Migraine

I got a migraine the other day. It is a weird, weird experience. In a way, utterly predictable. Two minutes out the door to lunch. Suddenly a patch of neon white in the top left corner of my field of vision. For a minute or two I thought it was just my eyes adapting to the brightness of the day after leaving the gloomy foyer of the building. It didn’t seem to be disappearing, however, and I noticed that it was present evenly across both eyes; visible whether I closed one or the other.

There’s only one thing that results in this kind of vision, and it’s an impending migraine. Even though I haven’t had one in over a year, I know it’s coming, and it will be on me in about a half an hour. It’s so odd, because my head feels fine, and I’m trying to decide whether I should grab some food somewhere first before trying to find some Migraleve. I decide I should get medicated as quickly as possible, and start making my way to the nearest chemist. The symptoms increase all the way there. By the time I reach a small place nearby my peripheral vision has more or less disappeared. I’m staring at the boxes of pills on the shelf and I can’t find what I’m looking for. It’s perfectly possible that it’s there, but since I can’t really see anything outside the 2×2 inch area I’m focused on, scanning the shelf is quite difficult.

I get in line and ask the woman behind the counter. She’s got them there along with the stronger painkillers. I pop two of the pink pills and go to get a bottle of water to wash them down with. Lunch doesn’t seem like an option anymore but I buy a banana along with the water to try and quell the nausea. I walk down to the river and sit on the boardwalk until half two while the headache grows. I think about going home, but figure that if I go back to work now, I can wait out the hour until half three, and then clock out early on my flexitime.

Sitting in my office ten minutes later, and the pain is worsening. I can’t look at the monitor for more than a few seconds. I spend most of my time staring out the window and half typing away; writing this in order to look at least somewhat busy. It’s a quiet afternoon, so nobody questions my behaviour. Nobody is really around. The minutes go by incredibly slowly. I tell myself that if I wasn’t sitting here, I’d just be feeling ill somewhere else. Ride it out. It’s the best option. Sensory deprivation is what you crave during a migraine. Everything is too bright. Everything is too loud. Everything smells too strongly.

At about 3.25 my head slowly starts to clear. I leave at 3.30 anyway. Walking down the river to my train, I begin to experience that soft euphoria that always follows the worst of the migraine. My head still hurts, but I feel vaguely disconnected from everything. Slightly stoned. Relief washes through my body. The day is suddenly warm and sunny, and everything feels rosy. I sleep on the train on the way home. I sleep for fourteen of the next twenty hours.