My Most Embarassing Migraine Moment
I’d made a new discovery this evening. It was impossible to vomit quietly. Hunched over the toilet in the small public bathroom, I tried to keep my barfing discreet. This was not happening. What would all these restroom goers think? After they wondered what dishes I’d eaten (and then hoped they’d avoided them), I'm guessing they didn’t think, “She must have a migraine.”
Feeling the twinges of migraine
I’d felt my migraine coming on maybe two hours earlier. When I knew my head was totally serious about producing some next-level pain, I took my relief medicine. I trusted it would work. Turns out, that trust would be my undoing.
It was only a matter of time
My family and I were meeting friends we hadn’t seen in several years for dinner. I figured my (mostly) reliable meds would work. Even if they didn’t, I knew I’d have a little window before my migraine became full-blown. Over the years, my migraines had been fairly consistent in their design—taking an hour or so to ramp up to their full pain level. This is why I assumed I’d have some time to say “hi” before turning into an immobile blob.
A speedy onset
This migraine did not wait. She entered my head as eager as a tween going into a Jo Jo Siwa concert. I waved hello to my friends in the lobby of the restaurant and then my migraine waved to my brain and took over the dinner.
We walked to our table and sat down. I apologized, explained my migraine had come on too fast and curled up in my chair in the middle of the restaurant. I was in-and-out of sleep for the next 30 minutes.
Embarrassment and vomiting
“I’m so sorry,” I said waking up with a start and sprinting to the bathroom.
That’s when I learned that puking is a noisy affair.
My embarrassment had come up with my lunch. I wondered how long I could hide out in this stall, but I figured that would call even more attention to my predicament. I so didn’t want to walk back to the table to face my friends. I'd already checked out of our dinner pretending it was more of a slumber party. I'm pretty sure they guessed why I'd run off the barf-room, oh, I'm sorry...bathroom so quickly.
An invisible disease turned visible
Sometimes I feel like my invisible disease becomes extremely visible. It's like I’m stuck wearing the worst kind of brightly colored fluorescent 1980's jacket. This bold fashion choice certainly warrants questions, stares, and maybe even a giggle but I do wish it was removable. It never is and this was one of those times I wanted to stuff it back into the depths of my closet.
Luckily, my friends were understanding. They told me to go home. I honored their request.
Looking beyond migraine
Vomiting in a public restroom and falling asleep in a restaurant was the most embarrassing migraine moment I’ve experienced thus far. I wouldn’t recommend it. I would suggest, however, having caring friends. They were able to look beyond that brightly colored jacket I’m always wearing and only see me.
My dark room: