Migraine #FridayFlash


You feel it first, a freight train so distant you can only sense the vibrations.  It’s a quiver in the pit of your stomach, like standing on a floor your eyes tell you is level but your balance says is all out of whack.  You ignore it, thinking it’s only gas from that frozen burrito the night before.

The fluorescent light above your workspace flicks off and hums. The annoying sound makes you think of trapped flies between sheets of glass.  You write a note to the office manager asking if she could get the office handyman to check on it. As the light flickers back to life, you squint hoping that they fix the darn thing soon, it’s too bright.

You snarl as the girl in the next cubicle gets up and walks to the water cooler.  Her footsteps on the carpet seems to echo in the room, even though her feet are bare.  You pulled out the earbuds from your mp3 hours ago, dismayed at the music it tried to torture you with.

Tension builds, your shoulders and neck stiff with dreaded anticipation. Your office chair seems uncomfortable as though someone had been sitting in it the night before.  Nothing seems to be where it should be as you look for the pen you keep next to the phone.  You find it a moment later, on the other side of the receiver wondering why you didn’t see it before.

Only a moment later you realize the reason.  Your vision flutters at the edges as though trying to look at at TV set on a dead station and it spreads like some virulent ooze across a slide.  You open your desk drawer and find your pill bottle empty. Moaning you take a drink of coffee to wash down the last two ibuprofen hoping that is enough to stave off the pain.

It isn’t.

A faint pulse in your temple.  A throbbing through the side of your head.  Hammers pound rusty, bent nails into your skull.  If you had a saw you’d use it, the pain is that bad.

You go home, somehow, the ride a blur from tear-filled eyes.  Striping your confining office clothes off, you crawl into bed, curl into a ball, and curse every breath you have to take.

 

 

Advertisements

7 responses to “Migraine #FridayFlash

  1. I’ve seen what it can do to friends and family. This pretty much hits the nail on the head. In bed, wearing sunglasses in a dark room, with no noise. What a pain in the ass.

    Very good description of a hell of a problem.

    Like

    • Yea PITA is for sure.
      Both me and my boys have them along with most of my family. But no one has the same symptoms/triggers.

      Like

  2. Ugh! That made me sick. I used to get migraines quite frequently and they’re hell. I know most of my triggers, but they still find me. Nice job of describing what’s it like.

    Like

  3. Until six or seven years ago (when I cut the sweetener aspartame out of my diet on the suggestion of a good friend) I had migraines practically every month. I’ve only had one since; but that is a very familiar story. Just one thing that’s different for me- I have never managed to get undressed before collapsing into/onto bed. Last time it was over an hour before I could even take my boots off!
    Very good description, well written.

    Like

  4. oh… I’ve suffered migraines that make that look mild. I have had many times ended up in hospital from them. This is a great description of a typical migraine.

    Unfortunately mostly I have cluster migraines which hit out of nowhere, with no warning signs, like lightning cutting through your brain and they knock you down and steal your breath, lasting anywhere from 30 seconds to 3 days, depending on the headache.

    Stress is my main trigger.. but the florescent lights of work don’t help. I’m on meds for mine now that help, but wow this story sure was something I could relate to!

    Great descriptive!

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s