Thursday, April 29, 2010

The Headache

I know. I know. What the hell kinda post is this? About a HEADACHE? You're a WuSs-AsS, TiZandAsS.

I know.

But I don't get headaches. Maybe one a year. And when that happens I cock my head a la the RCA puppy and ask myself, "Self, what is this strange feeling in thy head? I wish it would stop, Self."

And stop it would.


Yesterday was different.

I think I hit the trifecta and that caused the blasted fuckwad kopfschmerz.* What is this blasphemous trifecta so you DON'T hit it? Blood pressure drop, blood sugar drop and caffeine drop...ALLS AT THE SAME TIME.

And that will never happen again. Because I just don't believe in costume fittings anymore...

I knew something was wrong when I started to cry at the beginning of the run-through of "Crappy Person-The Ginger Musical." And then when I had to pull out my Merman, it was confirmed. Never EVER try to be Ethel Merman while harboring a fugitive headache. You will want to take a knitting needle to your temples.

Two hours later I made the titular character drive us both home, despite the fact she had just tapped her AsS off. I continue to believe that having her drive us home safely was wiser than my careening blindly into the Gulf of Mexico. Call me silly.

When neither food nor caffeine made me feel any better, I thought I might have a problem. When I lay on the couch sobbing "OW," it drove it home (rather like knitting needles through temples).

And yet there was a sitzprobe that evening. The first and only orchestra rehearsal. My favorite rehearsal of any process.

It didn't least not for me. I called the stage manager, I called the titular character to get the director's number. I called the director.

And I missed rehearsal.

I've NEVER missed rehearsal. Not in 18 years in this business. Not when I blew my knee out. Not when I broke a rib. Not when I tore my gastroc. Not when I tore my seratus and lats. Not when I tore my cornea. Not when I broke a bone in my foot. Not when I was headbutted by Sister Mary Truckdriver barrelling on through and got a concussion so severe they thought I had cracked my skull.

I just don't miss rehearsal.

Yet miss I did...which did not help the headache.

Earlier I had posted on the Book of Face, "TiZ has a headache that makes her want to vomit. she can't take advil or tylenol or ANY of that stuff. suggestions. please."

Now, I can't take any of that stuff and sing (for my now non-existent sitz) because I got mugged a decade ago. It wasn't one of those pleasant, "Excuse me, Miss, may I have that vintage handbag your mother gave you?" kinda muggings. It was the "Let's mace her and then beat the crap outta her" kind. Mace paralyzes your larynx. I screamed through it. Who knew?

I blew out a cord.

That's my blog-AsS way of explaining why I can't take a vasodilator and then project. Will just blow the cord right out again.

Oh, but the Book of Face responses were sooooooooo helpful. And lovely. I finally went with the acupressure, darkness (not easy in sunny South Florida), silence, caffeine, cold compress, tea tree oil, self-reiki, meditation route. Did wonders but not enough. Would have loved to have tried the freshly made ginger ale suggestion, but since I could barely see, that was out. I also enjoyed the momentary mary jane suggestion. Why did you fly from my page, momentary mary jane suggestion? So, since I didn't have to sing, I took two Ibuprofen PMs.

And hallucinate.

Which was good.

The phone ringing right next to my ear? Not so good. Can't imagine who was calling me on the landline but they are officially dead to moi.

Woke up 4 hours later, watched a little Eddie Iz (always the cure-all), AND was naughty and popped another Ibuprofen PM.

And hallucinate.

I feel pretty good today. I like the polka-dot elephants who are following me around. They're sweet. As are all of you for reading this and writing those suggestions.

*One of my most beloved colleagues has had a two week kopfzchmerz caused by some contagious bacterial thingy, and despite the fact I shared a drink with her a couple of nights ago, I'm in complete denial over the fact that this could be the cause.

That ain't it, kid. That ain't it.

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