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Hmm, my head hurts. I’ll turn out the lights and go to bed.
Oh. Wow. My head definitely hurts. I’ll pop some pills and drink some water.
This is a headache of the ages. That’s it, I’m dying.
Where’s my iPhone? I need to look up excruciating headaches.
I can’t spell ‘excruciating’ for the life of me! Brain.Under.Attack.
Migraines… tension headaches… cluster headaches…it could really be any of these.
I think it’s all of these!
It’s been over half an hour and this medicine hasn’t kicked in at all.
Aw, my cat is actually cuddling with me. This never happens. How sweet.
Oh hail no, it must because he can sense I’m about to die like that cat at the old folks’ home!*
Shoo, George! Shoo!
Hm, the iPhone says it could be meningitis, a stroke, an aneurism, or my brain is swelling.
It certainly feels
like my head is about to explode, but does it feel like it’s swelling?
Maybe if I just lay on my back with my arm flung across my forehead, I can keep my brain from swelling.

Oh, geez, can I still feel my tongue?!… Oh wait… yeah I can. Okay, that’s good.
George! Stop looking at me with your creepy doom eyes!

Is that Leisel? Is she home?
“Leiselllll….”
Did she hear me?
“Leiselllll….”
Why can’t she hear me? Maybe I’m too weak. Because I’m dying.
“LEISELLLL…”
She needs to know my symptoms so she can tell the doctors!
Oh, hey, Josie, are you up?”
“I have a really bad headache.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you want me to get you a wet washcloth for your head?”
I may as well humor her.
“Okay, thanks. But I think I’m having an aneurism.”
“You’re not having an aneurism.”
Did she just snort derisively? Can I manage a right hook when I’m flat on my back?
Do I really know what a right hook is, even?
Shoot, I’m utterly defenseless. Note to self: learn how to hit.
“You just need some sleep and you’ll feel better in the morning.”
“You’re probably right.”
You’re wrong.
As if I could sleep when my brain is swelling. As if I could focus on anything but this god-awful– oh wow, that washcloth feels divine.
That is incredible. Who knew damp cloths were magical?
“Night Jo, feel better.”
She really is a nice roomie.
A little dumb, though. ‘Go to sleep.’ Ha. Sleep is nowhere in my future. The pain is all consuming.
But really what is the wonderment that is this washcloth? Is this my washcloth?
It’s too dark to read the label. If I live until morning I need to remember to check the label and go buy…
…What time is it? Did I really just sleep two hours? My head feels so much better.
Oh no. That means Leisel was right. Balls.
Okay, remember not to tell her that.
And to buy some more of these washcloths.

*This cat is all-knowing. Like Mrs. Norris in Harry Potter. Only with old people.

** I know how to appropriately capitalize titles, but the code of this layout overrides such things. So all those incorrectly capitalized articles are not my doing. :: twitch ::

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