They don’t happen all that often, but when they do, look out. I feel like the inside of my head wants to burst free. It always starts with my eyes. A little pin prick really. A spot as if I just caught a glimpse of the sun, but it doesn’t go away. It grows. Wherever the spot is in my vision, I can’t see. When I close my eyes, I can still see this spot. This could go on indefinitely unless I take some ibuprofen or the like. Once I get some meds in me, maybe a half an hour to an hour, the vision thingy goes away.
That’s when the pain starts.
My brain tries to flex inside my skull, stressing my temples. Lace in traces of nausea and you have a migraine cocktail. More ibuprofen doesn’t really do anything aside from making me tired. That’s no good while I’m working. So I suffer through. The second I walk through the door at home, I kiss my family and head straight for bed. I get nudged up up once for food and more pills. Sometimes I risk watching a little television, but usually watching TV doesn’t quite work with your eyes shut.
Writing you ask? That takes more concentration than anything else. My head protests at the thought. I might be able to see through the pain enough to get a pen in hand. But with all my strength concentrating on that, I would be too tense to let the creativity flow freely. The best I can do is remember the feeling and use it in a story sometime later when the pain is behind me.
Now it’s the next day and I don’t feel like the two hemispheres of my brain are warring. They might have reached a truce, or they could be laying plans to sneak attack later today. There’s no way of telling. I’m all for the peace. There’s more benefit in that for all.