I can’t pretend that the last 8 days have been a blast. They have produced nothing but migraine headaches, and they have kindly brought with them all the horrible additional symptoms of migraine. Nausea, dizzy spells, light sensitivity, brain of mush, etc. Mr Migraine is NOT a lonesome traveller. Each time I have approached the computer my vision has changed and the typical ‘migraine aura’ has had me shutting everything down. I feel that I am risking it, even now.
When I could stand it no longer, and when I had wound myself up to tantrum proportions, I went back to the doctor. She was less than impressed when I confessed to having already started cutting down on the tablets pre prescribed. She found it hard to see my logic. I didn’t. What’s the point in taking a high dosage of something (she said it wasn’t) if the drug changes you into the undead, and you still get migraines breaking through? She even showed me the paperwork from the God-like consultant I saw way back, and there it was in black and white – his recommendation that they should keep upping the dosage until it reached enough to floor an elephant. Bloody idiot! I told the doctor that the consultant had been an obnoxious moron and that it was pretty apparent at the time that he was trying to kill me. After this she kinda took me seriously.
A long story short, we (?) decided that I should come off the existing drug and start a new one. I, start it tonight, so if I appear to have left the planet you will know that I am prostrate somewhere, attempting to rise to the challenge of a new drug. If there is such a thing as reincarnation I am coming back next time as someone who is insensitive to everything.
I have done very little during this time. I’ve managed to sort out the chucks each day and organise the garden, with shades rammed against my eyeballs, and a filthy sun hat, that I found on the floor of the shed, flattening my unwashed hair. The garden is coming to life beautifully (shame about yours truly!) and even with all these horrible symptoms I can only stand and stare.
There’s not much going on in the ‘greening up’ department, but the ‘boys’ are back. The boys being the plague of frogs that make their way back to their birthplace, each year. The water literally bubbles with activity and it is impossible to count their numbers, but if you sneak up on them, and they don’t hear you coming, there are little heads sticking out of the water, all around the pond. Obviously the boys are all pigging-backing the females as the breeding fenzy is played out. And they show no remorse if there aren’t enough females to go round, they just pile on top of each other, and perform a leaning tower of frogs. I fear that the females will never survive but they always appear to, and what’s more I think they like it?
I fear the story with the tadpoles isn’t as successful, as the 3 remaining pond fish, now at least thirty-years old, and the size of small dolphins, take a lot of the spawn and growing taddies. And every year, as soon as the spawn is laid, we seem to get a hard frost and the spawn exposed above the water suffers.
To say that the frogs are manic, and only have one thing on their minds, is an understatement. They will grab anything that moves and I noticed that the old goldfish was struggling, near the top-third of the water, which wasn’t right. The fish don’t come that near to the top of the water at this time of year, so I grabbed a net and called for Richard (3 times….and even that hurt my sore head) and when he appeared I cradled the fish in the net, so that it couldn’t dive, and Richard removed a rather disappointed frog from the goldfish’s face.
Sleeping hasn’t been a blast either. The foxes are mating in the back field and their screeches and screams fill the late nights and the early mornings. And then the dog, a few doors down, that apparently lives outside, starts barking and doesn’t have a turn-off switch. I was a hairs breadth from hanging out of the bedroom window and screaming, ‘Shut the eff up!’ but I figured it would hurt too much. And then the owl starts hoot-hooting…and then the wood pigeons, nesting in the conifer outside the bedroom window, start hoo-hoo-hoo-hooing…and accompanying all of this, from dusk to dawn, is the sound of croaking frogs. Lovely!
For those of you who are following the ‘broad bean count’…and I know you are out there, don’t deny it, the score is even better now because I’ve bought some more. So… Chea 2. Slugs 1 and Gail 17! Ha!
I’m going now before I push my luck. And if the new medication doesn’t kill me …I’ll be back.