By Jennifer Savage
I have had a headache the past few days. It’s probably a headache like anyone gets: not enough water, not enough sleep, too much coffee. But for me, even the smallest headache sends me to a place of doctors and needles and ice packs on my neck.
An excruciating throb at the base of the skull is a tell-tale sign of meningitis. Ever since I had it last summer, headaches have become a bigger part of my life. I don’t think I get them any more often than I did before I got sick, I think they just hurt worse when I do and they seem to settle in the same place where the headache that sent me to the hospital did.
Mostly though, they freak me out. I try to convince myself that I’m not getting ill again. It’s extremely rare for someone to get meningitis twice. (I cannot count the number of times I’ve said that sentence to myself over the past few months.) I tell myself I’m much healthier, that I know what to look for if meningitis came calling again and that if I did get it again, I know where to go and that the doctors and nurses there will take care of me. I take ibuprofen, I go to yoga, I run if I can stand the pounding. These things ease the pain and tension but nothing helps the hard-wired fear.
When I get a headache it goes a little something like this: wake up, head hurts. Take ibuprofen, drink water. Worry. Headache usually starts to subside but I get tense, which makes my neck hurt, that makes my head hurt worse. It’s a hard cycle to break.
My doctor suspects there are a few things going on: not enough water, hormone shifts and muscle memory. The first two we can deal with today but the last is something that will take time. Just as I do, the muscles in my neck remember that afternoon in June when nothing seemed right. When I get a headache now, those muscles tense up in a way that means it may take days before I can look over my shoulder or put my chin to my chest.
Since last summer the headaches have gotten better and I know they will likely continue to do so as my muscles find other things to remember. But it has taken a lot of deep breathing these past few days to remind myself of this.
When I get a headache I try to remember that everyone gets headaches, that I got them before I had meningitis. But it’s hard not to think when my head hurts that my life isn’t going to be dumped out and strewn apart again. It’s hard not to think something bad won’t happen because something bad did happen. I got really sick. It took a long time for my body to recover. It’s taken even longer for me to recover emotionally.
These past few months have been filled with Lucille saying “Oh, shit!” and belly laughing at herself, with Eliza telling me she’s going to run a marathon while wearing her basketballin’ clothes, with quiet nights with Seth after the kids go to sleep. We’re planning garden beds, a sandbox and a climbing wall for the backyard. We’re just now finding the space to process our move to town from the country, just now consistently finding stability and confidence. In my mind, a headache is a direct threat to all of that.
So I suppose a minor, perfectly normal ache holds a little more weight for me that most. It’s a reminder of the fragility of it all. When I get tense and my head starts to hurt, I want to hold on even tighter to everything in my life. I want to make sure nothing knocks us off of our axis again.
Most days, I don’t think about meningitis, I think about Lucille giving Eliza “sister love,” I think about going to Costco, I think about paying the mortgage. I think about taking a weekend trip with Seth. These days it’s only when I get a twinge of pain in my skull that the fear resurfaces.
In all of this I’ve learned that what will be, will be no matter how tight I hold on. I’ve also learned that we have come through a hard time. The getting through was imperfect most of the time but we are on the other side of it happily dinking with garden beds. This is as close to reassurance as I think we get.
Jennifer Savage is a writer and mama of Eliza and Lucille. Lately, she’s learning to be a city girl. She writes from her home in Missoula, Montana. She is also one of Mamalode’s favorite writers and you can fall in love with her too at Savagemama.com Read more of Jennifer’s mamalode articles here
Similar Posts:
- savagemama: Going to the mat
- savagemama: A mark in time
- savagemama: It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity
- savagemama: Stout hill to climb
- Mama(lode) says: Whose side are you on, anyway?
Love what you read? Share it!
Email This Post
Oh mama, hang in there.
I wish you a speedy recovery, and that fantastic memories find their place in your muscle memory, to ward away all the worry.
My best to you.
I get you on this one, dear friend. The physical memory is there but so is the emotional memory. That was scary stuff. I am inspired by your self awareness through the whole thing. You’re doing great.
Also, at first I read that second to last sentence as ‘drinking with garden beds.’ heh. That helps too.
[...] Mostly though, they freak me out. I try to convince myself that I’m not getting ill again. It’s extremely rare for someone to get meningitis twice. (I cannot count the number of times I’ve said that sentence to myself over the past few months.) I tell myself I’m much healthier, that I know what to look for if meningitis came calling again and that if I did get it again, I know where to go and that the doctors and nurses there will take care of me. I take ibuprofen, I go to yoga, I run if I can stand the pounding. These things ease the pain and tension but nothing helps the hard-wired fear. Read More » [...]