Migraines

This morning, I got up as scheduled, spent an hour or so at the gym, and got ready for work. I had showered, put on make-up, ironed my clothes, gotten dressed, packed my lunch, and was literally on my way out the door when the all-too-familiar sensation of wavy lines and spotty vision started. I tried to ignore it for ten or fifteen seconds, but I've had enough experience to know that ignoring it never works. I put my lunch back in the fridge, changed into my pajamas, e-mailed my boss, plopped on the couch, and waited for the headache, sour stomach, and light/noise sensitivity to begin.

Migraines have been a part of my life for so many years that I've just come to accept them as a part of it. I've spent a good deal of energy cursing them, stressing about them, and begging them to go away. My migraines have left me in horrible states. When Dan and I were dating, I remember calling him and just bursting into tears as soon as he answered the phone because I was experiencing such an awful state of pain that I didn't know what else to do. I've slept on the bathroom floor because the bathroom was the only room in the house dark enough, and it saved me trips to throw up. I've scrambled to leave work as soon as vision problems started so I could make the drive home in time, only to throw up as soon as I made it through the front door. My migraines have cost me a Christmas party at Dan's work a couple of years ago, a visit with my father-in-law in February, and countless other events and occasions, not to mention the lovely experience I had of a migraine during a 10-hour ride to Georgia in 2006, complete with throwing up in the car (nice, huh?).

In graduate school, I had the panic-inducing experience of a migraine that not only produced the usual symptoms, but also resulted in numbness of my face, lips, and right arm. Feeling the numbness crawl slowly across my body was one of the scariest things I've ever experienced. I was diagnosed with a complicated migraine and informed that I should not take any migraine medications due to an increased risk of stroke when complicated migraines and meds are combined. It was at that point that I knew there would never be a magic pill to fix my migraines, no hope of an instant cure. Each time a migraine came on, I would be left on my own to tackle the beast.

Today's migraine was a relatively gentle one. I had a bad headache, but it wasn't horrible, and I managed not to throw up, which was a relief since I threw up six times in a matter of hours during my last migraine. I was parked in front of the couch all day until about 4:30, alternately sleeping, dozing, and watching TV.

In the past couple of years, my migraines have generally become less frequent and less severe. My family history seems to indicate that the older I get, the less likely I will be to experience them (it's nice to have something to look forward to as I age). :) I have to admit, though, that there is a little piece of me that is grateful to them. I usually get migraines when I am stressed, when I am not taking good enough care of myself, when I am not sleeping enough or eating right. I think, more than anything else, my migraines are my body's way of demanding me to STOP. Often, when I have a migraine, I can do little more than just be. I can't read, because I can't see well, and I often can't watch TV, because the light and noise are too much. Getting off the couch or out of bed is usually an insurmountable task. I'm forced to just stop and be with myself. That is not something I do often enough.

I can't say that I'm glad to have migraines, because there are many times when they are truly awful. But today, a little part of me was grateful for the opportunity to just be, and to do so guilt-free. When my stomach was ready, I ate a few snacks. I sat with my cats. I slept. I watched "The Price is Right" (which makes me think fondly of my grandparents) and spent most of the afternoon watching "Anne of Avonlea," one of those movies that kind of brings me back to myself. Despite the pain and the sensitive stomach, it was a good day. A day that I couldn't seem to make for myself, so my body made it for me. And, for that, I can't help but give a little bit of thanks.