Posted: August 11th, 2010 | Author: FibroChick | Filed under: Fibromyalgia | No Comments »
So, hubby and I stop by the drug store for some milk last night. The parking lot was completely full so he had to stay with the car while I went in and got the milk. So I walk into the store, look around for coupons a bit (sorry hubby!), then go and grab the milk. When I get to the checkout there is a line, a long line ahead of me. It’s too long to reach forward and set the milk down on the counter. So I’m holding it, all four litres, and I feel a bit of a panic come on. I need this line to move now. I shift the milk from one hand to another, I try holding it like a baby to lesson the impact on my shoulders. I rationalize that a simple everyday task like picking up milk cannot possibly have an ill effect. Can it? No. Don’t be silly I tell myself. I once walked home in minus 30, eight blocks with a baby in a stroller and twelve bags of groceries (uphill both ways?) This is just milk.
The funny thing is, in the morning, when I woke up with a splitting headache, it took me three and a half hours to put two and two together. I woke up thinking ‘man, I need a new pillow’. I got up thinking ‘geez I’m dehydrated, I need some water’. I saw through the fog and thought, ’whoo that’s quite a caffeine headache, I need some coffee’. Then I sat, ate, took some Advil, and eventually thought ‘ahhh, I shoulda set the milk on the floor’. Darn social graces.