That is the sound I have in my head when it happens. Kapow! I even can hear the exclamation point when it explodes, like a rocket throwing tons of force downward into my body and brain and leaving for pain man has not yet had the hellish reality of thinking of, imagining, or even worse, seeing it. However,this is the comic book explosion that has no laugh track, no funny ending, just a huddled mass under a thin blanket in a quiet and very cold bedroom praying that it will stop before it makes you unable to do simple things like make it to the bathroom in time or breathe with the necessary regularity.

Yesterday it wasn’t bad when the day started, I wrote about good things, about me of all people. It was there, but there was a lot of humidity in the air. People asked me how I was, and I remember saying pretty good, no pain, good day. I was smiling and happy and working my way through some things on my computer and phone I wanted to get done when I felt that all too familiar twinge behind my eye. I tried to ignore it, of course, and if I can’t see it, it certainly cannot see me. There was no escape, though, in less time than I can define, Kapow!

Like a finely drawn line with the very tip of a knife blade in delicate circles, to a point. Then pressure, moving my eye seemingly backward into that point, then the flame of pain blossoming into what would take me out in just a few short hours. I was laying on the couch, mindlessly not watching something on the screen in front of me and it got worse and worse, the Kapow a tangible thing I could almost, if I could, reach into my skull al touch and try to excise with anything I could get in there.

It doesn’t bother me as much anymore when people call them “just headaches,” it is a pain I will wish on no one, and if they don’t understand the Kapow, I leave them in their blessed ignorance and easily change the subject to something else. It is the people who think I am making it all up, people who think I am doing it for attention, those are the people that I am not particularly fond of as you may have guessed by now. You all know me, I wouldn’t.

So as the clock still sits five minutes before six in the morning as I write this and the Kapow has, for the moment, retreated to the den it lives in when it is not making me its bitch. My kids are up and getting ready for various things for the day. I am writing this not as a memoir of a survivor of the Kapow, but as a person who knows it is only just a little while until it comes back and takes over my entire life again and I try and find the strength. Not the power to fight, no. I am long past fighting. It is a battle for survival, and I am not in a position to lose.

Rawrs

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