Migraines, Gastro and a Crooked Tooth

Other titles for this post could include 'The Week From Hell', 'Universe, What Have I Ever Done To You?' and 'I Don't Have Time To Be Sick'. Take your pick.

Really, I've just had the worst week.

In the space of ten days, I was sick for six of them. Abbey was sick for one and injured for another. This is not my idea of fun.

It's been a week where I haven't been able to spring back, to get on with life without falling back down.

It all began the Thursday before last. Happy at having reached the end of the week, with Thursdays and Fridays my two days to work and write, I started out the day well enough. Dropped Abbey off at childcare, went for a jog and had a surprise visit from a good friend for a bit of a chat. Lovely.

Until, after my friend left, that feeling hit me. I've written before about how migraines attack me, and the feeling is always sudden and most unwelcome. And there's not a thing I can do to stop it. The nausea hit, the spots in front of my eyes stopped me from seeing three feet in front of me - and I was in bed for the rest of the day.

The next day wasn't great, either. Migraines have this habit of not just politely leaving; they tend to linger. I'm left feeling extremely weak, still nauseous, the threat of all symptoms returning hanging on a thread. Oh, and starving - I can't fill up after a migraine. So I spent Friday morning completely unproductive with what I call a 'migraine hangover'.

The day got worse. By just after lunchtime, I had a phone call from the childcare centre. Abbey had hurt herself. They told me about it - she had fallen over and cut her lip - and said she was fine now. I know that Abbey's extremely brave, and a cut lip was hardly likely to stop her having fun, so I hung up feeling confident that she'd be fine for the rest of the day.

Ten minutes later, another phone call. 'She's really upset again now, and she's calling for you.' I was out the door really quickly at those words - tell me my little girl needs me and I'll move faster than you can say 'Abbey'.

Her lip was cut quite badly and she was happy to see me. I took her home and we had a quiet afternoon together.

It wasn't until that evening that I noticed the real damage, and I completely understood why she had been so upset. One of her front teeth had been knocked crooked, and her gum was bruised. I was devastated. Her teeth! Her smile! The start of teeth injuries!

So it happened that she had her first visit to the dentist on Saturday morning - one look and he was sure it will all be fine. Phew. (And it is - I can say now, just over a week on, that the bruising is gone and her tooth is already almost straight again!)

And I was relieved that the week of bad luck was over.

Except it wasn't. This week had other ideas. Evil ideas.

By Saturday afternoon, Abbey was throwing up everywhere, and couldn't even keep water down. She was upset, I was upset, and we lay on the couch together for the rest of the day.

She was fine by Sunday, thank goodness. Eating normally, running around... kids have such an amazing ability to bounce back.

But she'd shared the germs with me. I spent all of Tuesday in bed - when I wasn't otherwise indisposed, of course. And Wednesday I was still recovering.

Then came the end to another week - and another migraine. At the shops on Friday, trying to just pick up a few things, I stood in a manchester store and tried to stop myself from crying. The spots had returned. I walked back to my car, close to panic point - it was busy, and I knew there were people all around, but I couldn't see them. I couldn't see where they were. Steve came and picked me up, and I spent the next two days in bed. Again.

And anyone who knows me knows how truly horrible I find being forced to lie down for days at a time. Shudder.

I just hope this next week is better. Please? Pretty please? With a cherry on top?


Megan