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Jun. 9th, 2018 11:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the_rckI lost a big chunk of today to a migraine. I woke with it, beat it back with chicken liver, caffeine, and honey, and then went down hard around noon. It took Amerge, Ativan, and three hours lying down with a cold pack to get that to the point that I thought I could walk reasonably well. I didn't fall over, but I did feel very unsteady.
I ended up sitting in the living room for a while and not being sure I could get back to the bedroom. I got cranky with Scott at that point because him helping me would have been useful. He wants me to explicitly ask, but that's got two problems. The more important one is that Cordelia will freak. The less important one is childhood conditioning. Saying that I hurt or don't feel well is obviously me lying. Someone else saying that I don't look well makes it okay for me to ask for help.
I know, looking back, that my mother felt really helpless in the face of me being constantly ill and in pain. There was damn all she could do in the 70s and 80s when we couldn't really afford medical care, and even if she'd taken me to a doctor, they'd just have assumed I was lying because none of it is anything they recognized then. For a child the age I was to be that amorphously sick, meant to those medical professionals that my mother was causing the problem by ignoring me or paying me too much attention or otherwise being a Bad Mother.
She found a book from the library when I was in fifth grade that explained the idea of food allergies and put me through a pretty thorough elimination diet. Mainly what we found was that eggs were a migraine trigger (this was still an 'allergy' because the allergy/intolerance/sensitivity division wasn't a thing that we had any way to know about).
At any rate, I had 18 years of being told that I was a hypochondriac. Then I went to college and started collecting actual diagnoses. But I'm still well trained in, "No one wants to hear anything about how you feel physically."
On a completely different topic-- Our dehumidifier has died. Scott's looking at Consumer Reports to see what they think of different new models. He's going to check to see if it restarts after twenty four hours not plugged in as there's a possibility that it's frozen. He thinks it's unlikely, though. The dehumidifier is older than Cordelia. It might actually date back to the mid-90s when we bought the house.
I ended up sitting in the living room for a while and not being sure I could get back to the bedroom. I got cranky with Scott at that point because him helping me would have been useful. He wants me to explicitly ask, but that's got two problems. The more important one is that Cordelia will freak. The less important one is childhood conditioning. Saying that I hurt or don't feel well is obviously me lying. Someone else saying that I don't look well makes it okay for me to ask for help.
I know, looking back, that my mother felt really helpless in the face of me being constantly ill and in pain. There was damn all she could do in the 70s and 80s when we couldn't really afford medical care, and even if she'd taken me to a doctor, they'd just have assumed I was lying because none of it is anything they recognized then. For a child the age I was to be that amorphously sick, meant to those medical professionals that my mother was causing the problem by ignoring me or paying me too much attention or otherwise being a Bad Mother.
She found a book from the library when I was in fifth grade that explained the idea of food allergies and put me through a pretty thorough elimination diet. Mainly what we found was that eggs were a migraine trigger (this was still an 'allergy' because the allergy/intolerance/sensitivity division wasn't a thing that we had any way to know about).
At any rate, I had 18 years of being told that I was a hypochondriac. Then I went to college and started collecting actual diagnoses. But I'm still well trained in, "No one wants to hear anything about how you feel physically."
On a completely different topic-- Our dehumidifier has died. Scott's looking at Consumer Reports to see what they think of different new models. He's going to check to see if it restarts after twenty four hours not plugged in as there's a possibility that it's frozen. He thinks it's unlikely, though. The dehumidifier is older than Cordelia. It might actually date back to the mid-90s when we bought the house.
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Date: 2018-06-10 11:54 am (UTC)Its so hard to break childhood conditioning.