The paradox of pain medicine

Headaches, blasted headaches. I has them, I hates them.

Six weeks into this whole headaches nonsense, and I've found one thing that makes the pain recede enough so I can accomplish more than rubbing the sides of my head and whimpering. My doctor prescribed some Vicodin, which has the power to dial down the headache from "somebody shoot me" to "I think I'm going to make it".

Vicodin has an "I love you, man..." component that has made me remarkably pleasant to be around for about two weeks. There is also a side effect that makes one a little grumpy if taken for a long period of time. And by grumpy, I mean a bit of "Come here so I can rip off your arm and beat you with it".

So I'm walking a line between headache management and relationship management, which has made for some pretty funny conversations. My sister in law told me to stop whining last night, and a few days prior I told my husband to sit down and shut up his fat face before I pop 'ya one.

But I'm aware of my short fuse, and try to moderate my intake of the magic pain eraser pills so I don't become a raving lunatic. The problem is that my headache also make me a bit snappish, so either way, the primary people in my life are pretty well up a creek right now.

Keep your fingers crossed for them...