Very bad migraine day and thankfully these are few and almost far between this time of the year. The only real cure for me is time and sleep; eventually I’ll wake up without it hurting, but until I do, there doesn’t seem to be much respite. I wake up, it hurts, I move and it hurts more, I get up and I’m pretty sure my head is going to explode. So I get back into bed, lie very very still and try to sleep. Sleeping is easy if I’m lucky, which I mostly am. I drift off and dream. I have the same headache in my dreams. My headache dreams always have the same theme – dredged up unhappy memories from the past, imagined fears and worries; I’m always stressed out, dealing with problem after disaster after potential catastrophy all the while my head is pounding and I just want to sleep. The irony doesn’t go amiss.
The cat gets anxious and protests. It really doesn’t help. The personal assistant arrives at nine and I decide to shower. She always starts the day with ‘are you dizzy?’ and I always say ‘not much’. I’m always dizzy when I get up and she always makes such a fuss about it, you’d think that it was a big deal. She talks non-stop even after I ask politely if she doesn’t mind being quiet just this once as it really hurts my head. This prompts a very long monologue on how she gets headaches and she’s been having that feeling that she might get a headache for days and how people just don’t understand that migraines are serious and the visual aura that she gets for a whole fifteen minutes is so incredibly debilitating and how lucky I am that I don’t get those. I want to scream, but that wouldn’t help. I go to that place in my head where it’s quiet and peaceful and solitary and breathe a sigh of relief when she leaves.
I catch up on an audio book that’s been almost forgotten, mostly because I’ve only been listening to the Honorverse when I have a headache and have begun to associate it with being in pain. Books are soothing, books with treecats double so, but it’s never quite soothing enough. I sleep, I dream, I wake up, I think, I imagine and I hope that at some point, even if its just for a few minutes or hours, it’ll get better. Now it’s night and late that’s almost turning into early again and finally, that moment has arrived. As long as I don’t do much, it doesn’t hurt much. It’s okay, for a little while. I can feel the throbbing at the back of my skull that makes it clear that it’s not over, soon it’ll get worse again until I’m curled back into a little ball wishing it was earlier or later, rewinding or fast forwarding to the moments where it was and will be better. It’s a blessing in disguise that pain isn’t constant and stable. It ebbs and flows and even though at its lowest points its still pretty intense, the fact that when it’s at the intolerable point, one can look forward to when it’ll go down just a notch is relief enough. It doesn’t have to go away completely, it just has to get a little better every now and again.