Posts Tagged ‘pain


The Morning After The Morning After The Migraine

And I’m still feeling a little stoned.
I didn’t enjoy this a quarter century ago when it involved a bong,
Fried frozen pizza, and an exterminator;
I’m liking it even less now.
It’s not pot this time; it’s Promethazine and I have a prescription.
As long as you have a prescription it’s fine.
Ha! Isn’t that what they always say?
It’s an anti-nausea drug but now I’m wondering
If throwing up might have been better.
Promethazine takes away most of the urge but the pain stays.
And you’re foggy for two days after.
Vomiting hurts like hell at the time but the pain, the tension and the fog leave.
It’s like your whole system gets flushed along with the toilet.
You wake up the next morning feeling like I did in Mojave.
The air was clear; my head was clear.
There were no jobs but there was no pain.
There were no plants and I could breathe.


Pondering The Advisability Of Using A Scientific Or Non-Scientific Method To Choose The Gender Of A Child Before Birth

Some honeyed toast and Roibos tea,
Yogurt and Tylenol to go,
These are the supports I’m hoping will enable me to hobble through this morning.
I’ve had a pain in my left hip for days and at times my whole lower back seizes up.
(“Why don’t you go to Kaiser? That’s what you have insurance for.”
Because I’m sick of being there so many weekends and having them say, “Yes, it’s true. You’re getting old.”
Then last time it turned out to be a bladder infection and not “something very common in women your age”.)
My daughter has her big interview today and she is in the bathroom cursing
The inventor of black pants,
The wrinkles that naturally occur in fabric if you roll it into a ball
Her grandmother’s cat with which she has a love/hate relationship-
Judging from the words filtering through the crack in the bathroom door,
This morning the relationship has moved emphatically towards the hate side
And is bordering on the homicidal, at least on Anna’s part.
Of course she could always give up on the black pants and the lint roller and wear her new jeans to the interview.
She is probably really supposed to be there at 10 rather than 9:30 and my mother said that to trick us into being on time.
I keep telling her we have to have a little excitement so this will make a good story later on
And that someday- maybe even this afternoon- she will look back and laugh and laugh.
But, of course, my words are falling on figuratively deaf ears.
I love her but I can’t help wondering: Are the boys like this this morning?
Are they rushing about fretting over lint rollers and hair product and the lack of a flat brush and why are there only round ones?
Or did they just get up when the alarm went off, put on their shirt and tie, tuck a napkin into their collar, and eat their breakfast?
How much of a drama queen can a straight boy be?
Still, this is the kind of excitement that occurs only four or maybe five times in a girl’s lifetime, right?
So we should be enjoying it, living in the moment.
Then later today she can explain why in the hell she set the alarm clock for ten minutes to six.