It was a full day today and somewhere around 7 pm I realised that I had forgotten to eat. No surprise there; when I work I tend to focus completely on my passengers and, although lunch is supplied for me along with them, I am usually so busy making things run smoothly and doing paperwork, that i don't touch my plate. I often ask the kitchen to wrap it up for me instead, with full intentions of eating it on the bus, but that usually goes by the wayside, too.
Other things I forget to do include using the bathroom. And lest you think that I limit my fluid intake so as to avoid the necessity, well, I don't. I guzzle water like a Saharan camel at an oasis in the middle of a drought. Every so often, I will feel a bladder twinge and mentally make a note to use the facilities. Just as soon as this next tasting has been facilitated. Just as soon as I drive to the next winery. Definitely before I drive back into rush hour city traffic to do dropoffs. What happens is that I program myself to ignore the twinges until my professional duties have been discharged. Then, driving back to the bus depot, I start to feel the signs that I have actually waited for nearly 12 hours and my body is pissed off at me. Usually by the time I get to the yard, I am desperate. I often just abandon the bus right in the front entrance, hazard lights flashing, to dash into the front office where the nearest facilties are. The other big burly bus drivers have learnt to stay out of my way but it's been close run at times.
Today, I realised that I had forgotten to eat when I got up from my boyfriend's bed and was suddenly hit by a blinding headache. A huge stab of pain, light sensitivity and I thought a migraine was happening. Ironically, just the day before I had asked him if I could leave some of my migraine meds at his place but I hadn't brought them over yet. I really, really didn't want a migraine with him because most people are totally turned off by somebody curling up in a little ball and moaning with their hands over their eyes, incohernet of speech and thought, and only pausing to vomit. Imagine that for twelve hours with somebody you were just discovering; the freak out factor is huge.
But it wasn't a migraine and once I realised that I didn't have an aura and that I could still hear properly and wasn't nauseated too much, I spotted it as a cluster headache and triggered by lack of food.
Boyfriend was so caring; he got me a cold drink, pain killers and just held me close, curled up tight next to him,until it had lifted a bit. He offered to drive me home, to call somebody, to go to the chemists. It was much better after half an hour and, honestly, I am really glad it happened like that because we took time just to hold each other close in a nonsexual way, which hasn't been happening too much so far. Not to say it doesn't happen but it's usually as an overture or an interval or an encore, rather than the main event.
He was also wonderful about an attack of freak outs I had heard earlier. It's hard for me to even acknowledge the possibility of sharing potential deep emotion with somebody ever again. What I felt when I lost Ron was that I lost a part of me, too. That was the worst pain I'd ever been through and I don't think that I could live through that again. I've been avoiding situations that would put me in that potential position again and by that, I mean accepting that there might be somebody else out there who I might feel for again.
He's not fucking it up at all; it's entirely me.