Crazy Bus Lady

I was diagnosed with migraines 9 years ago. I am usually good at hiding the pain in public but not on Tuesday. I took the bus home after the pharmacist was unable to refill my Sumatriptan. Pain was rated at 8/9. I walked like a drunk turtle, peering out my one good eye, towards the bus stop. Fighting nausea, I try to walk near the grass, discreetly heaving every 5 steps. There is a sharp throbbing pain under my jaw, so I find moving my mouth helps. So I’m yakking on invisible gum. Probing my face and neck, trying to discover the pressure point that will relieve this pulsating pain. I look crazy walking to the bus. I looked crazier on the air-conditioned bus when the pain and exhaustion became too much. Cold air is my kryptonite.

I spent the 30-minute ride home, huddled under my sweater, crying and praying and making audible sarcastic comments to myself. Needless to say, I will not be taking that bus ever again. And I will never trust the automated pharmacy refill line again.

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