I cried out.
Edith didn’t know what was happening to me. I had no choice but to lean against the grocery shelves, riding out the pain.
“Edith,” I cried out. “Help me. Something’s wrong with my eyes. Take Alex out of the backpack, would you, please?”
Although she was confused, Edith did what I asked without question. Totally liberated now, Alex ran up and down the store aisle, laughing and having the time of his life. Sean wanted to join his brother and squirmed to get out of the cart.
Edith had her two children with her. They wanted to start running around, too. The scene was quickly getting out of control.
Meanwhile, the pain in my head intensified, and I started to sweat. I feared I might have to vomit right between the cereal boxes and the pop-up toaster pastries. Edith stood motionless, unsure about what to do next.
Eventually the pain subsided. I wearily opened my eyes and stood up straight. With Edith’s help, I checked out my purchases. She insisted on driving us home. Gratefully I accepted. At home she unloaded my groceries and gave the kids a snack while I lay down.
“I wish Chuck would get home. I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I said when Edith came into the bedroom to see how I was. “I can’t cope anymore. I wish these headaches would just go away. But they don’t! They come more often and get worse over time.”
“They’re migraines,” Edith interjected.
I guessed she was right. But migraines? Me? How could I be developing migraine headaches all of a sudden?
I had no idea.
I figured perhaps my hectic schedule could be the cause, and I vowed to get better control over the demands in my life. I had to blame something for these recurring headaches. Too little rest. Three toddlers pulling on me all day long. A husband who worked too much. Whatever.
However, no matter how I rearranged the demands of my life in the next few months, nothing helped. I was experiencing at least one bad migraine every day. How could I cope with the boys’ needs when I could barely stand up because of the pain?
Before those first couple of headaches, I never had a problem sleeping. But I was having trouble getting any rest now. And stress. Stress had always pushed me into action instead of getting me down. I was always happy-go-lucky, a person full of energy, always on the go. I loved doing things with my three boys. I enjoyed gardening, taking the children on walks, playing with the dog. I really liked my life. That was, until now. I was changing, both physically and emotionally, and my life was changing. The changes were intensifying, too, and not for the better.
I was losing control of myself day by day. I started having problems with the kids and with my marriage.
Handling the boys had become less rewarding. When they bickered and fought over toys or were messy, I used to see the humor in it. Now I yelled. When they dropped food on the floor, I cried.
I could not seem to keep the house straightened or food prepared.
I continuously asked my husband to spend more time at home. “You’re never around to help,” I protested. “I need more support with the boys. I’m so tired.”
“Okay, Baby,” he replied blankly, but his attention was on the ten o’clock news.
I had no energy. Because I couldn’t get a good night’s sleep, I was worn out during the day. If the boys didn’t take a nap, I got very cross. “Go to sleep!” I screamed at them more than once. “Give Mommy a break. I’m worn out. I’m so tired.” When they finally slept, I’d fall into my own bed for any rest I could steal.
My husband didn’t understand what I was going through. Gone by 7:00 A.M. and not home until after 9:00 P.M. every day, he seemed tired and on edge, too.
Why was I acting like this? Chuck worked hard as a self-employed contractor. I knew this. So why was his routine suddenly bothering me?
“My schedule never bothered you before,” he said.
“It does now!” I snapped back.
Something was happening to me. I didn’t know why I was changing, but something mysterious was taking control of my life.
I grew up in Dallas, Texas and had an enchanting childhood. I have one sibling, a sister. We’re both adopted and not related. Beth was adopted three years before me. But I always considered her my sister. Growing up, we met movie stars, producers and directors, rode in limousines, and ate at fancy restaurants. My father, Fred G. Hull, Jr., was one of three National Division Managers for Metro Goldwin Mayer Motion Pictures (MGM, Inc.). He had a glamorous job and always came home with captivating stories about the movies and the famous actors and actresses, making childhood magical.
Daddy told wonderful stories: watching Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire dance at the MGM studios; attending the world premier of Gone With the Wind in Atlanta, Georgia in the 1930s with Clark Gable and Vivian Leigh; seeing Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz on the set. Daddy watched the Doris Day film Please, Don’t Eat the Daisies. I was on the set when Robert Vaughn and David McCallum filmed the television series, The Man from U.N.C.L.E. I’ll never forget the night Daddy brought me home an autographed picture of Elvis Presley.
I have forever admired my father. I still look up to him in so many ways. I am very much like my dad, even though I am not his biological daughter. In fact, I even look like my parents. I am small framed like Mom and have my dad’s big blue eyes and extroverted personality. Many times growing up, strangers would comment on how much “you look like your dad.” Ha! Daddy and I would glance at one another and share a silent snicker, never confessing the truth. We loved our little secret!
I was always a very holistic person. It was just my nature. As a little girl, I’d never tell my mom if I had a sore throat or if I wasn’t feeling well until my fever gave me away. Then, I’d still resist any medications she made me take. I’ve always believed that the body is capable of healing itself if given the right tools. Tools such as plenty of water, vitamin-C-rich fruits and juices, rest, and time.
I never had a weight problem, either. Enjoying abundant good health, I had no headaches, allergies, monthly cramping, PMS, or any serious illnesses or problems. In fact, other than the measles, I didn’t even have routine childhood diseases.
I assumed I’d get married one day and have one or two children. But it was a pipe dream far in the future.
Yet the future has a way of descending upon us before we know it. I married a man from Iowa who I met on a blind date. A girlfriend talked me into flying to Des Moines with her. She was dating Chuck’s brother. Chuck wound up moving to Texas to marry me. A tall, good-looking man, Chuck always wanted to live in Texas, primarily to escape the cold Iowa winters. Exercising his solid Mid-Western work ethic, Chuck started a very successful paint contracting business in Dallas after he graduated college. He had a good business, and I was fortunate to have been able to stay at home with my children while they were toddlers.