Tissue & Me

I have a very bad headache. I’m seeing double. I don’t like that.

It’s not a “I need coffee” headache, nor the kind where you drink some water and magically become a functioning adult again.

This is the full production headache. The kind with special effects, sound effects, and an entire sinus orchestra performing behind my face.

My vision is blurred and I literally lean to the side as if I’m on two wheels when I’m walking.

Yes…two wheels.

If you saw me walking, you’d probably think I was trying out for a slow-motion motorcycle scene in an action movie.

I wonder if anyone noticed the little wobble.

That subtle lean where you try to look normal, but your inner ear and sinuses are clearly participating in their own chaotic dance routine.

The sides of my eyes, my eyebrows, and my forehead hurt terribly to the touch.

Why does touching your face suddenly feel like pressing on a bruise that you didn’t even know existed five minutes ago?

I keep taking my glasses off and holding the bridge of my nose like I’m deep in thought… like I’m contemplating the meaning of life… like I’m a philosopher having a breakthrough.

Anyone who walks by me asks if I’m crying.

“Are you okay?”

“You look like you’ve been crying.”

No, no, no, no, no.

I’m not crying.

I’m just suffering.

There is a difference.

Tissue has now officially become a part of my wardrobe.

Not an accessory.

Not a temporary solution.

A full-time lifestyle choice.

I have tissue in my pocket.

Tissue in my bag.

Tissue on my desk.

Tissue in places where I don’t even remember putting tissue.

At this point, I’m basically a walking tissue dispenser.

I might finally have to give in and buy one of those magical headache masks like the IMAK Eye Pillow Pain Relief Mask that promises to calm your sinuses and make you look like you’re napping instead of suffering.

Honestly… if it stops me from walking sideways like a shopping cart with a broken wheel, it’s worth every penny.