For the past 10 years, or so, my neurologists have treated my migraines with the front-line medications in the war on migraines: anti-depressants.

About 2 years ago, my neurologist referred me to a psychiatrist to manage the anti-depressant prescriptions, because he knows more about them than she does. It's a common thing to do with patients who have intractable, daily migraines.

My "shrink" put me through a few different regimens of medications, depending on the side-effects the drugs caused. Oh, that one causes me to have tremors, so I can no longer needlepoint?

Next.

Oh, this one is causing constipation, which happens to be a migraine trigger for me?

Next.

Oh, that one obliterates any interest you have in physical intimacy?

Next.

It's a process, and at times can be a very frustrating one.

And then, back in January, the side effects became overwhelming.

I was the most depressed I'd ever been in my life: I had no desire for intimacy, which caused feelings of guilt; I'd gained 30 pounds since my wedding and hated the way I looked; I felt like my presence on earth was really just a burden to everyone, but particularly to my husband, who had to deal with the brunt of my migraines and their effect on my moods.

It was bad, folks.

As a teenager, I sometimes self-harmed - cutting myself when I was particularly anxious or depressed, because the sight of the blood calmed me, somehow. It was a physical manifestation of what I was feeling. Following my cancer diagnosis, I stopped completely, and hadn't ever had the urge to do it again. Until January of 2018. Fortunately, a card from my niece on the refrigerator declaring "I love you SO SO MUCH!" caught my eye as I made for the knife block, and I turned around and went back to bed, skin intact.

Whenever you see ads for anti-depressants on TV, there's always a disclaimer about how they can, in some patients, cause suicidal thoughts.

Yeah, that disclaimer is aimed at me.

My psychiatrist realized how depressed I was and took me off the drug I'd been taking, without success, for about 6 months, and he gave me another drug to try out. I had an allergic reaction to the new drug, and stopped taking it, meaning that I was 100% off anti-depressants when I went back to see him a month later.

I was an entirely different person: happier, more cheerful in outlook, and able to take a step back from all of the horrible thoughts I'd been having and to realize that things aren't so awful, after all. In fact, they're pretty wonderful, despite the migraines.

My migraines aren't as debilitating as they were while I was on anti-depressants. I still have them, but I'm still able to function to some degree, meaning I can usually still make a healthy dinner for my husband and me despite the migraine.

I've also lost all the weight I gained since meeting my husband, which amounts to about 45 pounds. If I tried on my wedding dress, today, it would probably just fall off.

The last drugs we tried before I quit taking any had weight gain as a side-effect, and without them in my system, I no longer have the urge to eat as many sweets, or to binge on snacks. I'd tried to lose the weight while I was still on anti-depressants, not realizing that it would be nigh on impossible.

So now, we're trying to manage my migraines by being more careful about what I eat and practicing healthier sleeping habits: I wear a sleep mask at night, try to go to sleep at the same time every day, and have an evening "ritual" that I follow, which involves a warm bath, reading, taking melatonin, etc., though we joke that there's a goat slaughtered in there, somewhere, too.

I'm still having more days with migraine than not, but the migraines aren't weighing so heavily on me, now. Add to that the fact that my leather pants fit again, and things are looking up.

Sometimes, the best drug for what ails you is no drug at all.

Get Your Trek On

It's 6:30 am on a Friday morning, and I have yet to fall asleep.

This happens occasionally - once every two or three weeks - and I'm fine with that. I will sleep exceptionally well, tonight - Friday night - and be ready to "go get 'em" Saturday.

The insomnia - being awake all night - is either a precursor to a developing migraine, or is the direct cause of a migraine. I tend to think it's the latter, due to the other migraine precursors that accompany it: thirst, difficulty concentrating, restlessness, etc.

For a couple of weeks, now, I've been trying to limit my caffeine intake. In some people, caffeine can apparently cause migraines rather than helping end them. Or so my migraine tracking/recording app tells me. So I've cut out caffeine: no iced tea , no coffee, no chai, no chocola-

Oh. I made pecan-flour brownies the other day. I've eaten one per day since Tuesday.

Oops.

Okay, so after tomorrow, I'll be better about the whole "I'm not ingesting caffeine" trial. I promise.

Yesterday - Thursday, for those of you playing along at home - I began my application for government disability payments. Seeing as I'm unable to work, and my beloved husband is paying for everything, right now, including medical bills and student loans, money is growing ever tighter. At the least, I'd be able to pay down my loans and cover my own medical expenses, if I received Social Security Disability.

I'm conflicted about applying for benefits. On the one hand, my husband has a good salary. On the other hand, feeding both of us costs a lot of money, particularly as I can't just eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch every day. So food, medical bills, transportation to and from the doctors, etc., all adds up quickly, not to mention the joys of home ownership, where you "get" to pay someone to come repair your roof and a hole in the ceiling of the laundry room.

Regardless, it will be at least two months before my Disability Application is judged and either approved or denied.

In the meantime, I have a new device with which to experiment that is supposedly helpful for migraines. My dear aunt sent me information about a device called the Cefaly about a month ago, and I have since discussed it with my neurologist, who gave me her blessing to try it (she also gave me a prescription, because you can't just buy it without a doctor sprinkling the transaction with holy signatures and whatnot).

The Cefaly arrived last night, to my surprise - I thought it would arrive Friday - but I haven't tried it, yet. Its inaugural use will take place tonight, during which time I can role play a character of my own imagining from the Star Trek universe, because this is what it looks like:

That's just a couple of inches away from making the user look like Geordi La Forge's sister from another mister, right there. Seriously, lower it 2.5 inches, and BAM! Star Trek: The Next Generation, I'm ready for my walk-on role!

Supposedly, the Cefaly stimulates the trigeminal nerve running from your brain into your forehead, which decreases the number and severity of migraines. There's an electrode that's applied to the forehead before the Cefaly device is lowered into place. My electrodes are fancy blue hypoallergenic ones, because I'm a delicate flower, and also, blue is more futuristic and (I imagine) Trekkie approved.

There's a chance the thing might not work, of course, and if that's the case, I can return the device within 60 days for a full refund (except for the electrodes). It's a no-lose situation, the way I see it.

And maybe - just maybe! - this futuristic diadem will allow me to conquer my migraines once and for all.

Keep your fingers crossed, Dear Reader.

Wide Awake

It's a little before 1:00 am on a Saturday morning, and I can't sleep.

I've never been "a good sleeper." As I've aged, the insomnia has only worsened. In theory, there's a physiological reason for it: a calcified pineal gland, preventing my body from properly synthesizing melatonin. So I take melatonin at night, so I can sleep.

Tonight, however, my insomnia is super awful. I'm wired. I need to be making, or doing, or something, but I don't know what I want to make.

I tried reading, but I'm not 100% into the book I'm reading, and I couldn't force myself to continue slogging through it in my current frame of mind.

I tried writing, but I've been bogged down lately on that, and am having trouble pushing myself forwards in my story. I don't know how George R.R. Martin does it, frankly.

I tried to order wedding photos online, but had trouble with my account, so that failed, too.

And I'd love to be organizing our office, re-styling the bookshelves and cleaning out the boxes of wedding ephemera that will go in our album (once I succeed in ordering photos), but that would be noisy, and my exhausted husband has long gone to sleep.

In all probability, the insomnia is a forewarning of a migraine to come. It's common for me to have a night of awful, restless insomnia, and to have a full-blown migraine, next day.

Or, the inability to settle myself down is a symptom of my anxiety and depression, which can also cause migraines, which then cause anxiety and depression and insomnia, and...

I'm still having migraines and am unable to work, and I've made a decision about my treatment: I want to cleanse myself.

I've been on so many drugs for so long that I no longer have any idea what it's like to just feel like myself. Back in 2010 - or possibly 2009 - my neurologist/best friend took me off of everything, so we would know what my baseline was. Since then, I've been on oodles of medications for various reasons: antidepressants and antipsychotics to prevent migraines, pain medicine for sciatic pain, muscle relaxants for muscle tension due to migraines.

I no longer know what it feels like to be me, without any chemical alterations.

For years, between the end of my chemotherapy and 2011, when a doctor put me back on antidepressants, I had very strong emotions. When I was happy, I was amazingly happy. When I was sad, I was completely devastated. But my emotions were true, and they were mine. I feel, these days, like I'm completely numb. I don't really feel, anymore. I try to, but really the only thing that gets through is sadness and anxiety.

I don't know if taking myself off of my medications* will make a difference. I don't know if I'll feel happier again. I don't know if my migraines will grow worse, or better, or stay the same.

But I do know that I'm tired of not feeling.

*taking myself off of my medications under doctor supervision and with their blessing, because some of this stuff will f*&$ you up if you just stop taking it

My Role in a Jane Austen Novel: Bedridden Lady of Leisure

I'm lying in bed with my dog, Frederic, curled up next to me. In a few minutes, I'll be working on a story I've started - for the tenth time, actually, but I think I really have it, this time - and drinking water.

I'm married, now - Frederic is actually my step-dog, I guess - and my husband is in the living room of our tiny three bedroom house in Houston. I can hear the narrator of Ken Burns' "Civil War" faintly, and last time I peeked into the living room, my beloved husband was working on a needlepoint project: a pillow with "Home Sweet Home" in blocky text at the top, with two palm trees flanking a smiling Predator below.

It's amazing.

No, he didn't know how to needlepoint before he met me. He learned about two months ago, first starting with a kit geared towards 5-year-olds that depicted a dog. The dog is named Toby, and will eventually be framed. The Predator is named Theodore, because we have a thing about naming stuff. (Frederic's current favorite toy is a stuffed fabric bone that has a handle for playing tug-o-war. It's named Bonaparte, because it's a bone that comes apart).

The last time I wrote was about a year ago, I think. Maybe a little less. I was still planning a wedding, at that point, preparing for the best day of my life.

That day has come and gone, and I still feel amazingly blessed. Even more so than I did before.

Our first 6 months of marriage haven't been easy. I was suffering chronic migraines - still am, actually - and my doctor at the time had decided I was faking it, seeing as she couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. I guess she thought struggling to live on the 60% pay that came with my short-term disability insurance while paying $500 per month in medical bills was a walk in the park.

I (and my migraines) went back to work, and I averaged 3 days per week, for a while. Then that dwindled to two days per week. I was struggling to make the 30 hours per week I needed to keep my insurance.

I have since found a doctor who believes me, but we aren't any closer to my migraines going away. I was able to take Family and Medical Leave for three months, but when those were up, I ended up resigning my position, with support from my husband.

I have mercury toxicity, which could be contributing to the migraines, and I've since quit eating fish - unless I know where it comes from - and had the mercury-containing fillings in my mouth removed.

Despite all of that, I've had no relief. Occasionally, I'll feel awesome, but if I'm not careful, awesome can turn really quickly into just-kill-me. So I tend not to get out and do much. I'm afraid I'll be thirty minutes from home in my 10-year-old Civic and not be able to get back to our little bungalow.

I'm also seeing a new neurologist, whose office is five minutes away from Chez StrainedConsciousness. She specializes in headaches, unlike my old doctor who treated headaches alongside other neurological illnesses.

So we're still trying to figure out what's wrong with me, and hoping we'll find out sooner, rather than later.

And if that's "sooner", then my old job is still waiting for me. My wonderful boss told me, the day I cleaned out my desk, that the firm wants me back, once I'm healthy again. Even if it's just part-time, at first, I have a place (barring some economic catastrophe that wipes out all of the company's work).

I'm incredibly lucky that my boss is a kind, caring man, who I believe truly cares about his employees. It probably doesn't hurt that he has a daughter my age, either.

While I've been home, I've done a lot of reading - lots of different genres - and a lot of writing. I want to simultaneously write three different stories, but I don't know if I'm capable of that. I'm afraid I'd have difficulty maintaining the individual "voices" each book requires, because one is a young-adult fantasy book, one is an adult fantasy book (but not, you know, bow-chika-bow-wow adult), and one is historical fiction, set in the 1910s-1950s.

I've also considered opening an Etsy shop - don't laugh, now! - to sell embroidery. Not needlepoint, because I doubt people would want to pay $400 for a Christmas stocking, but simpler embroidery that could be framed. I'm still considering it, though my sister's voice is in the back of my head reminding me that I have yet to finish the needlepoint stockings I'm making for my niece and nephew.

So there's simultaneously a lot going on, and nothing going on. Lots of different stressors, but not a lot to do.

So if you have any ideas for what I could do without having to stare at a computer screen, all day, and also ones that I can do while completely horizontal (because sometimes, just sitting up hurts), I'd love to hear them.

Hopefully, they'll give me more to write about than just, you know, whining about my health.

For Thom

I haven't written since January.

There's a reason for that. Not a good one, necessarily, but here it goes.

I essentially wrote for one person. And that person was not, at least after a time, myself.

I wrote for my second cousin, Thom, who encouraged me, laughed at my posts, and made me feel like I had some impact on people out there in the great beyond. His own blog posts were funny, poignant, insightful, and witty (not necessarily the same as funny, mind you). He was a wonderful and warm human being, and I hadn't seen him since I was about 15 years old, when he swung through Texas for some reason or another from the state of New York, where he was a professor of psychology.

Thom and I reconnected after a span of years when he joined Facebook and "friended" me. He was funny and conversational, with excellent jokes and commentaries on society, and I enjoyed getting to know him through an electronic medium that made him feel close by, despite the physical distance between us.

Thom sent me all the figurines from the Happy Meal's partnership with the Ice Age III movie to decorate my cubicle when I worked with Oldsmobile, Radio, Pacman, and Scooter (I'd received a couple because, um, I used to eat Happy Meals for lunch on the way back from the construction site). He sent me links to migraine research he'd dug up when I was so very, very ill in November and December of 2010, along with humorous Facebook posts that made me laugh (a difficult feat to accomplish, at the time).

And then, on February 9, 2014, Thom died suddenly. And I was completely and totally devastated.

As is the case when I am upset or experiencing great loss, I shut down whatever portions of my life dealt with that loss. In this case, my blogging went by the wayside.

Without Thom to read it, what was the point? For me, there wasn't one. Not for a very long time.

This wasn't a decision I consciously made, however. I just avoided StrainedConsciousness. I would think about writing, but then all the emotion I felt thinking that Thom wouldn't be around to read it would overwhelm me, and I'd decide not to.

A couple of months ago, my mom mentioned that I hadn't written in a very long time, and I softly told her that no, I hadn't written since Thom died. She teared up, and asked why, and I told her he wouldn't be around to read it. And I cried.

And then I realized that Thom would still want me to keep writing, even if he isn't around to comment on my posts. And I decided it was time to get back to it.

Part of the reason I've decided to get back to it is that, at present, I'm in another period of time where I'm unwell.

I'm back to daily migraines, again, albeit not ones as traumatic as those of 2010. They're still debilitating, though, and I'm currently on leave from work while my Wellness Doctor tries every trick up her sleeve to see what's wrong with me (my neurologist performed Botox, but he's stumped, otherwise).

My micronutrient assays are fine, for the most part, so it's not something there that's causing the issue.

My candidiasis is in control (woohoo!), so that's not the culprit.

But still, I'm chronically exhausted and have awful migraines.

By now, I have tears streaming down my face, and my migraine is hellacious, but I'm pressing through for a few more minutes before I take my drugs - I'm back to "snowing" myself, because acute migraine medicines aren't working.

And I need some sort of outlet. So I decided, at a point in the afternoon that my migraine wasn't raging (about an hour ago, honestly) to get back to blogging.

Not only for myself, but for Thom.

Oops

Can we just go ahead and agree that I'm contrite for not having blogged in so long?

Okay. Good.

Now that that's over, let's get down to the reason for my absence: migraines.

Okay, so migraines, layered with work and school, but still: migraines.

They started back at the end of June. Up until that point, I'd had maybe 2 or 3 migraines per month. For most people, that would be a catastrophic amount of migrainage, but for me, it was pretty darn good.

And then... I don't know what happened. I began having multiple migraines per week, first on Tuesdays, then on Tuesdays and Fridays (so I missed work on Tuesdays, but "fortunately", my second migraine was on a day off). And, eventually, pretty much every day whenever my brain felt like it. Except for Thursdays. Usually not Thursdays.

Long story short(ish): I ended up having about 4 migraines per week. Something had to give, what with starting back to school (and missing school) and having to work, and not being able to control the migraines (and nausea. OH MY GOSH the nausea!). So I quit my job.

I had decided that I would be cool, just explain to my boss, give my two weeks' notice. I practiced so I wouldn't cry.

Of course, I cried. But they were nice and didn't make me finish out the two weeks, since it was for a health problem.

The migraine situation is still kind of dicey (I haven't had one since Friday, and it's a Thursday, so there's hope!). I'm seeing a new neurologist in Houston who I like, and he confessed that he had no idea what to tell me, since I seemed to be doing everything properly: no gluten, limited processed foods and refined sugar, minimal caffeine, no HFCS, if I can help it. I'm monitoring my sleep habits, computer time, what I eat each day, what I drink, and any symptoms I have. I take magnesium and a Vitamin B complex and Vitamin D and iodine (because I don't cook with iodized salt). I even take cod liver oil after dinner (lemon flavored to cut the fishiness, naturally).

So, yeah, he had no idea what was causing the migraines. I hypothesized that it might have been increased dairy intake, since my latte and ice cream consumption was off the charts for a while, there. As a result, prior to my first appointment with my new neurologist/best friend, I had already abandoned the consumption of milk, including a painful parting with the ice cream aisle at Whole Foods, and sacrificing my morning mocha latte.

Hopefully, along with my abandonment of dairy will come a return to what I consider to be my "normal size."

Ahem.

See, I gained weight after I stopped working (really, before I stopped working, but after the migraines started and I was less willing to push furniture and constantly pace the sales floor). Because I don't eat gluten, the places I gain my weight have changed.

I used to gain weight "like a boy": in my stomach and love handles.

Post-gluten, however, I tend to gain weight where women are stereotypically supposed to gain it: hips, bum, and - ahem - boobies.

For some unaccountable reason, I still don't gain much weight in my legs.

For my 30th birthday (this coming Sunday!), my parents gave me the funds to purchase a suit for job interviews, come March. I found a suit shape I really liked.

I bought the jacket in-store - where I discovered that I am a size 2 suit jacket at J. Crew.

The pants aren't sold in-store, however, so after a bit of a run-around, I finally got the new pants today.

Because of my lovely womanly derrier, I am a size 6 in the pants. But my thighs are still a size 4.

I know, silly to complain. But this means that I am going to have to have the pants altered to fit properly (not surprising). I would have taken the pants to the tailor, regardless, because pockets on slim-fitting pants are always visible, so I have them removed on pants and skirts that I wear for work. My tailors - a slew of them from Dallas, and now my Houston tailor - are used to the request.

This time, however, there will be the added requirement of taking in the thighs and, possibly, the calves of my new suit pants.

Because, you know...

Now With Fewer Wrinkles!

I went to see Dr. Pain and my neurologist/best friend, Thursday morning. I used to go to the doctor, feeling all hopeful: Hooray! There's another medicine to try! This one might be the answer!

These days, though, doctors' visits are just another source of stress, much like trying to figure out if I should be typing "doctors' visits", "doctor's visits", or "doctors visits".

No, seriously, it happens every time I blog about anything medical. What is the answer?!?!?!?!

Anyhoo, I went to see Dr. Pain, and he asked me about a pain medication my neurologist had prescribed. I explained the circumstances and he looked back at the list of drugs I'm currently ingesting. "What is the Depakote for? Not epilepsy..."

"No, it's for migraines," I sighed.

Depakote is a drug of last resort in the fight against migraines, just FYI. I'm being taken off of the Depakote; its multiple side-effects can be cumulative over time, and I'm already experiencing some of them, namely tremors.

(In Brooklyn accent) I'm shakin' like a leaf.

At least, my hands are.

"How often are you getting migraines?" he asked.

"Almost every day," I replied. "Sometimes I wake up fine, but get them between 10:00 a.m. and noon, and sometimes I wake up with them."

"Have you considered Botox?" he asked.

My neurologist/best friend and I had discussed Botox back in December, during my 30-migraines-in-30-days-athon, but then I'd improved... temporarily.

I told him I'd discuss the Botox with my neurologist/best friend at my appointment with her two hours later.

I engaged in some retail therapy, then went to see my neuro, and I told her Dr. Pain wanted me to try Botox. She seconded the notion, and tomorrow, I will call Dr. Pain to set the wheels in motion.

At my first treatment, I will receive 21 injections of Botox, beginning in the forehead area, going over my head, and down into my neck and shoulders. My almost-permanently furrowed brow will no longer be able to furrow, which might be a good thing.

Dr. Useless

In the past seven days, I've had three doctors' appointments. I saw Dr. Pain last Wednesday, and he prescribed physical therapy (woohoo!) since the previous treatment didn't work at all.

I saw my neurologist/best friend on Thursday, and broke the news to her that, although I hadn't called the office to complain, I'd had a headache every day since Dec. 4 (my trip to the ER). I thought she was going to cry. Somehow, I managed not to. I told her I was going to go to the Baylor Headache Clinic, and she thought it was a great idea. She encouraged me to go.

Yesterday, I hit the Baylor Clinic - which is neither in Waco, nor is it at the Baylor Hospital campus east of Downtown Dallas. No, it's across Park Lane from Northpark Mall, which meant that mumsie and I spent a good time battling pre-Christmas traffic to get there. We cut off several people who don't understand that "Yield to Ramp" means you yield to the people on the highway's exit ramp.

Hopefully, they have now learned their lesson.

So I arrived about ten minutes early for my check-in time, filled out all my paperwork for the appointment, and sat down in a chair next to my mom to read until I was called back. We waited for about 30 minutes.

I went back into the examination room, talked to the nurse for a while, and then sat down to read while I waited for the doctor to show up.

Forty-five minutes later he waltzed into the room, and began to ask me questions that were all answered in the comprehensive medical questionnaire I'd filled out a week before to give to him. I was kind of irked by the fact that he was AN HOUR AND FIFTEEN MINUTES LATE and yet hadn't even looked at my paperwork. And he didn't apologize for his tardiness either.

First impressions, Doc. First impressions.

After an exam, he informed me that migraines tend to come in waves, so what I was experiencing wasn't abnormal. When I looked at him and said, "Two month waves?" he just shrugged. This after I'd told him that I wasn't able to work because of my migraines.

His solution? Here's some more pills to try to prevent the migraines, and I'll see you in six weeks.

EXCUSE ME???? I wanted to tell him that, in six weeks, without being able to work, I won't be able to afford to see him, and it was nice meeting him (although that last bit would have been a lie).

He didn't say anything about changing my diet, doing physical therapy, or anything else that I'd seen on multiple websites for other headache clinics across the country. No, it was just, "Here's more pills, see you in six weeks."

At this point, I'm positively drowning in pills, what with the ones that I'm already taking to prevent migraines (that aren't really working), the ones that treat my nerve pain, the ones that are supposed to help prevent the nerve pain, the ones that treat a dietary problem I've had for years, the ones that treat another digestive problem (partially caused by all the other pills I'm on), and the ones that help treat eczema. Oh, and the ones that treat nausea brought on by migraines, and the ones that are supposed to treat acute migraine attacks, but which only work sometimes.

So I'm back to square one, essentially, and I have no intention of going back to see Dr. Useless at Baylor. It's time to look for other headache clinics, and to possibly be hospitalized (again) by my neurologist/best friend after Christmas.

The not-so-Merry-Go-Round continues.