Friday, October 23, 2009


Don't get me wrong, I have a great life. I am a blessed women with great kids and a great husband, great friends, a great family, a great job, we live comfortably, those around me are healthy and happy. I like my life. But, let's get real, sometimes life is stressful and no matter how perfect you think your life is, sometimes it is hard. It is hard to keep up around the house, it is hard to always make sure you keep your temper in check around your kids, it is hard to not show a little emotion at work, it is hard to make sure your husband gets the attention he deserves, and it is hard to do anything for yourself until your body really can't take it anymore.

Let me tell you about my Tuesday evening....
Right before I left work that night I started getting some spotted vision. That is about the best I can describe it. I had no peripheral vision on my right side and if I was looking at a document on the computer, trying to read a word, I would only be able to see a couple of letters of that word. I think it is no big deal and that it will quickly pass. That wasn't the case. I was on my way home and something happened. I don't know what happened. One second I am driving in the passing lane and the next I am jumping like I had just been startled. Had I fallen asleep, had I passed out, did I hit my breaks? I don't have a clue. I proceed down the highway and there is a guy in a car trying to get my attention. I am hesitant to look over. I finally do and he is trying to explain that I just hit him. I am in complete disagreement thinking I would have known if I hit him. We finally pull over and at this point I am trying to talk to the man and can't get a single word out of my mouth. I am trying to tell him I don't feel well and that I don't know what happened, but I could not figure out how to say the words. The guy probably thought I was loaded or something.

We get things worked out, I finally found the right card to give him for my insurance and we go on our own ways. There was a minor dent in his bumper and nothing wrong with my car, by the way. I proceed on my way home and I am trying to talk out loud to myself to see if I can talk at this point. The words were still not coming. I tried to look in my phone to call the babysitter to let her know that I was running late and I can't remember her name. She has been my babysitter for 3 years now and I can't remember her name. I am still not freaking out at this point, just trying to get the words to come out of my mouth. I finally remembered Lisa's name and gave her a quick call and was able to tell her I was running late and that was it.

I got to her house and was able to tell her enough of the story. She was really concerned and offered to give me a ride home, but I felt ok enough by that point. I headed to the gas station and then on to the house. Once I got home, I freaked out. I called my dad because Dale wasn't home yet. Dale's mom came to get the boys and Dad was ready to take me to the ER. Dale had just pulled into the driveway, so I tried to tell him what happened and am still freaking out about the whole thing. I'm thinking I had some kind of a mini stroke or blood clot or something.

So, a LONG night in the ER, a whole 'nother story later, and a cat scan and it turns out it was a migraine. I guess the stress from the previous week or who knows how long had been building and my body had had enough. It was crazy and I am lucky something worse didn't happen and so was everyone else on that road for that matter. I am still in disbelief that this happened and the way it happened. I have not had migraines before and I am going to do all I can not to get another one. This is an experience I do not want to go through again.

I had a pretty stressful week the week before, but nothing like the weeks when the transmission went out in my car followed by the week we had our miscarriage. I am sure those were way more stressful especially back to back than my measly little stress last week. Maybe the ever approaching 3-0 has a lot more baggage it is dragging along with it. My body sure can't take what it use to and I hate calling myself a women. Maybe I am not feeling so neutral about turning 30 any longer.

I am feeling much better finally under some great care of my husband. I'm not use to being the one who needs to be taken care of, but it sure feels nice to know some one's got my back when I really need it.

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