not quite the perfect storm

I’ve thought about trying to describe my migraines for the longest time, but I’m always afraid that my words won’t do justice to the subtleties of the chemical storms that blow through my mind every couple of weeks.

In some respects, I am lucky, in that I’m only afflicted with migraines every couple of weeks. I’ve known coworkers on daily medication who would otherwise be non-functional six days a week. For my part, there are two “storm seasons”, that occur essentially at the end of weeks 2 and 4 in any given cycle. They last for about two or three days, when I am vulnerable to developing migraines. They usually crop up overnight, so the minute I wake up, I know the kind of day it will be. I can sometimes beat them down with ultra strength Motrin; I’ve tried some prescription medication, but they leave me so out of it I’m no more functional that if I simply had the migraine. But sometimes, after a few successful attempts at delaying the inevitable, a built-up, monster migraine strikes; it’s as though my body needs to “reset” itself somehow.

When they do strike, I am pretty much useless: I suffer from photosensitivity, sensitivity to sound, mild dizziness (more like vertigo, like 5’ 7” is so far off the ground), the traditional single-sided head pain and general miserable-ness. The pain usually resides right behind one eye - not always the same side, but always only one side at a time - and it sits there like a hot coal in my eye socket, radiating crackling lightning across my skull.
Sleeping it off is really the only option, and even then, sleep comes fitfully. I always sleep on my side, but I must remain with the painful side down, otherwise, I can feel the blood flowing down from the hot coal, like lava burning everything in its path. So pressure points and comfort be damned, until my mind finally shuts down to attend to the matter at hand, weathering the storm. It doesn’t usually last more than one day.

That was the situation with the contraceptive pill I was on. Two months ago, my doctor suggested I try a different kind, one that had had positive reviews for girls with these migraine issues. I thought, “Well, why not?” One month and one pack later, I know.

On week 2, I spent an entire weekend dragging myself from the bed to the Lazy-Boy, lost in a fog of discomfort. It wasn’t a migraine per se; the pain felt different, alien. I was sensitive to the light bulbs in the living room, so going outside was out of the question. I listened to the TV more than I watched it, and reading was near impossible. In all, it was a useless weekend. I hoped that while it lasted longer, I could habituate to this new threshold and with the right timing of Motrin, I would gain some functionality and things would work out well. How wrong I was.

Week 4, Friday: Woke up with that lopsided feeling. Knowing I had an important deadline, I took a Motrin and got ready for work. Once there, I realized staring at the computer monitor was increasingly difficult, as was simply keeping my eyes open. I pushed on, putting together the document as best I could. The Motrin was having no effect; again, the pain felt foreign, and I didn’t know what to expect - it was so unlike the familiar migraines that had ruled my life since the age of thirteen. I bummed a couple of extra-strength Tylenol from a co-worker. They just made me nauseous. I figured a little bit of fresh air might set me straight; in my haste to get outside, I took the shortest route, forgetting that that entailed using the stairs next to the cafeteria, where they were busy cooking broccoli and cauliflower. I’m sure that I developed a slight greenish tinge at that point. Nonetheless, I made it outside in one piece, but the fresh air didn’t help that much. I returned to my desk and, alternating between closing my eyes and resting my head on my desk like we used to do in grade school and typing frantically, I finalized the document, forwarded it to the powers that be and called my boyfriend to come pick me up. I was in bed by 12:15 pm, and I tossed and turned for the longest time before crashing into dream-laden sleep. I awoke around 7:00 pm; my head certainly wasn’t cleared, but at least I could keep my eyes open. We had dinner, and I was back in bed by 11:00pm.

At this point, I should remind you that I was at the tail end of a fairly extensive translation project. I had two chapters of draft translation, and the complete review of the document to complete by Monday morning.

The pain crept back in overnight; I was up for five minutes or so on Saturday morning to gobble down more Motrin, then I crashed back under the covers, trying to avoid looking too closely at their stark black and white pattern. In all, I was up by 2:00pm; while the migraine dozed, I worked fitfully on another chapter, typing diligently for two hours or so before I retreated to my pillow once more. I missed dinner on Saturday; I ate a pouch of instant rice while watching “So You Think You Can Dance.” I typed some more and finished my first draft. Then I slept some more, hoping against hope it was over.

No such luck. Again, I completely bypassed the morning, only daring to rise once the sun had peaked on Sunday. This time, the early-morning Motrin seemed to finally get a grip on the storm. When I got up, I felt exhausted, but I could actually string a sentence together. I even showered, washed my hair and stepped out for dinner. With a trusty Tim Hortons’ extra-large double double in hand, I settled down to knock my project out of the park. Finally, the storm subsided, as though I had finally prevailed in a three-day battle of the wills. I worked feverishly throughout the evening and night, returning the project by email a few hours early before returning to bed as the sun crept up.

So now, I start a second pack. Hopefully, next month, I won’t have the same deadline issues. Hopefully, next month, my own body won’t quite feel so alien. Hopefully, next month.

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