Superstitions

I refuse to bring something up if I don't want it to happen. For example, its Friday afternoon at 4:45 and so far, no traffic. Amazing. Wonderful. An anomaly. A conversation piece for everyone in the car. However, I refuse to bring it up. Because the moment I say it, I know it: gridlock.

On pain
My first migraine was some time during my junior year of college. I woke up with what doctors note on their charts as the "WHE" (worst headache ever). I immediately started puking, crying, I thought I was dying. My roommates rushed me to the hospital and I was drugged up, tested, labeled "migraine" and sent off with some extra strength acetaminophen in my pocket.

2 years later at my first job in the big city I see white flashing lines. My vision is obscured. My heart stops. What do you do when something is happening to your body you can't control, can't explain, can't name? 20 minutes later I am hit again with the worst headache ever. I am back in the hospital. I have another label. Migraine auras.

1 year later the flashing lines return. Before I remember what is coming after it comes. It is too late for my expired special acetominophen. I am destined to 8 hours of pain.

When I see my first neurologist I am overcome with hope. A neurologist sounds like the smartest doctor there is. He can help me. Little orange pills are placed in my palms. "You are lucky you get the aura. It is a warning before the pain. Take the pills and there will be no pain."

It has been 5 years. Hundreds of auras. Hundreds of migraines. Days of my life have become blank spots of pain spent in dark silent rooms. Other pain free days have been lost to hours of panic wondering "when will the next one come." Bottles and bottles of pills have passed through my body in order to prevent and abort "the migraine."

Why me?



Now, On healing.
I am in control now. The medications and me. And one day, just me. I dont know how many days it has been without a migraine and I won't count because... well you know. But it has been many. I itch to share my story as one of hope and healing but I am too haunted by the pain and the possibility of its return.