The Throbbing

Sorry. Those of you who clicked in hoping to read a steamy bodice-ripper are going to be sorely disappointed. The only throbbing going on here is in Val's noggin.

I have a heavy-duty headache. I will stop short of blaming my blog buddy, Kathy, who had such an ailment a few days ago. Just because I might have brushed up against some of her germs in the comments section is no reason to make her my personal Typhoid Mary. It could be anything. I am breathed on by the teeming student populace on a daily basis. It could be anything. The Pony had a headache Monday night into Tuesday morning. He doesn't breathe on me too much. But he paws at the remote control. I know that. So I don't go touching anywhere on my face after handling it after he does. It could be anything.

One thing it could be is a broken neck. Okay. That's a little far-fetched. But the stabbing pain started last night at midnight, when I woke up in my recliner in front of the big-screen. One minute I was watching Chopped, waiting to see who won the round with the Cornish game hens, or little chickens, as Frank Costanza might say, just before asking who's having sex with the hen, and the next minute I was trying to keep my head from splitting open. It seems that I was not properly positioned for my chair nap. My neck was askew. It throbbed like the sinuses above my eyes.

I could not believe I was nearly done in by my loyal recliner. I felt as betrayed as John Wayne as Rooster Cogburn in True Grit, lamenting that his horse Bo had put a foot wrong. My recliner has never dared give me such a headache before. One more time, and it's off to the glue factory for him, by cracky!

This day was a miserable study in pain. Had I plans at school good enough for a sub to follow, I would have used a sick day. However, typing up sub plans would have been more painful than enduring the everyday routine. And I was already at school. Besides, I had duty this morning, and duty this afternoon.

By nine-thirty, I had popped an aspirin. At eleven-thirty, Acetaminophen joined Aspirin in Stomach Lake. And as soon as three-thirty rolled around, Ibuprofen arrived late to the gastric swim party. This throbbing noggin is accompanied by shooting pains down the back of my neck. I'm not sure which came first. But they are a darnable duo. Darn them! Darn them all to heck! I like a good Charlton Heston quote every now and then, too.

Nothing is working out for me. I went to fill my giant Bubba cup with ice from my Frigidaire ice-maker, and two chunks popped out. One landed on my Croc before skittering across the kitchen floor. Which meant I had to bend over and pick it up. Making my head throb all the more.

It's probably not a good sign that my neck pops and cracks every time I turn my head. However, "The Cracking" is not nearly so good a title as "The Throbbing."