Ow.

This is Day Number Six of the Headache That Will Not Die.

I've been home from work the last two days with this, the first migraine of my life. (Those of you who experience them regularly are either wincing with sympathy or laughing at my wimpiness.)

When I woke up yesterday morning, I was so dizzy and weak that I feared carbon monoxide poisoning. I called my parents, packed a bag with a couple of Little House books (I adore Laura Ingalls Wilder) and my knitting, and drove to the hospital.

All of the attendants were pretty grumpy, but after a few cheerful quips and questions (the first always being, "Were you here all night?"), they loosened up. I sat in the hospital bed in my hospital gown (which happened to match my socks) and knitted under the roaring pressure in my skull while I waited for the doctor. The RN complimented me on my knitting. (Way to teach, MP!)

The doctor informed me that I'd get a CAT scan, blood tests, and a shot of painkiller. He looked kind of worried, so as I sat there knitting and waiting to be taken for the scan, I wondered if maybe something were really wrong. Maybe this was it.

Fine, then, I thought. There are a lot of things I wanted to do with my life before I gave it up, and I really wanted to grow old someday, but if this is how God wants me to go, that's okay. I'll get to see Him all the sooner.

But the CAT scan turned out to be normal. I made the technicians laugh when they asked me, as they eased me onto the narrow bench, if there was any chance I might be pregnant. "Pfffft. No way!" I said, with such patent resentment that they howled.

Being wheeled down the hallway on a guerney makes me motion sick, by the way.

And if you want to see me break down and bawl like a helpless baby, just stick a shot of something into my rump. Needles in the arm, in the gums, whatever, I can handle. But not in the rump.

So I declined a narcotic, took the next best thing, and drove myself back home, since there was no CO in my blood either. My boss made me stay home and told me I'd get an advance on my sick time (I can't believe my wonderful employers). So I lay around the house all day with the blinds drawn.

Today the headache is still around, but not quite as horrible, and I'm bored out of my skull, so I'm going back to work.

But I'm really glad there's nothing wrong with me. Except perhaps "adult onset headache disorder," which I've never heard of, but which the doctor told me is common among women in their mid-twenties.

I had to swallow that sharp "And they're all single, right?" that almost leaped out of my mouth.

Well, I'm holding to the hope that this was a one-time deal.