That was the week that was

And I'm focussing hard on the past tense of that title.

Monday I go to my GP, fill out my prescriptions, and come home instead of my normal sociable Monday evening.

Tuesday I leave work before 11am because I need to come home and lie down--the pain is bad enough that I'm having difficulty keeping my eyes open. Some time and two Percocet later I grab a ride to the ER. I like to try and hold out, but this puppy isn't going anywhere and I can't do anything.

Push comes to shove, I have a could-be-worse ER visit with an asshole doctor, which requires me to sneak out the back door. The pain was startlingly bad, but I need to get home for a number of reasons, even before you get to my typical anxiety attack.

Wednesday is not great. Wednesday is the sort of day that would send me to the ER. Except so was Tuesday. I bite down and pretend to be useful and don't seek medical attention. I do get to test the injectable Imitrex, which worked for at least a while. I inform my GP who suggests sticking with injectable, and perhaps stronger narcotics.

Thursday kicks my ass. No point going in to work. I make the decision to lie back down and sleep till almost noon. I end up taking too many painkillers for my liver's health, but we're both still here so it worked out.

But that was a lot of pain. Each of those three days would have recalibrated my 1-10 pain scale all by their lonesome. Together? We're talking post-concussive-syndrome level of pain.

Not sure what I did to provoke that.

But today is Friday. The pain was bad, but not staggeringly so. In fact, the first headache didn't come on until about an hour after I woke up, which is just like a vacation.

And tomorrow is Saturday: my acupuncturist is back in town. I'm hoping he can break the cycle that the ER failed to. Otherwise I'm shackled all too tightly.