I took my migraine on vacation.
I had a really fabulous vacation last week. Like, I’m still sad it’s over. I even got teary-eyed as we boarded the rental car company’s shuttle that took us to our gate. That’s how great our trip to Los Angeles was.
In retrospect, it’s somewhat amazing to me that I had such a great trip. Why, you ask? Because I had a migraine FOR AT LEAST FIVE DAYS IN A ROW. Unfortunately for me, I’ve been a major slacker when it comes to updating my migraine calendar (please slap my hand with a ruler for that), so I can’t remember now how many days pre-trip it started. But I can tell you that, for the first few days of vacation, I awoke with a migraine that didn’t go away entirely until the second to last day of our trip.
Miraculously, the migraine did not get too much in the way. I was a little bummed once I figured out this was my usual menstrual-related migraine, cause I’d planned the trip so that my period wouldn’t arrive ‘til I was back in Athens. (Guess whose period, which usually operates like clockwork, arrived mysteriously early the last 2 months?) Jim was as patient as could be despite his wanting to pack in anything and everything into our short trip. And he was especially great the day I felt awful but had to head to his extended family’s Cookout #1. (We ended up going not to one but three amazing Mexican BBQs—it was pretty awesome.) He drove around, killing time while my Imitrex took its sweet time deciding if it was going to kick in or not. He probably would’ve taken me back to where we were staying if the drive weren’t over an hour (in that famous L.A. traffic). I didn’t feel cured by the time we rolled up to the cookout, but I was feeling a lot better. And it was nice to know that Jim was, as always, very understanding—if I were to become sick, all it would take would be one look and we’d be on our way home. There’s great comfort in knowing that an escape is possible; just knowing I can go home if necessary makes me feel at ease.
I’m grateful that this particular series of migraine attacks wasn’t bad enough to merit my staying in bed (or near a toilet, if I may give you too much information), that I could still function pretty well and that I have medications that work the vast majority of the time.
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