Yesterday did not go as planned at all. The plan had been to get up at a reasonable hour and head to the US Consulate to see about getting my social security number. Following that I was going to buy paint and finish the wall of my room before picking up Nick to move some shit out of storage into the appartment. Then I was supposed to get Rick and have a quiet night with him uptown with some soup and toast (he'd been sick, you see, and I wasn't feeling so swell myself) and "Mad Max."

What really happened was that I over slept by three hours waking up in the throes of caffeine withdrawl. I infused myself with coffee immediately and had a leisurely breakfast knowing that I had already missed the Consulate. I took a shower and found my headache had gotten worse, so I took some gentle anti-inflamatory medicine which often pre-empts migraines. Then I drove downtown and picked up Nick. We picked up the paint and headed down toward the storage place. It was around 3 o'clock, or something at this point (my watch is presently residing in Nicole's house) and we stopped at Heretic for me to drop some paint chips off for Sandra, before stopping at Java for a sandwich. I, naturally, ordered a brie & avocado sandwich on French bread, but when it arrived, there was a distinct lack of avocado. Two sandwiches later, then, we made it to Public Storage where we opened up the space and Nick was pleasantly surprised to find it being guarded by a life-size Darth Maul. Several useful items later, we had the car loaded up and I phoned Rick to let him know I would be arriving later than we'd thought because of oversleeping.

At the appartment, I got sidetracked, in part as a means to distract myself from an increasingly painful head, cleaning the kitchen cabinets. My God, were they ever foul. I didn't finish them, but left orders with Nick to do the cabinet shelves I had trouble reaching, and proceded to set the glassware that I'd unpacked in handy-to-reach locations. I decided it was well past time for me to finish my wall, which I started with gusto, only to find that the paint fumes went straight to my wickedly sore noggin. I had to stop, pouring the paint back into the can from the tray and leaving the cleaning up to Nick. I knew right then that the headache had become the dreaded migraine, and what I SHOULD have done was taken my meds and laid down on Nick's bed. That is not what I did.

I left for Rick's place, afterall, we had an in-house date, and I phoned him to let him know I was having a migraine but it was bearable. We'd get back to Al & Carrie's and I'd take my meds, sleep for an hour and all would be well. So I thought. By the time I reached Rick's, my head was hurting hugely, but because I was set on returning to the place of my bed, I didn't want to take the Maxalt - which would, of course, render me unable to drive safely - until I got there. A stop at the No Frills for soupy things (the in-house date was still considered a go) left me near tears in the car waiting for Rick to return. What followed was a fast drive home, the pain increasing at ever click of the odometer, until I finally was able to climb into bed. I did so, thinking it was only a matter of time before the Maxalt made it all better.

An hour or two later, I knew I had to go to the hospital. I knew this when I couldn't stop moaning and crying. Rick tried to soothe me, but by telling me not to talk, which seemed impossible to me as I lay there uttering "oh God, oh God, make it stop," and I quite unintentionally told him to "fuck off". I knew then that I could not make it through the night. I told Rick to ask Al & Carrie if one of them could take me to Sunnybrook hospital and Carrie (THANK YOU, CARRIE !) volunteered. The elevator ride and car trip, short as they were, set me to nauseated reeling and by the time I got to the triage nurse I was a weeping mess. I had a dishcloth wrapped around an ineffective icepack held to my forehead and my hand was over my eyes. I barely recall whether I looked at the nurse at all. I do know that I was put through quite quickly.

Rick accompanied me into the emergency room and Carrie stayed out in the waiting room. The doctor came along quickly, I think, a young doctor (as they always are in the emergency rooms) by the name of Dr. Lee. Looking at him through splayed fingers and squinted eyes, he seemed an angel of hope. Especially since he actually took my querry about what narcotic they'd give me quite seriously. I said, no demerol - it never works - but toredol is a charm. He said he'd go for the better anit-inflamatory, which is Maxerin (a relative to Maxalt, perhaps?) and if it didn't work well, they'd dose me with toredol, too. It took a moment for Rick to realise, and then tell me, that when Dr. Lee said he'd set me on an intraveinous, that was NOT the same as an intramuscular. I deluded myself with thinking I'd just get a needle in the arm.

I got an IV pole.

I'm terrified of needles. However, after a bit of hyperventilating and freaking out, I took the needle and sucked it up because it was going to help me. Maybe a half hour after the nurse gave me the needle she came back, checked the empty bag and asked me to describe the pain. On a scale of 1 to 10, and if 10 was what it had been, I replied that it was a 7. She said she'd be back with the toredol. By the time the second drug was coursing through me, the headache was barely a concern, and the nurse returned to find me sitting up waiting to be told to go home. The doctor came back to check on me and found me bouncing with good spirits. I thanked him and he went to find a nurse to unhook me. No problem with the needle now, I was high as a kite. Carrie took us back home and was more than happy to fall into her bed because it was just after midnight.

Actually, three hours is pretty damn good for an emergency room visit, especially considering they didn't just shoot me up and send me home as usual. I will commend Sunnybrook on their excellent emergency room. From what I heard around me, when I cared to listen, was a doctor (Dr. Lee, again) taking no chances with anyone's conditions. I heard him call for a surgeon to see the gentleman in the room beside me, and send a woman up for emergency x-rays of her blockage. No waiting, no poo-pooing the patients, he handled each one with charm and humour. The nurses were the same, each with a sense of humour and a lovely bedside manner. I'm sure it isn't like that all the time, different staff make for different experiences, but they were very good. And funny, and quite laid back. It's nice to hear the staff able to laugh and joke.

Anyway, the long story is that I never got a chance to have my nice evening with Rick, at all, except we dd eat our soup when we got home. I pretty much fell into bed and slept. I woke up this morning at shortly past six in the morning, I presume the drugs wore off at that point, and staggered out into the appartment for some water and a cookie. I got to watch the sun rise, though, and that was a wonderful thing. It was a beautiful, multi-coloured sun rise that turned the eastern sky flaming hues of red and yellow, purple and blue. Fantastic.

I'm off to work, and if I can do it, the Consulate beforehand, then off to the Petes after work, because it's Mom's birthday tomorrow. Sadly, she'll be spending it on the picket line. OPSEU public servants are on strike, again, because the government is dicking with them, yet again. *raises her fist in solidarity* I think I'll drive by the lines downtown and honk at them. They need all the support they can get. They're up against a hard-line, right-wing government that thinks the 35% pay increase to the MPPs is alright, but 12% over three years is too much for the public servants that do all the work that the MPPs take credit for.