Sunday, February 28, 2010
Migraines are hell on earth.
Unfortunately, it is an overused term. In the same way that someone with a bad cold will go around complaining of suffering from the flu, a headache is often referred to as a migraine. It is not the same thing.
To give you an example, this is how my last couple of days panned out:
Friday AM: Housework, done. PM: Paid work. Think again. I stopped for a break after making the house all sparkly clean. I was feeling fine, but the spots appearing in front of my eyes told me this would not last long. I took the opportunity of being able to see while it lasted: threw down a couple of Panadol tablets (could not find anything stronger) and prepared Abbey's lunch quickly. By this point, I could only see patches of things when I squinted. And the nausea had hit.
That is how suddenly things can change for a migraine sufferer.
I lay down on the couch, with a bewildered Abbey watching me with interest. The headache would be next, and this was accelerated by a smack in the head by a toddler armed with a board book. Thanks Ab.
I closed my eyes and wondered how this one would be. Sometimes my migraines leave quickly, other times I have lost speech, vomited and felt pins and needles down one side. I was a little worried, being home alone with Abbey.
Luckily, this one went quickly. The spots left within about half an hour and the headache barely even registered. But the after-effects of a migraine are just as bad: exhaustion, nausea and the feeling of having been utterly drained of energy. Sleep is the only answer.
That night, I planned on having a good night's sleep and feeling much better by Saturday. However, our neighbours decided to have a get-together, a very noisy one, that night.
I finally fell asleep at around 2am.
Saturday AM: Abbey woke at 6.30am. Steve was at work. I cried. Got up, made her breakfast, lay on the couch and cried. Felt even more sad as she wandered around aimlessly, clearly wanting to play with me. In a stroke of, um, genius, I had written an emotional rant on Facebook during my sleepless night. Mum rang during the morning after seeing it and she came over and played with Abbey until Steve arrived home.
For me, a migraine is usually my body's horrible, nasty way of telling me to stop. Forcing me to take a break from my constant thinking, planning, doing.
I would prefer a little tap on the shoulder from a fairy godmother.
Posted at 9:15 AM