My head hurts. It has for over 40 years. Longer than many of you have been alive. Can you imagine that? I had a migraine when you were born. I have a migraine now. It hurts. Again. Still. Again. Still. I don’t even know which it is any more.
The company I work for switched insurances at the beginning of the year so the neurologist I’ve gone to forever is no longer covered. I took the last big, scary dream inducing pill that sometimes helps last night. I know. I should have dealt with it before but I hate the whole finding/choosing/going to the doctor bit. I think the insurance company eliminating mine because I’ve cost too much over the years and they’ve decided it would be easier to take me out back and shoot me.
I’m tired. Tired of hurting. Tired of my eyes not focusing together. Tired of being hungry because I’ve reached the point where I know nothing I eat will stay down. Tired of the never-ending frustration. Tired of the tension from fighting tears because I know letting myself cry will make it hurt more. Yeah, I’m just plain tired. Perhaps it really is time to take me out back and shoot me. Any volunteers? Oh wait. This is Reading. I’ll go stand on a street corner for an hour in the wee hours Saturday morning and someone will take care of that for me.
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