Migraines come with their own set of emotional baggage. When I have a migraine it is closely followed by feelings of guilt that I let someone down by having to call in sick to work or cancel plans. There are feelings of worry that I am going to miss a deadline because I had to call in sick to work, or that friends will view me as unreliable for canceling plans with them. Then there are feelings of anger that my body betrayed me yet again and forced me to call in sick or cancel plans. There is also frustration that the migraines keep screwing up my life. The cherry on top is the sadness that I'm missing out on something fun that I had planned. It's a formula that looks something like this:
Migraine + Guilt + Worry + Anger + Frustration + Sadness = Migraine Hell
I remember one evening in particular about four years ago when I was living alone in Portland, Oregon. I had leased a super cute apartment with floor to ceiling windows on one
entire wall that extended through the living room and into my bedroom. I
moved in during the winter, not giving much thought to the fact that
these windows got the evening sun. By the time summer rolled around, the
afternoon sun heated my apartment every night. There was a tiny air conditioner in
the apartment, but it couldn't keep up with the intense sun...it just
moved the hot air around so I felt like I was living in a convection
oven. The apartment was often 80 to 90 degrees Fahrenheit and it was
absolutely miserable in there. If I have to suffer through those kind of temperatures I think I should be on a sandy beach, working on my tan, being served daiquiris by a cabana boy.
I had been stuck inside my inferno apartment for several days straight because I was sick with a migraine. I'd missed a couple of days of work and was feeling guilty about that. We had an important, upcoming event and there was a lot of preparation I needed to handle. Let's just say that not all bosses are understanding about missing work for chronic migraines, so I was worried that the boss would be angry with me. I was also not looking forward to how much work was piling up for me to deal with when I returned.
Several of my friends had invited me out to First Thursday in the Pearl District in downtown Portland. First Thursday is basically a walk through various galleries in the area to look at different art exhibitions. After that we'd planned to go out for dinner and cocktails.
When Thursday morning rolled around the migraine was unrelenting for the fourth straight day. I called in sick to work. Then I called the chiropractor and she worked me into her mid-morning schedule for a chiropractic adjustment and an acupuncture treatment. I was hoping the treatments would alleviate the pain. The chiropractor was quite worried about my pain level and before I left she gave me her cell number and instructed me to call anytime if the pain intensified.
Around 5:00 p.m. the pain was only getting worse. I had to call my friends and cancel on our First Thursday plans. I was feeling pretty depressed about missing our outing so I laid in bed and cried for a little while. I cried because I was bummed out; because my friends might think I'm a flake for cancelling on them; because I had a Vegas vacation with the boyfriend (now husband) in nine days and I didn't know if I would be better by then; because I hurt; because none of the migraine medication I had on hand seemed to help; because I didn't know if the pain would ever subside; because it was so blasted hot in my apartment; because I hadn't slept well in days; because I was worried about work; because the chiropractic adjustment and acupuncture hadn't helped; and because I was feeling so sick I didn't think I could take care of myself.
I called my parents later that evening. They were, of course, worried and offered to come and help me out. I talked them out of that. I didn't want them to drive four hours to sit in my apartment/oven while I laid in bed feeling like crap. My Mom talked me into at least calling the chiropractor. I had held off on doing that because I felt I was imposing on her calling after hours even though she told me I could. She was really cool about it though and she directed me to go to the emergency room. She told me to get ready and she'd call me back. When she called me back she had located the hospital nearest to me and had called ahead to let them know I would be in soon.
The task of getting semi-presentable for the public was daunting. I'm the kind of girl who never leaves the house without a hefty application of eye make-up. I decided to wear sunglasses to mask my lack of eye make-up, and to help with the sensitivity to light that I was experiencing. I changed out of my pajamas and put on some Adidas track pants and pulled on a sweatshirt. It was too hot for a sweatshirt, but I figured that I didn't have to wear a bra if I wore a sweatshirt and putting on one less garment seemed ideal. My long hair was a crazy mess. I'd washed it when I returned home from the chiropractor, but couldn't brush it because I didn't feel well. To make matters worse, I had laid on it while it was still wet and it had dried with a wicked case of bedhead. Thank goodness I had a cute baseball hat to cover that.
After what felt like an eternity to get ready I then had to tackle three flights of stairs and a drive to the hospital. That feat sounded about as easy as completing a triathlon on a good day, which is saying a lot because I don't even know how to swim. The pain was at its absolute worst when I was standing or sitting, so getting from my apartment to the hospital was difficult. I cried from the pain the entire way. I had to take a few minutes to gather myself in the parking lot of the hospital before I went inside.
After I checked in with the registration clerk in the emergency room I slouched into a chair in the waiting room. There was a young woman sitting there who was throwing up into a barf bag. Although I felt bad for her, it did make me feel a little better about myself...I might not look too great, but at least I wasn't puking in public. Her puking was pretty gross so I attempted to distract myself by text messaging the boyfriend about my $h*tty week. He felt bad for me and offered to come over and take care of me, but I talked him out of it. I don't particularly like people to see me in that kind of pain. Besides, he lived two hours away and would have to take time off of work. It was nice that he offered though.
When I eventually saw the doctor he ordered X-rays on my neck because I was having terrible neck muscle spasms. He eventually sent me home with a prescription for muscle relaxers for my neck and pain medication for the migraine. Thank goodness that the Walgreens pharmacy near my apartment was open 24 hours a day so I could get the prescriptions filled. I returned home around midnight and with medication on board I was finally able to fall asleep and escape the pain. The next day I felt quite a bit better. The medication broke the migraine cycle. The migraine wasn't completely gone, but it certainly wasn't as bad as it had been. I managed to go to work that afternoon. I slowly recovered over the next few days. Thankfully, I was well enough to have fun on vacation, my friends did invite me out again, and my boss was understanding about me missing those few days of work.
That is just one of the many instances when a migraine derailed my life over the past 20 years. It's hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel when you are in the middle of a migraine, but the headache always passes at some point. I would like to think that chronic pain has made me much more appreciative of the little things. Just waking up without migraine pain is a reason for me to celebrate and for that I will be thankful. I guess I can add thankfulness to my migraine emotional baggage.
I'm often left alone with my thoughts. Migraines render me useless and I have to lay down because sitting and standing is far too painful. When I'm stuck laying around I spend time thinking about work, family, friends, things I wish I could be doing, dream vacations, fabulous shoes, and what I would do if I won a huge lottery. After hours, or sometimes days, of laying around waiting for a
migraine to disappear I run out of normal things to think about. It's as if my mind goes into some sort of Twilight Zone (cue Rod Serling and the Twilight Zone music) and I start thinking about ridiculous, unimportant things.
Then I wonder if I were on The Price is Right and made it to the big wheel how would I spin it? Would I be one of those people that reaches up as high as I can, grabs two of the wheel's spindles (one with each hand), then jumps up and throws my entire body weight into the spin? No, I couldn't do that. I hate it when other people do that. The wheel goes around way too many times and the audience gets bored waiting for it to stop spinning. Then, what if the wheel stops at 75 cents? Would I spin again if I were the first contestant? I probably would, even against my better judgement. If I ever made it to the big wheel I'd just hope to be the third contestant because that's the power position. You know what number you have to beat and it takes the guesswork out of your decision for stopping where you're at or going for more spins. I don't have any desire to go on that game show so why am I making a plan for how I would play the game anyway?
