Shell-shocked

Whew.
I think I'm still recovering from the emotional stresses this summer has bestowed on me.
First, there are Sarah's headaches, now diagnosed officially as migraines. I should probably say "headache," as she hasn't been completely without it since mid-May. Fortunately, the preventive medicine she's taking has helped, and hopefully will continue to do so, as it builds up to its full strength over the next couple of weeks.
She's trying a new medicine to deal with the lingering pain - a "rescue" med rather than preventive. So far it, too, has helped, but nothing seems to zap the headache for good.
Not yet anyway.
Multiple trips to the doctor, the pharmacy, the hospital for EKG and MRI, neurologist appointment, and frustration with our insurance company, calls to the neurologist, but worst of all, Sarah suffering with horrible pain.
All summer long.
On a side note, as I explained to the neurologist our family history, I included the headaches I've have had periodically for the last 20 years. Throbbing, sometimes lasting days, sleeping helps, always on one side of my head, can usually feel the headache coming on ... he diagnosed me on the spot with migraines of my very own.
Awe, and to think I only gave myself credit for tension headaches.
Of course, I can't use his diagnosis, as he's a pediatric neurologist. I'm not yet ready to pursue an official diagnosis for myself, though, as I can usually blast the headaches away within a day with my over-the-counter arsenal of Ibuprofen, Excedrin and naproxen sodium.
Fortunately he didn't laugh as I described my non-prescription pharmacological battle plan - first I take 2 naproxen sodium, then if the headache isn't better in about an hour, I take two Ibuprofen, and try to sleep. If I still have the headache when I get up, I take Excedrin and pray to the great Pain-Reliever in the Sky (Analgesia?) to spare me.
Anyway, I've seen enough doctors this summer without seeking more for myself.

And then there was Zachary, felled by not one, but two potentially deadly intestinal infections, toxic E.coli. and C. Diff. He spent 10 days in the hospital, pumped full of antibiotics and fluids, and is still recovering now weeks later.
I can't believe the suffering he endured.
He escaped major complications, and we're hopeful he won't have a recurrence of the C.Diff., something that happens in about 20% of infections. Don't quote me on that... I'm too tired right now to look up the exact number.
We still don't know how he became infected. My conversation with the Polk County Health Department lasted nearly 30 minutes. The nurse was shocked by how sick my son had been.
One of his gastroenterologists told us that C. Diff. used to only be found among immune-compromised patients, patients already in health care settings, children in daycare, and people who had used certain antibiotics within a few months of the infection. Now, however, there is an epidemic of community-acquired (as in general community) C. Diff. infections, she said.
Another reason for rampant over-use of antibiotics to stop, including in the livestock industry. Yet another reason that I refuse to buy meat from industrialized agriculture, though I do occasionally indulge in a fast food hamburger or pizza with meat toppings.
Of course, my son got the infection anyway.
It's amazing how long it's taking him to come back to full-strength. I can see how this disease, even without major complications, could be deadly to those already weakened by other diseases.
I've learned that I'm great in a crisis, able to hold myself together for the sake of others (and myself, I suppose). The girls were a mess of worry over Zach's illness, and fortunately I was able to help them through their anxieties. I was upbeat for Zachary, polite and knowledgeable with the doctors, ready to advocate and be strong when necessary.
But when it was all over I felt as if I had been run over by a truck and had half my blood drained.
The exhaustion was nearly overwhelming and I found my emotions all over the map. I wanted nothing more than for someone to come take care of me and take over my responsibilities so I could huddle in bed and recuperate.
But we all know that mothers always have to recover on the run, so to speak.
And I have, mostly. Though I still have days when I find myself suddenly on the verge of tears, for no discernible reason. I know my stress level has not yet come back down all the way to Earth. I'm trying to be kind to myself while still being productive.
While I've been able to process a bunch of tomato sauces, make some jam, and cook all our meals from scratch (I'm definitely extra leery of fast food and am trying to build Zachary up again), there are ridiculous projects I don't seem able to take on.
Thank goodness Michael took over freezing all the green beans. He's also been doing the laundry.
And corn.
Good lord, the corn.
Michael's been prepared to pick up a free bushel of corn for us the past two weeks.
Yep, I said "free."
And yet, for some strange reason, I cannot face the corn.
I keep postponing its arrival, hoping it will still be there next week.
Or maybe the next week.
I know it sounds silly, but I think that bushel of corn symbolizes the emotional healing I still need to do.
When I can face the corn, I'll know I'm better.
Maybe next week.