A day in my shoes
The room is dark, I open my eyes slightly as I awake from the pain. It’s almost 4 am, and my body feels like a 1000 pounds and my head feels like it’s going to explode. My eyes flutter open a few more times as I gain my strength to get out of bed. I slowly get to the medicine cabinet to take some relief medicine. Every move harder than the next. I start to feel a tingle on my scalp and my forehead getting warmer. I grab the icepack and head back to bed carefully where I pray for relief.
I’m suddenly startled from the desperate sleep I need for the day, it’s the alarm clock. You hit snooze and pray you can get up again. This time, my brain feels as if it’s boiling from the inside out, my head is still beating to its own heartbeat. You hope a cool shower might keep your head from stating a fire. You are slow to get around with all the lights and pain. You put on the most comfortable work clothes you have to make the day slightly better. There’s no time left, you must go, you have to make it to work. Who else is going to pay for the last trip to the ER? You and you alone. So you grab your coat and you head outside.
This is a mistake you think as you head out the door to the bright sun. You instantly cover your face to hide the sun. You get in the car and put your sun glasses on. Take a deep breath and head to work. You drive in silence with your arm trying to cover any remaining sun to your eyes. You get to work and turn on all the lights and it’s almost as bad as being outside. You turn your personal office light off and fake a smile as your co-workers arrive. You think to yourself, “you can do this, you’re already here”. An hour goes by and you check the time, it feels like this day is moving backwards. Customers come in and question your lights being off, “what, you aren’t working today?”. Oh, if they only knew... Another hour goes by, you dread anyone asking how you’re doing. You are never sure if you should lie and tell them good or tell them not really. Do they really want to know how I am?
As the hours go on you stare at the computer screen just wishing you would have stayed home, your head still feels as if it’s boiling from the inside out and pounding to it's own beat. For lunch you take a nap on the branch couch, with the lights off hoping the second dose of relief medicine kicks in. You manage the rest of your day as the urge for crawling under the covers in bed draw near. It started to rain as you walk to your car. There is cloud cover and spotty rain all the way home, but your sensitivity to light keeps your sunglasses on even through the rain.
You arrive home, you stumble into the house and take a sigh of relief. It’s time to let the dogs out and give them dinner. You crawl into your most comfortable sweats and head to bed. The day was long and it took every ounce of energy you had. You crawl under the covers to the darkness and say one last prayer, “please let me wake to a migraine and pain free day!”.
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