Anybody who knows me well in real life knows that I am pretty sure I am going to die of one of three things:
1. Breast Cancer
3. Brain Tumor
Breast cancer is rampant through my family as is kidney issues (which are SUPER fun when you get kidney stones when you are 6 months pregnant and those fuckers REFUSE to come out and then disappear. It's weird and they are probably hiding right now somewhere just waiting for me to think oh-I-beat-you-kidney-stones and they will all be like BAM! "We're back bitch!" Just you wait) and even though I keep requesting a mammogram there is no hospital around here that will do a baseline for me. It's not like I really want my boobies to be squished, but dang. I'd like to know what I'm working with here. (And as an aside- go HERE to learn about the "Feel Your Boobies" campaign, get a free bumper sticker. I'm ordering a shirt.)
But the other two are probably more likely. Since I was little- like way little, before Kindergarten even, I remember having headaches. Horrible, awful headaches that made it almost impossible to do anything. They seem pretty benign until I was 13 or so when I told my mom it felt like my head was being hit with a sludge hammer repeatedly. She took me to countless doctors who all told me yeah- you have migraines, no big deal. I was tested for all kinds of triggers and allergies, MRI's, and CAT-scans. I've seen more neurologists in my life then most people do when they actually get brain cancer or something.
They all told me that "You know, some people eventually develop brain tumors". Oh- that's EXACTLY what you say to a 19 year old girl who already had the worst of the worst happening to her because she apparently is the red headed step child to the creator/allah/god/whoever is running this shit because girl can't catch a damn break.
They wanted me to stop my birth control and since I was like super sexually active that just wasn't an option. Plus, the boyfriend at the time wasn't father material what with his compulsive lying and no job. And living with his parents. And no discernible skills and issues with authority which includes but not limited to....any boss he'd ever have. So stopping birth control was non-optional.
The next best thing was to get me on a daily medication because at this point I was dealing with a migraine 4 out of the 7 days a week. Every week. Try holding down multiple jobs and school with that. Every drug they offered me had some really fucked up side effects. Basically, I could and most likely become schizophrenic, develop multiple personality disorder, or a myriad of mental health disorders. Oh goodie. Because somehow, and I'm not mental health expert, becoming a schizophrenic seems like a mother fucking downgrade from a migraine.
I opted to not take a daily medicine for fear I'd be a social outcast with 50 cats holed up under the bridge with a shopping cart with two wheels before I could even legally drink.
I mean, if that isn't the shit, I'm not sure what would be.
They DID offer me Imitrex which was supposed to either get rid of a migraine or bring it down so I could at least function without sounding under the influence all the time. My symptoms of a migraine are pretty classic: Intense pain, only on my left side (fun fact: I have never had a headache on my right side...always the left), reduced and/or loss of vision on left side, intense fatigue (to the point where if it's coming fast- I am not safe to drive and need to sleep ASAP), throwing up, even if my vision is reduced/gone I see light swirls and blinking dots. Basically it's what I would assume a really bad acid trip would be.
So one night, I took an Imitrex. It was like 4 in the afternoon on a weekend and Matt & I had just gotten home from something. He knew something was up because I kept running into the same wall near our bedroom and I poured water all over the floor for no reason. So I take an Imitrex, get my ice pack (heat makes it worse), and lay down. Within 2 minutes of taking it, I'm pretty sure I'm going to die. Matt's in the other room watching TV and I realize I feel like I'm suffocating, but falling asleep. I, for whatever reason, can't talk or anything. So the last thing I remembered was having a hard time breathing and falling asleep.
Fast forward 16 hours and I'm awake again, puking like I've never puked before. It was then that I decided that I would never take Imitrex ever again. No way in hell. That was scary. A few months later we were going on vacation with Matt's family. The night before, I get a migraine. I ended up in the ER because I had to have SOMETHING so I could board a 3 am flight without looking drunk. They gave me Demerol which is such a fucking joke anyways, so it didn't do anything. So without telling me, and without reading my chart about the Imitrex, they give me...Imitrex. And again...I feel like I'm going to die. Of course a nurse never checks on me, so I fell asleep and somehow Matt woke me up 5 hours later when they were ushering me out of there. I have no recollection of my flight to Florida.
I had to go to the last neurologist that I've seen, some old guy who kept holding and rubbing my hand. He was weird and likely a pedophile. He gave me some kind of mental health screening which took an hour. Afterwards he told me he suspects I'm suicidal and depressed. Um, I'm always depressed but I wasn't suicidal. I just a migraine. He sent me for more MRI's and Cat-scans.
It was then that I asked the guy reading it to just call my mom and tell her I had a brain tumor. Apparently, it's against the law for him to do that even if I give permission to blatantly lie to my mother. Whatever.
And this weekend I had a horrible migraine- one that knocked me on my ass. This is the second month in a row where I have had a migraine lasting two full days that was painful to the extreme. I haven't been on birth control for almost a year (not trying to get preggers, folks) and so far- I don't get them as often but the pain is worse. And now Bret Michaels had migraines and he's all up in ICU with a brain bleed. Fucking great.
That's probably going to be me. I'm just saying. I am like 99% sure I've got a brain tumor all undercover brother up in here. Every time anything related to death comes up, I'm all "I'm growing a brain tumor. And probably dying right now". I mean, it may not even be related, but I avoid my cell phone. I mean, you hear of people saying cell phones cause brain tumors and I don't know, but I don't think I need to add another peg on the probability of a brain tumor chart. So just text me.
And don't freak out if I start wearing tin foil on my head or something.