Feb 8, 2011

Migraine Headache, the anatomy thereof

I feel as though I am conducting a science experiment on myself.  As if I pulled up a chair and, with pencil and clipboard, my other self began a consultation.

I drove 45 miles in giggling near-hysteria because I was going to Barnes and Noble to just sit and read, for nothing but enjoyment.  As soon as I entered the store, I got that old kaleidoscopic vision in my right eye which signals the onset of a migraine.

I peered closely at the magazines, really?  Is my vision really abnormal?  I peered closely at the sales counter and the parking lot through the foggy windows.  This can't be happening...
 This is my moment!  I drove 45 miles for this.  I took time off work for this.  I giggled, alone, on the drive up in anticipation of my afternoon playing hookey, as if I were skipping school.

Grabbing some magazines, I went to order my coffee.  I held one hand over my right eye like a pirate and squinted at the clerk to see if her appearance was normal with just my left eye, still refusing to believe what I knew to be truth.  My vision was impaired.

With my mocha, I sit at the table and wait.  I watch the signs and feel the onset of the migraine as if I'm a top notch scientist.  The kaleidoscopic vision is really cool if you focus on it, as long as you don't try to do something as sinful as..... read a magazine.  While people stare at me questioningly, I close my left eye, my good eye, and enjoy the colorful lights and shapes whirling about in my right eye. Sip the mocha.  Watch and wait.

I record that within 20 minutes the kaleidoscopic vision is gone, rather quickly this time.  My head doesn't exaclty hurt yet, it feels odd.  Heavy.  My head, as heavy as a cinderblock, balances on my neck, I'm a bobblehead.  I notice the conscious effort of holding my head up.  And the etheral feeling of lightness in the rest of my body, as if I could float, anchored to the Barnes and Noble cafe by a cinderbock head.

With a stopwatch, I dutifully record the time when my head lightens, more like a brick now, and the pain starts right smack in the middle of my forehead.  Very centralized, I can touch the exact location of pain.  As if someone is poking me in the forehead with the end of a cane.  Pushing.  I'm against a brick wall, I can't back up, yet the cane keeps pushing.

I know I should reach over and take my prescription migraine pill, the magic pill about the size of a whole almond.   But, like a scientist, I am too busy observing, recording.  People browsing books, picking up  Fort Mose or Rosa in honor of black history month, setting them back down again.  Sipping frapps and decaffs and latte da's.  Unaware of the scientific laboratory in which they are ensconsed.

The cane eases off.

I breathe.

My eyes sting.  I blink.  Customer service is spinning, tipping, tilting.   I take time to be me again, not the scientist, and I am mad.  Mad that this was my time, my free time, my giggly enjoy-the-moment time to read crazy magazines.  I was supposed to find out all about Captain Jack's all-new crew for Pirates 4. (fondly remembering Pirates of the Caribbean 3 in which John, Marj and I went to the very first midnight showing!)  I was supposed to read about Green Lantern and Captain America so I could converse intelligently with Robby H. and Jimmy S.

I'm mad.  My time was swallowed up, mockingly so, by an alien-like invasion of my brain.  Off!  Off with my head!


I breathe.

Not the time to get all riled up.

I wait.  And with my last sip of mocha, I take the pill.  Disappointed because I really want to see how this plays out.   I'd really like to document the whole migraine thing, step by step, all the way to its end.  But I would need help with that.  I could not endure the migraine and keep documenting and recording it all.  Any volunteers for the next time?


Fern said...

You really need to try a chiropractor, it has really helped with my migraines!!!!

Mom said...

Hate it when a fun day gets spoiled!

Poof said...

OkayOkayOkayOkay. I'll go to a chiropractor. Tom has been telling me the same thing. I loved it before when I went to one, but haven't wanted to spend the money.