Falling

It's been a rough couple of weeks.

Depending, of course, on where you stand, and how you choose to view things.

A cold front blew in last week and nearly knocked us sideways. A high of 52 degrees with a low down to a frosty 28 overnight brought us all back to reality with a quick jerk like a yappy little dog on a short leash running for the front sidewalk. You could see it in everyone's eyes that morning, you couldn't miss it, their eyes were all wide open with a stunned look of disbelief, as they scraped the car windshield and ran the car a bit longer than usual before driving in to work.

It always happens. We get lost in the lust of summer's heat, pretending it's the real thing, a lasting relationship instead of just a torrid fling, drunk with promises of more and better days ahead. Then we wake, alone, deserted in a cold bed, aware but not acknowledging the truth just yet.

It's easier this way, convincing ourselves summer still loves us, that she's coming back; that the changing colour of the leaves is only a bad dream, that the wisps of sweet smoke curling up from the chimneys in the cool morning nothing more than dramatic imagery for our private play. And she may yet return, briefly for certain if she does, but in the back of our minds we know. The curtain falls slowly but hard.

I've been battling a pretty good round of headaches over the last few weeks, after having had an amazing run of summer symptom-free. My eyesight took a great big hit, knocking me down and almost out, lost in a shadowy fog that would give way to an inordinate amount of visual noise that was ever present (and still is to a large degree) like the static on the old black and white tv after the late show ended and the station went off the air.

In my case it was faint, but still there, behind or in front of everything I saw - because it wasn't 'out there' it was and is 'in here,' not a sight related issue, but a perception one, something interfering with my brains ability to properly process what images my eyes were providing. Coupled with the shadows and faint bursts of light mixed in with the silky fibers of the floaters that have always been a part of my world...

The headaches were the easy part. You can take the edge off those with meds.

But when you close your eyes and seek refuge in darkness, hoping to hide away from the kaleidoscope turning constantly around you, and instead of peaceful, closed-eye stillness find those shadows and flashes of colour and motion have followed you inside, you fall into a hole of helplessness that takes some getting used to, and no idea how to climb out.

The constant, steady pounding is almost a relief at that point, as it lulls you nearer to acceptance and offers an escape should you be able to fall alseep, free from the codeine-induced itch and nausea and queasiness and heavy headed imbalance you've subjected yourself to in the hopes of finding that peaceful state of lowered consciousness.

It's an amazing perspective. People pay good money to find these hallucinations through chemical means, but they know they will come off that high and return to a new normal, never quite the same again, perhaps, but it's the risk they take.

I didn't choose to take that risk, but I'm playing the odds whether I like it or not, so I may as well enjoy the ride if I can. It would be a hell of alot more interesting if it were happening to someone else though.

Welcome to my fall so far. I'm longing for the pain-free days with that temptress and her scorching, empty promises, and hollow lies. But I'm also desperately in need of that steady, undying, real love that has always and will always be there for me, waiting patiently in the wings, for me to leave the childishness of summer behind for the realities of fall and the good and just changes she brings. When she wraps me in her tender embrace and holds and keeps me, safe, secure, and warm, as the cool air tickles the back of my neck and I adjust my collar and pull her closer as we walk, slowly towards home and its comfortable warmth.

If I stop and close my eyes, I know I can see it, if I try hard enough, and can block the rest of it out, I can see her and its all perfect, and I'm falling for her again.

Lazy Sundays

It's another quiet Sunday morning, and I'm enjoying a perfect cup of coffee. Well, perfect except for the missing cream - we ran out the other morning and it never made the grocery list - not that it would have mattered - no one has been grocery shopping since earlier in the week, what with the early morning (or late night, depending on your place of residence) Royal wedding festivities of Friday, and the subsequent laziness and afternoon napping they brought even though it was a gorgeous 76 degrees out on the deck in the afternoon sun; and then Mother Nature let us have it yesterday with a gloomy, grey, rain filled day that overnight has morphed into a Winter Wonderland. Talk about change.

We got off fairly easy though - mostly rain in that storm, not like those to the west and north of us - reports from home have drifts higher than the trash barrel in the back yard, and cancelled funerals and postponed graduations, to go with the odd abandoned car on Main Street.

Main Street Dauphin, MB May 1, 2011

Looking out this morning we're content to stay inside and watch old movies and take it easy.

I can go for that today.  I need a do-over for yesterday.  A migraine kept me sidelined for most of my Birthday, seeking refuge in the darkness and quiet of the bedroom.  The weather outside helped with that, and made it less of an inconvenience to not be feeling well enough to be outside being productive.  I'm sure the changing weather played a role in my misfortune yesterday - I'm still feeling a bit fragile - and I'm sure the doctor's take on stress affecting it as well isn't too far off either.    Your body will have it in for you if you don't listen to it more closely.

We know that of course, but most of us are too busy 'being productive' to pay attention.  Deadlines and urgent matters get our attention first and foremost, the necessary and the needed aspects of our lives get shoved deeper down the list; further to the bottom of the pile, until something gives and we're forced to change.

The call from the Zoning Officer got placed in a much higher priority than perhaps it should have, and it sent me on a quest to deal with his Variance Application as quickly as I could hoping to limit the length of the delay to starting construction on the project.  I composed my Letter of Intent to the City along with  printing off a new set of plans for the application, and then we spent a nice bit of Thursday evening going door-to-door and speaking with our neighbours and explaining what we were planning and what the City was requiring us to do and why, and asking for their support in the matter.  Everyone we spoke with was happy to sign our application in favour of our renovation - and it was great to visit with the people you see everyday but don't speak with nearly enough.  Remind me to change that.

But couple that flurry of late Thursday activity with a less than stellar sleep thanks to a Royal Wedding watching Spouse (who made fresh cinnamon buns for the occasion just like she and her mom did 30 years earlier on the occasion of Charles and Di's union) and a first-thing-Friday-morning trip down to the Land Titles office to have a title search done for the Variance application, in case you were fortunate enough to be able to schedule an appointment with your Zoning Officer for later in the day... and you've probably got a recipe for something to give.

So something did.  And I paid the price, and today I'm not going to worry about it.  I'm going to finish writing and enjoying this coffee, and maybe enjoy a Lazy Sunday Afternoon watching those old movies and letting Mother Nature do what she needs out there.  Change is good for us, as much as we fight against it, and the sooner we learn to accept it, and go with it, the better all things will be for all of us.

Scootch over, and quit hogging the blankie, let's let this one ride and see what tomorrow brings.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear...

Migraines are cunning creatures.

One minute you're living your life in all it's ignorant glory, watching Cesar's seemingly effortless canine behavior modification, and the next you're suddenly aware that parts of the flat screen image have become like your car's blind spot, except you've lost parts of your field of vision directly in front of you, not over your shoulder, like some distorted digital image captured on your child's handheld game device, it's stylus churning a once recognizable picture into a blurred mass of colour. But there's no 'restore' button to press; no 'undo' feature to this experience.

I watched a portion of my world disappear again Saturday evening, awed by the sensations appearing somewhere between my reality and my consciousness. I've moved beyond the fear and panic of that very first episode a few years ago, when I wasn't sure what was happening and whether I was about to have a stroke or an aneurism or something worse. Was it visual? Neurological? Physical? A combination? Was I losing my eyesight? Would it be permanent or just a temporary inconvenience? Was it a result of my surroundings or something I'd ingested or been exposed to? A reaction? What?! Once I was able to quiet my racing mind and realize that while something was most definitely happening to me, I was in no immediate danger, I was able to deal with my new state in more concrete terms.

The tunnel vision was a treat, and I likely shouldn't have tried driving home, but hey, you live and learn, right?

As further portions of my surroundings dropped from my field of view this past weekend, replaced by a void of clarity, I watched and waited patiently, knowing full well what might come next; half expecting it, half dreading it, but always mindful to be present in the moment. No two occurrences are alike. Some last much longer than others; some pose very little discomfort during the aura phase; others affect me much more severely in terms of vision impairment; each one brings something new to the table.

Sometimes its simply a loss of vision in one small area, and it will clear with the passage of time, perhaps with a headache, perhaps not; maybe the light-sensitivity this time, or maybe I'll escape unscathed and be able to resume normal activities relatively quickly. But when the blurred areas of vision continue to bind together in ever tightening currents of jagged contrasts, I know I'm in for a wild ride. So I watch the magical, hallucinogenic effects of my brain appearing in my eyesight with interest and appreciation, surveying the zig-zag lines for new patterns and colours, trying to remember them for later, much later, when the pounding finally subsides, and the pain recedes to more tolerable levels.

Then I admit defeat and seek remedy for the impending events, taking solace in dark, quiet spaces, fatigued and drained without much apparent effort, to ride out the storm.

Morning may bring relief.

Or it may not.

Usually the new dawn brings a shallow, fragile, hollowness, and mental dullness. Tired eyes still sensitive; remnants of aching echoing throughout; time the only cure. Sunday brought small comfort; the lingering symptoms never far from the surface. Monday seemed more hopeful, and life was attempted with gusto, though I find myself still affected this evening as I write.

The appreciation and interest have waned considerably.