Since I’m working from home today, I was able to sleep in a bit. When Isabella started trying to wake me, I fed her and then went back to bed. I managed to get an extra hour and a half of sleep. Of course, when I finally did get up, she was more than ready for me to join her. I’m never quite sure whether she doesn’t want me to oversleep or if she just wants me in the living room where she is.
She has always preferred being in the same room as me. That doesn’t necessarily mean I can always see her or even know exactly where she is, but she knows I’m nearby, and for her, that seems to be all that matters.
People often say that cats are aloof, that they do their own thing and care about little else. I’ve never found Isabella to be that way. Unless I get home much earlier than usual, she is almost always at the door when I come in. If I’ve been away, she seems like she can’t get enough of me afterward. She is a very faithful companion, and I feel lucky to have her in my life—though I do sometimes question that at 3 a.m. when she decides she needs to be fed.
In this week’s Isabella pic of the week, the image may not be perfectly focused, but it captures something better—a quiet affection in her eyes as she looks at me.
This morning began with a bit of confusion—or at least it felt like confusion in the middle of the night.
At some point I woke up and glanced over at my Amazon Echo. The clock read 11:18 p.m. Isabella was already trying to wake me up, which seemed odd. She usually doesn’t start her morning routine quite that early. I remember thinking, Why on earth is she trying to get me up at 11:18? I just went to bed.
For a moment, I wondered if something was wrong. Years ago, Isabella had a habit of waking me in the middle of the night if my blood sugar dropped too low. It was uncanny how she seemed to know when something wasn’t right. But that hasn’t happened in years, so I mostly dismissed the thought and drifted back to sleep.
A while later, Isabella was back at it—more insistent this time. When I looked at the Echo again, it still said 11:18 p.m. That’s when things started to feel a little strange. Surely that much time hadn’t passed and it was still 11:18.
So I picked up my phone.
4:21 a.m.
Ah.
Apparently time had not, in fact, frozen in my bedroom.
I tapped the screen of the Echo, which took a moment or two to wake up and think about its life choices before finally updating the display to the correct time and date. As best as I can tell, the device had simply frozen overnight and needed a little nudge to catch back up with reality.
Still, it made for a rather confusing moment. There I was thinking Isabella had decided that 11:18 p.m. was now an appropriate time to start the day.
To be fair, she probably knew exactly what time it was all along. Cats run on a very precise internal schedule that revolves around breakfast, attention, and making sure their humans don’t oversleep.
The Echo may have gotten stuck in the past, but Isabella clearly did not.
And judging from how determined she was to wake me, she would like it noted that 4:21 a.m. is already past breakfast time.
Fair warning: today’s post is more medically informative than my usual reflections—it’s still personal, but a bit heavier on the details than you’re accustomed to here, and I suspect this medication may also make me a bit loquacious, as Susan could probably attest after our conversation last night.
It’s not often that I wake up and still feel this sleepy. I have a migraine medication that I rarely take because it can make me drowsy for a couple of days. Most of my other medications work fine, so I tend to avoid the ones that linger like that. I think this morning’s drowsiness is also due to a migraine medication.
At my last appointment at the Headache Clinic, they gave me a new medication to try. It’s one of the newer CGRP medications. I’ve tried several over the years. This one is interesting because it can be used as a rescue drug, though some CGRP medications are used as preventatives.
I take Qulipta daily as a preventative. Ubrelvy, however, is a rescue medication. Most CGRP medications are taken once a month, once every three months, or daily. Ubrelvy isn’t taken that way. It’s meant to be taken at the first sign of a migraine—usually an aura.
Auras look different for everyone, but they’re a signal that a migraine attack is imminent. For me, my auras are small twinkling lights that float in my vision. They aren’t dramatic, and they rarely last more than a few seconds—never more than 30 seconds. I don’t always see an aura before a migraine, but if I do see one, I will get a migraine.
So instead of taking it at the beginning of the headache itself, as with most triptans, Ubrelvy is taken when the aura appears.
Yesterday, I saw an aura and took a dose of Ubrelvy. I never developed the migraine. That alone feels like a victory.
Ubrelvy has three potential—though still somewhat rare—side effects: nausea, sleepiness, and fatigue. Most people experience side effects within 30 minutes to an hour after taking a medication. However, because of my liver issues, medications can take longer to become effective or for side effects to appear. Some medicines, including Ubrelvy, are metabolized in the liver. When liver function is compromised, metabolism can slow down, which can delay both effectiveness and side effects.
That seems to be what happened with this dose.
About three to four hours after seeing the aura and taking the medication, I became very drowsy and fell asleep in the middle of reading a book. It took me a bit to fully wake up, but once I did, I seemed fine. Then last night, the drowsiness hit again. I fell asleep early and slept through the night—even through Isabella’s usual insistence on being fed.
I woke up at 4:00 a.m. when she made her presence known, but I went back to sleep. When I woke again around 4:30, I checked the time and made myself get up, feed her, and put on some coffee.
I’m awake now, but I could very easily lie back down and fall asleep again—even after being up for an hour.
I’m hoping this doesn’t last all day. I’ll drink my coffee, watch the news, and take a shower—all of which should help me wake up more fully. I was out of work Monday with a migraine, off yesterday, and I have an important meeting at 9:00 a.m., so I really need to be at work today. If this drowsiness continues, it may not be a full workday—but hopefully I’ll shake it off and get through.
I’ll likely make a strong cup of tea when I get to work this morning.
For now, though, I’m moving slowly and hoping the fog lifts soon.
To make up for how boring this post may have been, here’s Isabella’s Pic of the Week (with a little bit of me thrown in the mix):
It doesn’t happen often, but every now and then, the words just… stall. Maybe it’s a bit of stress at work. Maybe it’s mental clutter. Maybe it’s simply that there are seasons when nothing feels particularly profound or pressing enough to turn into a post. For someone who writes almost every day, that can feel unsettling.
Writer’s block has a way of whispering, you’ve run out of things to say. But I know that isn’t true. Life is still unfolding. Thoughts are still forming. They’re just quieter this week.
And maybe that’s okay.
Not every week has to be a carefully crafted reflection. Not every day needs a tidy moral or an eloquent conclusion. Sometimes we’re just tired. Sometimes we’re in between ideas. Sometimes we need to sit in the stillness and trust that creativity, like everything else, moves in cycles.
I suspect the words will come back soon. They always do.
In the meantime, I’ll leave you with something that never fails to bring a bit of peace into my life—a few Isabella Pics of the Week. It’s been a while since I’ve shared one, so here you go. 🐾
Sometimes, when the words won’t come, a quiet companion is more than enough.
I got a little distracted this morning watching Starfleet Academy and completely forgot to write a post. It happens.
There’s not much exciting to report today, but I am seeing my new neurologist for the first time. I’ve been waiting nearly three years for the Headache Clinic to hire a new permanent neurologist, so this appointment has been a long time coming. I’m cautiously optimistic—and really hoping this one sticks around.
She seems fresh out of medical school—very Dr. Bashir energy—though I’m realistic enough to know she won’t be nearly as distractingly attractive.
And since I haven’t posted an Isabella Pic of the Week in a while, here’s one for this week. 🐾
Isabella woke me up way too early this morning and simply would not leave me alone. Eventually, I gave in, got up, fed her, and did something I almost never do when she wakes me before my alarm: I laid down on the couch, pulled a blanket over me, and went back to sleep.
I ended up sleeping a little longer than usual, which helped… a bit. I still don’t really want to be awake, but here we are—I have to go to work today. If I didn’t have two meetings I really don’t want to put off, I’d probably call in. Not just because I’m not feeling great, but because the weather is awful, and that almost guarantees a stressful drive in.
Last night, the news said this snow and wintery mix wouldn’t arrive until this evening. They were very explicit that my part of Vermont would be one of the last to see snow. Apparently, though, once the system crossed the mountains, it decided to ignore the forecast entirely and switched abruptly from rain to snow.
So now it’s dark and snowy, but at least it’s Thursday and tomorrow will be a work from home day. Right now, I’m just trying to convince myself that coffee will be enough to get my day started.
Home at last. A delayed flight from Washington, DC had me walking in just before 3 a.m., but now I’m back where I belong—with Isabella, her morning wet food served, and the quiet comfort of home. A gentle Moment of Zen before I crawl back into bed. 😴🐾
My niece gave me a “World’s Best Guncle” coffee mug—quietly, in private, so no one else saw. She didn’t say anything when she handed it to me, but I had the sense that my sister knew exactly what it was. My sister and brother-in-law fully include her partner in everything, so maybe my family is, slowly, getting better. Then again, who knows—since no one actually talks about it.
It was a somber Christmas in other ways. My great-uncle died early Christmas morning. He was 95, the last of my grandmama’s siblings—the last of that generation. I feel deeply for that branch of my family. His first wife, whom I never knew because she died before I was born, passed away two days before Christmas. His second wife died just a week after Christmas. Losing that generation makes the holidays feel different. They were the ones who held everyone together, the glue that kept us gathering year after year. Now, I rarely see those branches of the family anymore. In some ways, I wish I were staying a few extra days, just to be present with everyone who remains.
Mama’s health is also weighing heavily on me. Her dementia continues to worsen. She’s grown more frail, shuffles when she walks, has tremors, and becomes confused easily. There are still good moments—but when I woke her on Christmas Eve, she looked frightened and didn’t recognize me at first. That moment broke my heart in a way I’m not sure I can fully put into words.
I fly out today around 11 a.m. I won’t get into Burlington until close to midnight, which means—after waiting on baggage—I’ll be lucky to be home by 2 a.m. Two long layovers this year. I always try to keep it to one, but it never quite works out. There are no direct flights from Burlington to Montgomery, so travel days are always long days. Maybe one day I’ll marry a very wealthy man who can fly me straight to Montgomery on a private jet—but until then, this is just part of the deal.
What I’m most looking forward to is getting home to Isabella. I know she’s missed me. She’s been moping around the apartment while I’ve been gone, sleeping mostly in my spot on the bed instead of her usual place at the foot. She’s always incredibly chatty when I first get home, so I’m hoping she doesn’t wake the entire apartment complex loudly complaining about my disappearance while simultaneously being ecstatic that I’ve returned. Knowing her, it will be a bit of both.
For now, I’m grateful to have made it through the holidays, grateful for small signs of love and acceptance, and grateful that—after a very long day of travel—I’ll finally be home. Sometimes, that’s more than enough.
Isabella can be a bit of a needy diva at times—lovable, adorable, and absolutely convinced that my entire existence revolves around her schedule. This morning she woke me up just before 5 a.m., demanding breakfast with all the urgency of someone who had not been fed in minutes. I obliged, of course, and then crawled straight back into bed. I was originally supposed to be in the office this morning, but my class got rescheduled, which means a work-from-home day for me.
I fell asleep again almost instantly and drifted into the loveliest dream. In it, I was snuggled up next to a very handsome man—the kind of hot guy who makes your subconscious say, “Yes, let’s stay here.” He was straight in the dream, but we were sharing a bed anyway. Somehow the night had ended with us in nothing but our underwear, my head on his bare chest, his arm around me, the whole moment soft and warm and unexpectedly intimate.
When we woke up like that, dream-me stayed blissfully half asleep until he leaned down, kissed the top of my head, and murmured, “Good morning, lazy bones.” I made one of those half-asleep groans that means, I refuse to move, and he just pulled me closer. We drifted back to sleep like that—sweet, slow, and yes, very arousing. I was rock hard in the dream… and in real life, too. It was that good.
But of course, Isabella does not approve of me going back to bed once she has declared morning officially underway. After her first breakfast, she decided she needed my attention—or, more accurately, a second breakfast. Instead of enjoying more of my dream, I was summoned back to consciousness by a diva cat with very firm beliefs about my responsibilities.
And now? Isabella is curled up in the corner of the living room sound asleep, looking perfectly content, while I’m sitting on the couch writing this post.
Sigh.
Sometimes I wonder who’s actually in charge around here—but I already know the answer.
It’s been a bit of a rough 24 hours. Yesterday started with a migraine and nausea, and the longer I was up, the worse it got. Eventually the vomiting joined the party, and needless to say, I did not work yesterday. Instead, I slept off and on all day with my sweet Isabella curled up beside me. She’s always been good at sensing when I’m not feeling well. Sometimes that means she snuggles close; sometimes she simply stations herself nearby like a little feline guardian. She used to wake me up when my blood sugar dropped too low—thankfully that hasn’t been an issue for quite a while—but she’s still the most empathetic cat I’ve ever known.
I went to bed early last night but woke from a bad dream around 1:30 a.m. I’m not sure I’d call it a nightmare, but it was unpleasant enough to make getting back to sleep difficult. Eventually I drifted off again and slept until 5:15 a.m.—which is quite a bit later than Isabella usually allows. This time, at least, I was having a far more enjoyable dream. Let’s just say it involved meeting two guys at a bar and a rather delightful ménage à trois. Waking up from that was certainly nicer than waking up from yesterday’s misery.
I’m feeling much better today, thankfully. I’ll be at work for my half-day and need to get a few preparations done for the classes coming in next week. Afterward, I have a few errands to run, but I’m hoping it will be a good, calm day.
I hope all of you have a pleasant day as well. May it be migraine-free and maybe even dream-enhanced.
Joe
The Closet Professor 