Four hours from now we're having a 4th birthday party for the little man.

One hour ago I woke up with a head splitting migraine.

Took -triptan nasal spray. Waited.

The migraine hasn't gone away, but instead simply relocated to the opposite hemisphere of my head.

In half an hour BF wakes up. Not only is he going to be frustrated that I have a migraine, but he's expecting me to frost a birthday cake-bullet train (per the lm's request).

It's not happening. He can figure it out for himself or he can draw a damn train on a sheet cake and watch as the kid is just as happy with a cake of the non-contoured variety.

Don't know what I'm going to do about this party. Being one big medical mistake while also trying to be a parent, even a part-time parent, is so fucking disappointing all-around.

I want to be there. LM wants me to be there. BF definitely wants me to be there. But on the same note, I don't want to spend the party on the floor of a public restroom vomiting and wishing that I could just pass out already, which is precisely what a sunny day, movement, children, a playground, and a migraine turns into.

This is bullshit. I'm sick of it. I really wish I could just put all socializing on hold until after the transplant. There's a line from the movie "The Beach" that has been replaying itself over and over in my head for the last few days. Leonardo DiCaprio's character says something (which for some reason google is being zero assistance in finding the exact wording to) about how

When you're the victim of a shark attack the important thing is to get sick and die or get better. It's the hanging around that really pisses people off

It really does piss people off.

Hell, it pisses me off.

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