Allow me to explain a large chunk of my absence:
A twenty-day migraine.
No kidding, that’s some serious bullshit right there. I’m going to be honest with you — I know that on any given night that I drink, there’s about a twenty-five percent chance that I’ll wake up the next day with a hangover. I might be proud of that, except there is then a ninety-five percent likelihood that the hangover will translate into a migraine within hours of regaining consciousness. If I were a math expert, I might think that translates into a ten hundred percent probability that I shouldn’t drink.
Fortunately, I did English in University and have a latent desire to be a writer; alcoholism and suffering are part and parcel with my greatest passions. I accept my burden with the appropriate, vocal whining and move on. I have my migraines timed down to the hour and the minute, I moan through them every single time, and it is generally accepted that I’m The Man on Saturday night and a bitch on Sunday morning.
All of this to say that when I woke up on January 1st with a throbbing headache, and when by noon it had slid down to that familiar spot on the back of my skull that made me regret my excesses, I wasn’t surprised. And even the next day, when it hadn’t broken, I didn’t quite feel shocked — sometimes these things hang around for four or five days, when I’ve pushed my luck.
On day seven, though, wow. Waking up every morning with that kind of gross, nauseating discomfort? Having it intensify the more still you are, rather than the more active? The only solution being intense exercise? Nearly barfing in my own lap after driving the car for twenty minutes? Not in the slightest bit cool.
On day fourteen, c’mon. Seriously. I was uncomfortable enough that I could actually measure levels of pain; I was whining enough that I probably set off car alarms all over the place. I am surprised that I did not end up single, murdered, or possibly ground up into cattle feed. That’s how annoying I was, it was simply appalling.
On day twenty, well. I was at a doctor, that should tell you how desperate I got. I only call doctors when things are broken, torn, hanging from me when they shouldn’t be, or throbbing in places where throbbing is an unhealthy response to stimuli. My doctor is a hilariously thorough Czech woman with a penchant for extremely direct speech, to the extent that even passing comments are enough to inspire panic:
Me: …and the funny thing is, that the only time the pain really goes away is when my heartrate is up — exercise, sex, y’know, that sort of thing.
Her: Ahhhh, that’s very good. (Zat ees vurry goot.) It’s a symptom of migraine for pain to increase on activity (It ees a simptom of migrrrraine for painz to increeeeze on ackteevity), but also intra-cranial bleeding (but altzo intrrrra crrrrranial bleedzing)!
Me: …!
Her: But this means that’s probably not an issue. (But zis meanz that eez probibly no izzue.) Let’s schedule an MRI. (Letz sckecdule unt EMM ARRR EYE.)
Me: …!!!!
I wish this was the only example, but imagine this during those happy STD tests that people have to do sometimes:
Her: …so, have you ever had this test before (Unt zo, haff you effer had zis test beforrre)? The thing is, I’ve heard it’s uncomfortable (Ja, I haff heard it is… unkomfortible)! [produces unt Q-Tip]
Me: …!
Her: So, my advice to you is… zink of happier zings.
Anyway, the good news is that I was prescribed Imitrex to treat the migraines (”zo eet iz no painkillerrr, and reeeally you zhouldn’t be takeenk more zan vun a veek“). I ended up having to take four, but you know, that’s cool by me. Afterwards I learned from helpful people of drugs unavailable in my persnickety country, which have helped me to ease my apparently irrelevant usage of drugs that are available in my persnickety country and do nothing in the face of pain.
It’s also helped me to appreciate what other, more severe migraine sufferers endure, and remind me what I’m like when I have absolutely no sense of humor.
Indeed, in support of that very last point, my resolve was entirely galvanized to purchase my weird-looking, entirely awesome new Cornish Rex:
And honestly, if that face can’t make me smile, I have bigger problems than head pain.
Comments (3)
OK, so I was having a migraine issue similar to yours. And I’m in the drugstore reading the “active ingredients” of the Excedrin Migraine, and they appear to be the exact same active ingredients as regular old Excedrin Extra Strength. Except in a different colored box and for $1.50 more. !!!!!!! All that is to say — can you get Excedrin at all? Because if so, the regular old “Extra Strength” variety would appear to do the trick, unless there’s something more soothing about the purple box. Freaking marketing hoodoo.
I’ve had migraines since I was about ten, so I honestly, truly feel your pain. After getting one so bad that I ended up hospitalized, I decided to try out a food allergy diet. I’ve given up nuts and gluten (found in wheat) and, I’m serious, my headaches have decreased 90 percent. It isn’t as hard as you think to give stuff up and you might have to experiment with what foods are bad for you.
Sheet, I have only had a migraine last more than a week once, and never again please. I feel your pain. In my case I usually get around 2 or 3 one day’ers a month, but looks to be improving for the same reason as Shelley mentioned. I have cut right down on my soda and gluten intake. If I want some crisps maize ones taste as good and don’t come with pain. It may also have something to do with the complete lack of alcohol, which thanks to anti-inflammatory’s I cannot touch
A food diary is very necessary, albeit a pain in the a$$ to figure out what kills you
Good luck