When everything is terrible

Helen Chappell on achieving with an illness:

I won the NSF Graduate Research Fellowship when I was 22. After the dean stopped by my office to congratulate me, all I could think about was that I’d never be good enough to deserve it, that I won it by some fluke. I stopped on the way home that day to get my nose pierced. My logic, I remember vividly, was that after shoving a needle through my face, my day could only get better. I gorged myself on chicken and biscuits as comfort for my horrible day. My horrible day where I’d just won a prestigious fellowship.

On the bright side

I shared a chart of my recent migraines with you all the other day under a singularly depressing title. When I woke up this morning yet again feeling like vomiting, “everything will be terrible forever” seemed like an even more appropriate description for my migraine log than it did last week. However, as overwhelming and awful as being chronically ill can be, I feel like last week’s chart left out some rather important data. I’ve corrected that oversight in the graph below:

chart_1(3)Yes, I’m getting more migraines than I want to.  But as long as I’m getting migraines, it’ll be more than I’d like. And not so long ago, the colors on this chart would have been reversed. Maybe lovely years like my first in Epiphyte City will be the exception rather than the rule, but things are still pretty darn good relative to 4 years ago.

Yes, migraines are slowing down my PhD. This is really stressful, but only when I’m thinking about my advisor being disappointed or my long term career. But I am still working, slowly and when I just sit down and work, I take great pleasure in what I’m doing. So I might not be a fantastic grad student, but I like what I do and it’s going to be interesting and useful to other people – it just might take me a while longer or be smaller than I’d hoped. And isn’t that true for all grad students?

Yes, I don’t get to spend as much time with the people I love as I would like. But when I do spend time with my friends and partners, it is wonderful. And I have people in my life who spend good time with me no matter how I feel.

I’m still really sad about and frightened by my migraines, but I have to remind myself that my life isn’t as awful as it seems when I’m in the middle of one.

 

An electroshock tiara for your migraines

So I’m going to tell my supervisor Wednesday that the migraine medicine that looked like it was working had some problematic side effects.1 After blundering through a bit of work during a migraine hangover today, I decided to do a bit of research on the latest and greatest in migraine treatments.

The first bridges the gulf between your latest bit of Star Trek cosplay, a medical device, and that most indispensable of fashion accessories – the tiara.  Unlike a normal tiara, which just sits there sparkling, this one connects you to the borg applies a wee bit of electricity to the trigeminal nerve. Just what I’ve always wanted!

If you’re not into wearing a tiara all day, you can try applying this giant electromagnet to your brain. It also goes well with the giant purse trend and looks like it builds upper body strength. I actually really want to try one.

springtms

If that seems a bit too hands on, you can also give your s.o. the remote control for the electrode your doctor has implanted in your head.

Other potential remedies include snorting special k.

1. I’m still on the fence about whether to tell her about the stroke + heart attack symptoms that prompted the immediate nixing of those meds.

What’s wrong with you young folks?

I was scolded a few years ago by an aging, white, male hippie about the music young people listen to today. Who was our Woodie Guthrie or Bob Dylan or Pete Seeger? I tried to convince him that there was a whole lot of music made after the 70s that protested injustice (hello, riot grrl!), but I didn’t make much progress with him. I wish I’d had this article to send him.

I’m fortunate you believe in a dream
This orphanage we call a ghetto is quite a routine

— Kendrick Lamar

Though I’m not sure it would have made a difference – he didn’t seem to think issues around race, class, and gender were things worth protesting – only war and maybe the stifling nature of suburbia.

While you’re waiting for the bus

A semi-weekly list of stuff worth reading

In lab today – clubmosses

Massive Bird Nests Built on Telephone Poles in Southern Africa are Home to Multiple Species of Birds

Massive Bird Nests Built on Telephone Poles in Southern Africa are Home to Multiple Species of Birds nests nature birds Africa

Sanders and Boxer introduce ‘fee and dividend’ climate bill; greens tickled pink Do it

Anti-anxiety drug found in rivers makes fish more aggressive Surprise!

GMO fail: Monsanto foiled by feds, Supreme Court, and science Epistasis happens folks. Can’t just pretend you’ve got Va

Genetic system performs logic operations and stores data in DNA It’s alive?

The deleted passage of the declaration of independence (1776) Bad editing destroys millions of lives

Annals of Walking – 17  Walk!

Five false myths that make liberals feel good

Graphs that make me feel like everything will be terrible forever

days with migraine

And February isn’t even over yet.

When you consider the fact that it takes a day or two for me to really get back to normal after a migraine, is it any wonder my proposal feels like it’s three million years away from being finished?

Time to start spending more quality time at the doctor’s. And I guess I’d better pare down my life and commitments to migraine levels. Goodbye swing dancing, social life, side projects!

This is how to build

A Visit

Gone are the days
when you could walk on water.
When you could walk.

The days are gone.
Only one day remains,
the one you’re in.

The memory is no friend.
It can only tell you
what you no longer have:

a left hand you can use,
two feet that walk.
All the brain’s gadgets.

Hello, hello.
The one hand that still works
grips, won’t let go.

That is not a train.
There is no cricket.
Let’s not panic.

Let’s talk about axes,
which kinds are good,
the many names of wood.

This is how to build
a house, a boat, a tent.
No use; the toolbox

refuses to reveal its verbs;
the rasp, the plane, the awl,
revert to sullen metal.

Do you recognize anything? I said.
Anything familiar?
Yes, you said. The bed.

Better to watch the stream
that flows across the floor
and is made of sunlight,

the forest made of shadows;
better to watch the fireplace
which is now a beach.

by Margaret Atwood

via 3QD