I got another migraine today, the second one in a week. Usually I only get them once every few months - I start seeing these shimmery little rainbows in a circle that gets wider over about a half an hour, and then all of a sudden they're gone... and then I become conscious two hours later, curled into the fetal position on the living room rug, massaging my own temples, and moaning like a sorority girl with her head in the toilet. This isn't THAT bad when it's once every few months. Kind of like an appointment with the Lady Doctor, or Christmas shopping. You just have to go through it, so suck it up.

This time, though, I was more than a little freaked out. For one thing, I was babysitting at the time, and I was more than a little reluctant to assume the position while I'm supervising other people's kids. Were it just me and my Nonos, of course, I'd hit the floor before you could say "child protective services." She's cool, she'd just play with her Teetos* or possibly her burfeeler* and occasionally that screwdriver she uses to clean her ears. It's all good.

* Teetos = potatoes = Mr. Potatohead and the Spud Buds, a Motownesque assortment of vegetables with rearrangeable parts. The carrot I can go for, but the corn, whose arms hold a cell phone and several dollar bills, is just too weird. Why does plastic corn need a phone and cash? Is he dealing butter and salt?

** burfeeler = bird feeder. We have two, and for some reason, Norah won't let me hang the smaller one back up. Rather, she drags it around the house and uses it as a purse, filling it with whatever flotsam she finds on her route. Yesterday that included my car keys, a plastic spork, and, in a moment of Nonos clarity, a fake bluejay from a centerpiece we used at an old office o' mine.

Anyway. So I had kids plural, and because I was all responsible and stuff, I gulped down several Motrin and hoped for the best. While I was waiting for the shimmers to go away, though, I had plenty of time to consider the other person who used to get a lot of migraines in quick succession: my grandmother. My grandmother who died of a brain hemorrhage.

It's funny how you can get the sniffles and they'll turn into ebola by the time you find the kleenex. I'm sure it was just another migraine, possibly brought on by the bright hot sun, or maybe because I was really tired from staying up to watch Lost last night (which, to digress slightly, was SO SAD OH MY GOODNESS that thing with Sun!). But I've been thinking about my grandmother a lot lately, and so my migraine blossomed into an ugly tumor of panic by the time the rainbows disappeared. And they did disappear, and the Motrin jumped in front of the pain and kept me from hitting the floor, and everyone was fine. Everyone but my inner voice, who cried because she thought she was done grieving, and instead had her heart pulled by a bad headache.

(i just tagged a bunch of old posts, and rereading a lot of them made me sad and all focused on the dreadful things I thought about earlier. Happy things tomorrow, I promise. Or maybe even in a little while - Rob's working and I'm waiting up, and so I've got far too much time on my hands. I'm on my third episode of SVU - and this one has the PRECIOUS Abigail Breslin! Who knew!?)


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