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.

Homeowners Once More

Dear Husband and I close on a house this Thursday.

I haven't been this stressed in a looooooooong time.

Add to the stress the fact that I've been terrible at eating Paleo - too much indulging in cheese via gluten-free pizza - and I'm having almost daily migraines. It's... rough.

And it's my own damned fault.

Once we've moved into the new house, however, I fully intend to get back to the super-Paleo lifestyle Dear Husband and I led when we first met and began dating. I'm not particularly looking forward to it - cheese is SO delicious! - but my body and my skin will thank me for it.

Particularly as the forehead of 13-year-old Ms. Strainedconsciousness is back in all it's unhappy, oily, bumpy glory.

Ugh.

I've been busy, lately, making purchases for the new house - because those wood floors aren't going to sprout rugs on their own (and I now have a new phobia that will probably haunt my dreams); lining up contractors to tune-up our current house's HVAC system, and doing the same at the new house; arranging for an appliance repairman to come look at our range in the new house (because it doesn't work); scheduling our new roof installation, fence demolition, and fence reconstruction; etcetera.

I feel like all I've done the last two weeks is make phone calls and take the dogs to the vet (Ginger's been a bit gimpy).

After 4 weeks - or possibly more - without a manicure or pedicure, and my feet still wearing the nail polish from that last appointment, I finally was able to do a little self-care, today, in the form of a mani/pedi. Because my doctor cancelled my appointment. Apparently, she was still in surgery, and couldn't leave her unconscious patient for a few minutes to come take care of me. Pshaw.

I'm joking, naturally.

It was fortunate, though, because as I told her scheduler, "This makes my day much less stressful." Despite the fact that I was already in the doctors' office parking lot when she called.

It meant I had time to shoehorn a little foot time into my day. Rescheduling for a month down the road was totally worth it.

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.

Not Exactly Relaxing In the Sun

Saturday was an interesting day.

I had lunch/brunch with the BIL and my beautiful niece at a restaurant called Guadalajara, and then went up to the College of Architecture to meet up with some of my studio-mates. One of the girls from my studio called, and informed a nice - and large - fellow that she was going to visit the sites assigned to us by our professor for our first project. Did we want to join her?

Of course we did! Particularly as the large fellow had no car, and I had no idea where we were supposed to go. She and her friend arrived and we all climbed into her 2-door Honda Civic to head out for Discovery Green in downtown Houston.

We were about 5 blocks from campus when we realized the air-conditioning in her Civic was not working. Down went the windows, and we continued on, growing stickier and smellier by the minute. At some point, I realized I was not wearing sunscreen and did not have a hat, and I resigned myself to getting a mild case of sunburn.

Discovery Green was interesting, to say the least. There was a lawn where a Hispanic radio station was setting up an inflatable screen in preparation for a showing of Spy Kids. There was an amphitheater with a permanent stage built out of cypress (I think) and steel. There were strange boxes covered in glossy colored cubes that led down into parking garages below the surface of the ground.

Then, there were two nearly identical pavilions that sold drinks and food and housed public restrooms. A small pond hosted very small kayaking experiences for tourists. And there was a playground (almost deserted in the 109-degree heat) and a water plaza, with jets of water that arched over its granite surface.

The water plaza was packed.

Most of the water plaza's inhabitants were obviously low-income families, with the parents sitting in folding chairs or on the grass nearby, a few dads supervising their kids, and squealing happy children. Oh! How ecstatic they were to be playing in the water! It was wonderful to watch, and I took a lot of pictures of the kids in the water.

Then, we headed for Bayou Bend Park, thinking it would be easy to find.

It wasn't, yet it was. See, the thing is: Bayou Bend Park is long, following Buffalo Bayou (duh) for a few miles. It's impossible to know where to park your car to get there.

Eventually, we settled on parking near the City of Houston's free public skate park (helmets required). We got a bit bogged down, admittedly, watching the skaters fly over the ramps, swoop up through the half-domes, etc. Once a few of them realized they had an admiring audience, the tricks flew faster and more furiously. Fortunately, we didn't witness any accidents!

Then, we wandered off to look at the rest of the park.


It's kind of creepy.

There are circles of Bald Cypresses arranged at random, with "seats" made of triangles of granite arranged in their midst. I say "seats" because they looked more like altars for slaughtering animals. Most specifically, slaughtering goats while wearing black hooded robes and chanting in Latin.

We came across a steel structure that encircled rectangles of granite for sitting/slaughtering, and had images of eyes overlaid with clear plastic protractors, among other demonic illustrations, fitted between the metal of the trusses. It was about this time that we decided to leave.

It was also about this time that the beagle puppy ran by.

We thought it belonged to the jogger it was chasing, at first, but when we saw him try to shoo it away, we realized otherwise. Then we heard a man calling for his dog, which was obviously not responding.

Hmmm...

The upshot was that one of the guys in my group ran after the dog, caught it, and lured it back towards us, where I grabbed its wriggly little wet body and carried it 1/4 mile back to its owner. Apparently, "Hunter" the beagle puppy had gone for a swim in the bayou before he wandered off...

Good deed accomplished, we headed back for the un-air-conditioned Civic, all of us sweating, covered in puppy mud, and tired.

I got home and took a cool shower, fretting over the fact that my skin was blotchy from the heat. Then I lay in bed reading, drinking water, and eating cornichons to help replenish all the salt I'd lost during our treks. Eventually, I got up and put some clothes on so I could go grocery shopping. When I did, I caught sight of myself in the mirror: NO SUNBURN.

A year ago, I would have been beet-red all over, looking absolutely terrible and preparing myself mentally for the inevitable peeling and itching to come. This time, there was no such problem. I'd heard that the Paleo Diet decreased the likelihood of burning in the sun, and now I'm a believer.

Maybe I don't have to hide from the sun, anymore! Though it's a good excuse to use for leaving if I ever find myself surrounded by satanic structures in a public park again...