It was a wonderful holiday, but I have woken every day for the past 3 weeks with a migraine – a routine which has continued since returning home.
I am fortunate to have medication which, usually, makes me better within an hour or so. I am even more fortunate to have been able to collect another month’s supply of the medication on Friday, thus making me feel secure in these lock-down days, and also giving me the interesting experience of queuing outside the local Boots to be allowed in only in small numbers several metres apart. The whole time I was in there, I tried not to breathe and kept my gloves on, such was my paranoia – but then, I always feel like that when queuing at the pharmacy; usually worse, because my vomiting phobia means I generally imagine I will catch norovirus.
I was also noble in allowing an older gentleman in before me even though I was there first. I confess this was primarily because he was droning on too much (and too close) about it all being China’s fault and listing a load of nonsense I just couldn’t be bothered to listen to, but I suppose I could have gone in and left him outside with the rest of the queue, so it’s still noble, right?
On the migraine front as well as Coronavirus, prevention is better than cure, they say. If only I knew what would work for my headaches – I have spent my whole adult life failing to solve this problem. Last night, I confess to a moment of negativity at bedtime – the thought of waking once again with a pounding head takes away from the pleasure of settling down to read and nod off.
A sudden thought occurred. I had placed my last remaining muesli bar beside my bed to eat with my almost inevitable early morning tablet (it helps it to take effect if I eat something). Perhaps a slug of Baileys cream would do the trick instead of the muesli bar, rather than venture to the plague-ridden shops for more.
Then the thought of having the large bottle of Baileys left over from Christmas on my bedside table made me properly laugh out loud. That cheered me up and I picked up my book.
Desperate measures for desperate times? Hardly. It will only be desperate when we can’t make ourselves laugh about anything.
Cheers!