I have received some really sweet e-mails from regular readers worried about me disappearing from my blog for a week after writing about headaches; I'm sorry I worried you - I'm still very much alive, not in hospital or lying in abject misery in a sick bed!
I do still have the headache, it has now been a permanent feature for about three weeks. Disprin is controlling it during waking hours so I can go about daily life. I spoke to a doctor about it again yesterday. GP still thinks it’s a muscular problem but as a precaution she is making an appointment for me to get a scan at the hospital in the next couple of weeks (I always knew I needed my head examining!) I also have an appointment with an Osteopath on Monday to see if he can "unspasm" it.
I feel a bit of a wimp moaning about my headache when so many other people are going through so much worse in the world, particularly in Haiti, so I am looking on the bright side and counting myself lucky that I have shelter, food, warmth, medical help and people who I love.
Whilst replying to e-mails about my health (thank you again!) I recalled a poem I read in my youth about someone's "get up and go", which "got up and went". Some research on the net has shown it to be a traditional poem so I guess I'm not infringing copyright if I reproduce it here:
MY GET UP AND GO HAS GOT UP AND WENT
How do I know my youth is all spent?
My get up and go has got up and went
In spite of it all, I'm able to grin
When I think of the places my get up has been
Old age is golden, I think I've heard said
But sometimes I wonder as I crawl into bed
My ears in a drawer, my teeth in a cup
My eyes on the table until I wake up
As sleep dims my vision, I say to myself
Is there anything else I should lay on the shelf?
But nations are warring and business is vexed
So I'll stick around to see what happens next
When I was younger, my slippers were red
I could kick up my heels right over my head
When I was older my slippers were blue
But still I could dance the whole night thru
Now I am old, my slippers are black
I huff to the store and I puff my way back
But never you laugh, I don't mind at all
I'd rather be huffing than not puff at all
I get up each morning and dust off my wits
Open the paper and read the obits
If I'm not there, I know I'm not dead
So I eat a good breakfast and go back to bed
Pretty earrings! I'm excited to be taking my first enameling class in a couple of months!
ReplyDeleteLovely! (The poem and the earrings!)
ReplyDeleteWell, the scan on your brain won't take long, eh? (only a sister can get away with that!)
I'm only jealous you've made decent enamel stuff before me...
fantastic earrings Sue and loved the poem. It rang a faint bell with me - isn't the internet a wonderful thing!
ReplyDeleteHope you got "unspasmed" okay
xx
Thanks all! :-)
ReplyDelete