I don’t like talking or writing about migraine. Just thinking the word makes me feel as though one is starting.
I hadn’t had one for almost ten years, until last night. Then, of course, it arrived when the husband was away overnight and I had to get the boy up, dressed and out to school while I was almost incapable of doing any of those things myself. Fortunately he’s of an age where you can say to him, “get dressed” and “get breakfast” and he will. After a fashion, with much mess and distraction and stopping to cast spells or run naked up the stairs. Or suddenly become a spaceman ninja (no, I don’t know either!) And fortunately, we live in a village community where I have only to ask and another mum willingly adds one more to the number of children she’s escorting this morning.
There are positives and negatives when it comes to working at home and being ill. There is no boss to convince that yes, you really are ill and, no, you really can’t “just do this one thing…” But the flip side of that is that there isn’t anyone to take on the workload when you crawl back to bed in a darkened room. The work will still be waiting when you crawl back out again. So in many cases the boss (me) can be quite insistent!
Fortunately I learnt from another boss many years ago the rather mercenary-sounding phrase, “you’re no use to me when you’re ill. Go home and get better.” (I think he said it more eloquently and definitely more politely – he is a very eloquent and polite man – but that’s how I quote it to myself.) So I didn’t feel at all guilty about getting back under the covers this morning and, as a result, managed to do something vaguely useful, though not very taxing, this afternoon. If I’d struggled on for the morning as well I doubt I’d have got any further.