Yesterday I had a migraine. I have only had a handful in my life, and I’ve been able to sleep them all off in less than eight hours, so I know amongst migraine sufferers, my burden is light. I still hate migraines.
It starts with nausea. I have a particularly weak stomach, so migraines aren’t the first thing I think of when I get nauseous, but it’s never a great sign.
Then the headache starts. I take something over-the-counter. It doesn’t help. Sounds become amplified, piercing. The distant whistle of the train becomes a dart, the chime of the car door ajar, a knife, the dog next door, a bullet. The cascading pings of the shower against the glazed metal of our tub make me wonder if tile is quieter, or those prefabricated tub/shower units. I consider scrapping our beloved clawfoot.
Lights induce pain so great I wince. I need immediate darkness and quiet. I get angry at my family for sharing this house. I hate to hear Kate giggle. I resent the new words of Lexi that I delighted in, was so proud of, just hours before. Then the house empties. At last, silence. Sleep comes slowly. I will wake up new.
