Same’o’same headache

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Morning’s start, I nosed around a bit: read Newbies, found MCL had been unceremoniously deleted from my browser finding her again under Mel of OR’s blogg. Made the observation below and called it quits to cruising.
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Before I forget it. I’m putting my denied message for the pretty lady in Misery here.
Oh! I'm so envious. I'm wishing I could make as attractive header as you've generated here: a Beautiful farm scene across the top and the postage stamp sized picture of yourself. (I applaud you)
Perhaps this winter (sigh), right now saving just what I've got keeps my spare moments busy. (moan)
I'll be talking about you later (smiles).
Fernan
PS: Google’s done it to me again, denying I exist in either name and password. LMAO.
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Back to me……
Slept well all night as I usually do. As long as I’m horizontal, my head’s no problem. The moment I sat up I got it again, The invisibly delivered 2x4 blow laid on me forehead just over left side sort-a between the top of the eye and temple.
I’ve sorted my most essential meds and taken them. Having near a cornucopia selection of pain medications I’ve passed on them until I’ve tried seeing Doc again this morning? Some of the pain has taken up residency in my upper jaw’s hinges.
This much writtened I took to massaging my forehead and pushing I’m assuming what’s maybe collected sinus fluids down along either side my nose. Gosh darn it all, this continuing headache is becoming depressing.
Oh Shit!!! Frieda’s got up putting forth her one of her best Herr Clink’s impersonation’s demanding I get a driver this morning to take me to doc’s office. I should never have mentioned the minuscule black outs.
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I’ve dressed, need to get my oat bag on, but taking a breather reading Paula, trying to imagine her in a bikini after she’d mentioned something about “Curves?” Oh! I am so glad there’s about 2300 miles between us. She just might want to kill me for my thoughts! (smiles)
Go girl! We’ve got to keep moving to hold onto our health. You do whatever it takes. Up here I’ve so many Ladies worried about my welfare, they look for me everyday. Committed, I can’t let them down.
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Frieda’s brought up Jan-Feb. 1963 jeep accident. I looked alright but sustained some serious skull fractures. Doc told her then I had to have the will to live for survival. I guess I did, for I had promised I’d always be here (there) to take care of her. I seemed to have made it this far. I must have had good reason enough!
My thought, “Maybe I’m screwing my hat on to tight?”
I never though about that accident that had nearly killed me. The hospital had only asked me about surgeries. My head was never operated on. I was merely kept under observation was told my ears’ inner bones would heal in time and I’d eventually over come rattled brained injuries‘. What a time that was I couldn’t walk straight for at least a month, always looking as if I were under the influence.
That was also the time I fell out from the church rethinking was it really a necessary or real part of my life? But that is another story.
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Late afternoon - early evening.
5:00 PM, I’m home, Home Sweet Home. Frieda upset to the 8’s she’s on phone looking for me a driver. She’s emphatic I don’t go driving nothing’ anywhere. Only that was after I had used the tractor before she could say no to that. I’ll take even the smallest sneaky little accomplishments. It’s a standard male thing. Anyway, Herr Clink’s gotten on the phone looking for me a driver. Calling Loopymom, she declined on account of pool house construction efforts. Clink having only just hung up, the phone rang, Loopydad had volunteered to take me to Doctor’s office no matter how long it took. “Twas a good thing too. In doc’s office Loopydad knows darn near enough about me as my Clink, offering suggestion, displaying wisdom. My Doctor seeing me shakened and set back by each lightening pain’s strike Doc found me an neurologist for an afternoon appointment. Watching me in the meantime the strikes havin’ become more violent that appointment was moved up to the moment of my arrival at distanced office. Paper work, the informal quiz, waiting, and finally led into a back room where a potential Cancun swimsuit model came in and wired me up to a computerized machine what’d record my brain waves. I even braved telling her, “I’ll give you and hour to stop that.” her smearing some slippery sticky stuff to take connecting a handful of wires to my noggin for my brain’s recording. She asked me, “Why would you do that?” I answered, “It isn’t often I have a pretty young lady like yourself running her fingers through my hair.” She giggled and continued her task. Gooped, tagged, wired, and gauzed to hold me-everything in place she turned the lights down low and had me close my eyes adding “Be quiet.” Then each of us in our chairs I could hear those slender fingers typing information or notes into her computer.
Little happened the first half of the session. I experience a couple small painful lightening strikes. At the beginning of the back half she started talking to me. I conversed with her as quietly as I could and still be heard. We exchanged personal history. I told her about my fifty year ball and chain suffering. She denied my comments for a contented gentleman. For herself she was a bit of a world traveler. She’d actually been to Cancun, almost around the perimeter of the lower 48 states. We exchanged favorite places. She liked the cities and fishing never eating fish (weird girl?), I went for the wide open spaces and wildernesses. She made my noggin checking an easy pleasure.
By and by this doctor re-seen me, asked more questions, by all things one more should have been written. In front of Loopydad, he told us all present he’d found nothing in my head! Treatment, my last prescription from my cardiologist is discontinued. It was putting to many nitrates into my circularity system. I was given two new prescriptions. One for pain (amen). A second, an antibiotic for some questionable (or possible) inflammation in my face for such unusual pain attacks to repeatedly trouble me in the same place.
I’m home, fed, and excused from making hay. I could probably have managed handling a tractor; but, handling a tractor and a hydraulically swinging PTO powered mowing machine could simply be a more difficult matter.
It’s a stay inn night while I continue to suffer the lightening pains for possibly another 24 hours to wear off. Just Ducky! Meanwhile I’m also taking the evening off trying to do anything progressive with this damnable computer and decidedly pain in the arse Google. Every time I try to sign in on Google they tell me I don’t exist. Until I may find there complaint department once again I’ll remain loyal to what words they’ll accept to let me even post my daily journal. So don’t tell me how easy Google is. They’ve already had me change my password three times. No more. I’m done with them. BGKC.
Fernan[/b]