Brad is the best.

I realize this is the second post about Brad in the past week, so if you want, you can retitle this as "On how Erin is a Drama Queen when she has a migraine and the manner in which Brad copes." That was just too long to type in the title box.

This has been a bummer of a week for me in the "head health" department (try not to confuse that with "mental health"...I really am just talking about my head). I'm not sure what's going on atmospherically in Jackson, but it's cruel and mean. On Monday, I woke up with a severe sinus headache. I'm fairly certain that I told Brad it felt like I had an axe in the top of my head. I may or may not have actually interrupted his morning quiet time to inform him of that fact and whimper a little. He was great. I dramatically sprawled on the floor while he brought me a glass of tea and talked with me until the caffeine (and sinus meds) kicked in. I was telling him about my crazy, ridiculous dreams, and he asked intelligent questions about them in a way that indicated "I don't think you're crazy or weird. I value you and your nutty dreams." He's a good guy.

Skip ahead two days. Tuesday was a very busy day. We both went right from one activity to another: work, zumba (me)/running (him), dinner in one swallow, Iranian friends came to our house for an English lesson, and as soon as they left, we headed over to Ben's and Janie's for dessert. By the time we got home after 10:00, I realized that I'd started getting the beginnings of a migraine while sitting at Ben/Janie's kitchen table. It was really dull, but I knew it could become pretty serious if I didn't go ahead and take my medicine.

I didn't take my medicine right away.

It got really bad around the Boswell house. I took my medicine, but at 1:00 I woke up with a full-on migraine. I started fumbling around for more medicine and my cherry pit bag, which woke Brad up. He very sweetly got my medicine for me and heated up my cherry pit bag. We both dozed off until 4:00 (who am I kidding, though? I didn't sleep) when everything got really bad. My head had been so bad for too long, and I just decompensated. Crying/sobbing/rolling around on my pillow like a crazy person/whining about the pain. Took more medication (I know this makes me sound like an addict, but I did call my M.D. dad and check to make sure I wasn't concocting something that would cause me to combust). Brad heated my cherry pit bag two more times, fetched my medicine, brought me tea and crackers for the nausea and just let me cry it out (which, by the way, makes it much worse. I just couldn't help it at that point. I'm sure there have to be fellow migraine-sufferers who know that feeling of desperation and panic...right??). All in all, it was a bad night. I'm not sure how much sleep each of us averaged, but it wasn't a whole lot.

Getting to and staying at work (after waking up and feeling like I'd been hit with an elephant tranquilizer) was a challenge. I was SO tempted to curl up on the floor behind my desk between appointments (I didn't). I did skip chapel and go take a nap in my sister's dorm room, though. And then, Brad did the very best thing.

WARNING: Peggy in Seattle, don't read the following. You'll regret it. I'm looking out for your best interests.

Even though we're on a budget and had no more "eating out" money left in August, he brought me Chick-Fil-A for lunch. With sweet potato fries and a big sweet tea. After I kept him up all night and cried all over him and complained a LOT.

I felt very fuzzy feelings toward Brad. He's the best.