That title doesn’t mean anything other than I have a crushing headache that I suspect might kill me. If I never post again, you’ll know it did. If it does kill me and I find out you didn’t mourn my death and cry like a baby, I will haunt you.

I went to see MoC this afternoon and she was almost her old self. The nurse came in to get her blood sugar and MoC pointed at me and said, “Get hers.”

I should write things down when they happen so I can remember it all … but for some reason I’ve now forgotten I said to my mother, “I’ve known you for, what? 27 years?” And she laughed and laughed. Then she said one of the nurses had asked how old I was and she said, “26.” Ha! Thanks MoC. I think that was actually a bit of brain slippage due to the stroke but it was still a nice compliment. The only thing I can compare it to is the time when I was heavily medicated by incompetent doctors. They had me on a combination of antidepressants, mood stabilizers and anti-anxiety meds that made me absolutely stupid. My thought process was slow, but it was still sort of normal, but when I would speak, I would suddenly substitute the word I wanted with a word that made no sense. If I wanted to say, “What color is that chair?” it might come out “What color is your lunch?” There seemed to be no connection between the word I wanted to say and the word I actually said.

We had a very nice conversation, though, and then I called her tonight to remind her that Dancing with the Stars was on. And then I actually watched part of it so that we could discuss it when I see her again. I know – pathetic, isn’t it? But I know she likes the show and wants to know what’s happening and it’s a way for her to stay connected with the world. Damn, I’m a good daughter.

This isn’t what I had planned to write, but that post seems to be locked behind this headache. Please send me narcotics and/or opiates.*

*Dear DEA agent: That was a joke.