Folks, it has been been a while. I have some really, really good excuses, though. The past month has been chock full of health issues here at the House of Chaos, with things just finally getting back to some semblance of normal.

But where to start? Hmm… how about with the day after my eye procedure…..

So.

Vicodin? And me? Yeah, we don’t mix well. It was all fine and dandy, our first encounter the night of my procedure. Vicodin lured me in with hints of comfort and calm. Vicodin lulled me to sleep, putting all thoughts of pain behind me.

The morning came and memories of Vicodin were sweet. At 6:30am I called upon Vicodin’s powers. “Give me some comfort like you gave me last night?”

But Vicodin is fickle. No longer comforting, no longer wiping the pain away, Vicodin reared its ugly head and made my body shake and sweat.

“What are you doing to me? Don’t you love me anymore?”

Vicodin had shown its true colors.

————-

By 8:45am, Jack had already left for work, and Christine had taken Henry and Miranda out to run errands. I had already recognized that it wasn’t going to be a good day. Faint, familiar feelings of nausea had already made brief appearances, but I had to get Ethan to a doctor’s appointment by 9:30.

“Ethan. Listen to me carefully,” I said in a low voice. “I do not feel well. I might have to throw up. Please go get your shoes on and make sure you are ready to go when I say so.”

His eyes grew wide, and he nodded. “Okay, Mommy,” he whispered with memories of the last time he had to witness Mommy tossing her cookies. I made a dash for the bathroom and he made a dash for his shoes.

I pulled myself together, and we got into the car. We made it to the doctor’s office — late — and I spent the bulk of the time with my head on the table, apologizing profusely for the state I was in. We ended up staying in the waiting room when the appointment was over so I could lay my head down and still my body. Bless Ethan’s heart, he played with a mancala game while he patiently waited for me.

“Come on, buddy. We have to get you to camp.”

Out the door, in the elevator, down to the first floor. Out the door, to the car, step by step I barely held it together. I opened the car door, tossed Ethan my cellphone, and told him to get in.

“You can play a game on the phone, dude,” I whispered. “I’m sorry. I think I’m going to throw up again.”

And so I did…right on top of the bark in the huge potted plant next to my car in the parking lot. Twice. I don’t think anyone was around to witness it, but I hardly cared at the time. I DID care enough to cover it all up with other bark, however.

I got him to camp, staggered back to my car where I had to lie still for ten minutes, and then went to my eye doctor for the day after follow-up. The eye looked great; I did not.

The rest of the day played out similarly to the morning. Christine (thank heavens for Christine!) picked up Ethan from camp on her way to another babysitting job (for one of Ethan’s friends — she called ahead and they were happy to have him there) and Jack picked him up later in the evening. I was in no shape to drive. By the kids’ bedtimes I was still feeling shaky, but better. I vowed to never take Vicodin again.

At 6:30am the next morning I woke with a jolt as Jack bolted out of bed. “What’s wrong?” I queried.

“I’m going to throw up.”

He stayed in bed all day that day (it was a Friday — you’ll need to know that for the next post), and though my day started out okay, it became progressively worse. See, I was riding out a full-fledged migraine, but didn’t really know it. The pain was focused in the eye socket of the eye that I had had the procedure on, so I assumed it was post-procedure eye pain. It turns out, as my eye doctor and I figured out later, that my eye pain and strain had triggered a migraine. By the time I took my migraine medication, I had already thrown up twice.

Yeah. Good times in the House of Chaos.

It took only forty minutes for my migraine medication to alleviate the massive pain and nausea I had been experiencing for hours (HOURS!). Throughout all this, Jack had been upstairs, in and out of sleep, and in and out of the bathroom, paying homage to the porcelain gods.

Christine picked up Ethan from camp again that day, as I was in no state to drive. After they got home — since we had already made plans for her to come back the next day for a few hours — she stated that she was taking one of my little ones to her house overnight so I wouldn’t have to deal with the two of them at bedtime. “You need to get to bed early.” She packed up a bunch of things, ushered Henry to her car, and didn’t return until ten the next morning.

I slept on the couch that night, worried that I might catch whatever it was that was ailing Jack. By the morning I was feeling like a new woman, but Jack was feeling much, much worse.

Some of you might already know how this plays out. For those who don’t, stay tuned…