knew now, I’d still be in that bed smiling in my safe slumber. I wish they had given me a strong medication to take with me but they don’t trust us normal pain people with “abusive substances” as if one Percocet would put us over the edge. Anyway, all I wanted was to get out of the hospital, infestation hotel of germs and creepy-crawley things.

So, do you really think I needed ANOTHER INVISIBLE ILLNESS to add to my plethora of symptoms because frankly, I thought I had enough. I KNOW I had enough. Is this some cruel joke or do you think this is wildly hysterically funny?

I’m not laughing, I’m disgusted, fed up and sick of all these unrelated illnesses that I keep dreaming about a miracle cure or at least ONE interested doctor that will take it upon him/herself to try to figure it out. Got no volunteers except the mother of a son (who used to be friends with my son) in elementary school. That’s the closest I have and I truly appreciate her interest. Nobody cares, anymore. That’s what it feels like, that’s what it is.

All those one in a million doctors that take the extra time to try to solve the puzzle, I haven’t found one yet and yes, I’ve been looking. Any volunteers?  I will beg if you want me to but nobody is sending me emails or sending me SOS messages that spell out ” I WOULD LOVE TO HELP YOU ANSWER THIS MYSTERY, LEAN ON ME.”

In the end we each have our own shit we have to go through. I sure have mine. Apparently, It will stay mine forever. All mine. Because, in the end, nobody cares, let me introduce you to Medicine 101.”IT’S JUST NOT THEIR JOB, DEAL WITH IT, IT’S ALL UP TO YOU. LOOK WHO IS LAUGHING NOW, IT SURE ISN’T ME!”

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The Most Impulsive Thing I've Ever Done

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“Please Come To Boston In The Springtime…..”

Move. I was living in Brooklyn, working at Paramount Pictures when I got sick with mono and broke my ankle. They stole my job away from me (Thanks, Diana) and I needed a new start.

After working out a deal with PPC, I got unemployment and health insurance but had no job or at least no job that was comparable to the one I held. (Again, Thanks, Diana.) It was during the seventies and Affirmative Action was newly discovered and revered. It was at that point when our boss, Diana, added a J. to her first name. All of a sudden she was J. Diana,( J for Juanita.) All her employees laughed behind her back, but it was SO Diana. I happen to know she has dropped the “J” since. I bumped into her near Starbucks one day about thirty years after I worked there and she still gave the same, big, fake smile, on her heavily painted (and probably surgically enhanced) duplicitous made-up face.

After that incident, I decided I wanted to move, so by myself, (and with my parents permission!?) I traveled to several different cities to see if I would like to put down roots. I spent an entire day on a smelly Greyhound bus to go from NY to Portland, Maine and then from Portland to Bar Harbor, Maine. I stayed a few days in each place but it didn’t seem like a fit. I landed up in Boston and lived there for many years. I thought my best friend Matthew would be moving there too but he changed his mind. I waited for him to come for longer than I should have and I played “Please Come To Boston” so many times it is engraved in my heart. I will play that song after I post this, that I know for sure.

I got married in Boston, bought a house, had two children there and rooted for the Red Sox. Between you and me, while I don’t still live in Boston, I still root for Red Sox. Don’t tell the Yankees, or my son.

For Matthew and Denise