Memorable Migraines: July 2011's 2-week migraine

When I think about what to include in my “Memorable Migraines” series, I often hearken back to episodes of yore, terrible migraine periods from back in the day.

But for this post I am going to talk about The Vicious Neverending Migraine of July 2011 before I block out all of the horror, pain, and vomit they entailed.

It wasn’t until a Thursday at 6 AM that I started giving up hope on this one. I’d already used up my triptan allotment for the week and the “rescue” meds weren’t rescuing me in the least. I texted the family I was supposed to nanny for to tell them I couldn’t come in. (The day before that I’d babysat and had felt nauseated and slightly headachey with migraine, but I could still function. Thursday was different.)

By the time ten o’clock rolled around, I had gotten so desperate I considered taking a triptan despite the overuse warnings. I’d had a banana and a bunch of water for breakfast but threw those up as soon as I got up to pee for the first time that day. Jim had to work but did his best to take care of me—he went in late and came home early. On Thursday early afternoon he called our primary care doctor to schedule an appointment for me, but she couldn’t see me til 9 AM the following morning.

It felt like an eternity.

At last Friday arrived, and I was feeling a smidge better. A whole hour passed without my getting sick to my stomach, but I took a Zofran for the nausea all the same, knowing that being a passenger in the car would probably aggravate me. We pulled into the parking lot of the doctor’s office and I took about five hundred years to walk from the car to the door, stopping along the way to be sick in the bushes.

They took me back immediately and let me lie down in one of the exam rooms even though the doctor had other patients ahead of me. When the doctor walked in at last, she immediately came over and expressed sympathy—no problem convincing her the migraine was real. At last I confessed with teary eyes, “I threw up in your bushes outside! I’m so sorry!” She laughed and said that was fine—better there than on the carpet in the waiting room!

Hours later, I’d had shots in each buttock (um, OW), including a double-shot of toradol. I started to come out of the fog and was thrilled to hear that I was allowed to have another Imitrex if the migraine came back later that day.

Already it’s so hard to imagine how completely awful that migraine was, how many days it lasted, how everything had to be wiped off my schedule. To be pain-free is such a luxury, and I feel I only appreciate that luxury the day after a migraine passes, when I wake up and realize I am not sick anymore.

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