The weekend was a write-off.

I spent Saturday curled in a fetal position–when I wasn’t sprinting to the bathroom to throw up. Sunday was much better, except I felt fragile. Like it could all go bad again very fast.

It’s still too close to even write about it in any detail.

“It” is a violent, take no prisoners kind of headache.

I can’t call it a migraine as I’ve never been diagnosed. (They don’t happen frequently enough for me to bother seeing the doctor about them.) I cope by carrying Advil in my purse and drugging myself at the first twinge of anything not quite right in my head. Most of the time, it works, but sometimes . . . wham! . . . I’m down for the count and it’s headache 1, Sailor’s Woman 0.

After this latest experience, it’s time to talk to the doctor. A full-blown headache like this is just too terrible an experience to risk again. My hope is that he gives me something more powerful than my over the counter drug that knocks that headache right out of my head.

Of course, once I’m the epicentre of misery, I can’t keep anything down, even a sip of water sends me running to the bathroom, so I’d have to take it early enough. But I don’t want to start popping prescription pills unnecessarily so I’d probably wait…

I’m calling to make an appointment today…or maybe tomorrow. Today’s looking pretty busy.

Clinique Not So Happy

I’m fortunate enough that when my sailor asked me what I wanted for Christmas, nothing immediately sprang to mind.

Other than big-ticket items like a Mediterranean cruise or a Speedy bag, I have everything I want. As for needs? I honestly don’t NEED anything. Like I said, I’m supremely fortunate.

So the only (reasonable) thing I could think of was a little luxury I haven’t used in years–Clinique Happy Body Wash, a “refreshing gel” that leaves skin “comfortable and lightly scented in clinique happy.” It’s not cheap, but I used to buy it sometimes as a treat that, unlike wine or chocolate, didn’t come with a high calorie count.

My sailor likes to keep me happy (pun intended), so a tube of body wash appeared under the tree.

Last night, I finally cracked it open, bringing a mug of tea, a good novel and a bee’s wax candle in the bathroom with me to complete the spa experience.


Either my tolerance for fragrance has gone way down, or the chemists at Clinique have turbo-charged their shower gel because I smelled liked I’d bathed in a vat of perfume. The scent was so strong it permeated the thick, teddy-bear fur of my onesie when I went to bed and I spent the night verging on a headache.

Next time my sailor asks what I want, I’ll be honest and tell him what would really make me happy. I’ll claim it’s a health and welfare issue.

After all, no one’s ever gotten sick from a Speedy bag.

Comfortable is Good!

After the ordeal:  "If I can't see you, you can't see me!"
The most amazing thing about having my sailor home again is that it feels like he was never away.

The previous six months of worry and angst seemed to go on forever while I was living them, but now it’s like it never happened. As soon as I saw my sailor again and we got to talk and touch, it was like he’d only been gone a couple of days.

It was immediately . . . comfortable.

I realize that comfortable isn’t the stuff of romance novels, (no one will ever make a movie about our relationship!) but it feels pretty good when you’re in it for the long haul.

This is not to say that our reunion weekend went perfectly. Far from it. I’d been battling a cold for a few days before my sailor arrived. Miserable cough or not, I planned to stick to my sailor like glue as he ran around taking care of boring “getting back home” stuff:

His bank card had been de-activated because it hadn’t been used in over six months–trip to the bank to get a new one. The battery in his truck died because I didn’t start it as regularly as I should have while he was away (oops) so he had to get a new one installed. I did say it was boring, but it had to be done and I wanted to do it with him.

Until I woke up with one of those grinding headaches that usually don’t get better until I’ve spent six or seven hours lying quietly in a dark room when I’m not running to the bathroom to throw up. No errands for me!

Since there’s no helping me when I’m in this state, I sent my sailor and our boy for brunch/male bonding. The dog curled up beside me to offer moral support.

The day wasn’t a complete loss. My headache didn’t last as long as they sometimes do. I was a bit fragile, but able to get out of bed by early afternoon–just in time to go grocery shopping with my sailor!

It was the best trip to the grocery store I can remember.