Migraine Mornings

I would rather wake up to the sound of Sandburg's fire alarm at four in the morning than wake up in the morning with a migraine. (Sandburg is the set of residence halls I worked in at Milwaukee). Sandburg's fire alarm is loud and obnoxious. As an RA, when you hear it go off, you don't know if it'll mean sitting in the lounge until you know for sure someone burnt something in the microwave or if you'll be pounding on doors, waking up your 72 residents and trying to convince them to walk down the 26 or 25 flights of stairs to go stand outside. And four in the morning is just one of the worst times to be woken up in the middle of the night.

But I would take this in a heartbeat when faced with the choice of a four AM Sandburg fire alarm and waking up with a migraine.

Waking up with a migraine is more painful that imaginable. Its like having labor pains at the top of your neck that radiate up the back of your head, like fingers snaking their way to your temples, right between your eyes and tensing every teeny muscle along your jaw line and the edge of your face. My nerves stand on edge. I can feel shocks run down my body. They settle in the edges of the back of my shoulders, slide down the back of my arms and bury themselves deep in my elbows, looking for a home. My legs feel like they're moving because I can feel the shocks run up and down up and down up and down each muscle in them. My nerves are on edge. Don't touch me! Or wrap your arms around me and hold me really tight-- don't let go. Give me something soft but nothing else.

It hurts so bad I can hardly move. I hurt so much that it hurts to have my head laying on my pillow. My neck is throbbing and the pain is excruciating if I try to move my head. I can't move but I know if I sit up and try to get comfortable that way, that some of the pain will go away. I try to convince myself to get up to take something to make it more manageable, and myself somewhat functional but it hurts so much I can't move. I manage to get up and take a muscle relaxant and some excedrin migraine. I stumble out to the couch, where its still dark in my living room with the blinds closed. My apartment phone rings and I have no choice but to answer it. I suddenly find myself in the battle of weighing out which is worse: the pain and discomfort of moving or the piercing sound of the phone ringing. Suddenly I find myself praying that the train doesn't go by anytime soon.

I get back to the couch, curl up and pull my softest blanket so that it surrounds me. And I let my mind wonder while I wait for the pain in my neck to dull. When it finally does, I'm dizzy and so nauseous that I can't even enjoy my morning coffee. Since I'm used to coffee every morning, not drinking my usual caffeine may continue the migraine, so I balance feeling sick to my stomach with trying to convince myself to choke down my coffee.

My favorite part of Saturday mornings is royally spoiled.

My neck finally loosens enough for me to feel like I can move around again. I feel like maybe I've gotten it under control and then the pain shoots across my head and I know it's time to use my migraine med before I feel paralyzed for the day. It takes two hours before it fully starts to work. If two hours come and go and it hasn't started helping, I have to take another and pray that in two more hours it will start working.

The med makes me feel out of it and puts my nerves on an even sharper edge. The feeling you get when your foot falls asleep and is all tingly (painfully so) radiates throughout my whole body, centralizing in certain locations-- my neck and into my face, my shoulders, elbows and my knees and everything below them. If it lasts long enough, I'll want to cry at everything-- getting up from the couch, sitting down, trying to eat lunch and the list continues.

These used to last me well over a month at a time. Once I hit a point where I can't take the pain and flaring nerves anymore, and I start to have an emotional melt down, then I know I have to go to the hospital. Three days in a row I'll go in and they'll give me an IV treatment. It'll knock me out and I'll sleep more than I'll be awake. I'll lose most of my short term memory for about a week. I won't remember that we went to grandma and grandpa's. I won't remember the pictures I took, which I knew I took so that I could capture the moments I knew I wouldn't remember happened a few weeks later. You'll call me and tell me all about Christmas, sharing the stories I love to hear and the things you share only just now and again, and when I see you next I'll be upset that I can't remember that you already told me the things I'm asking you about.

In the morning, when I first wake up with a migraine, I'll fear that this will be the path I'm headed down again.

If I'm lucky, I'll kick it within the first twenty four hours. If I'm a little lucky, I'll kick it within three days, all the while worrying about whether or not it will go away or if it'll mean a trip to the hospital. I'll push through the pain, which becomes somewhat manageable when the meds are helping, and my nerves standing on edge. I'll be emotional and hate it cause it takes me a while to realize that the reason I'm upset when I usually wouldn't be is because of the migraine. I'll feel fine for 20 minutes here and there, maybe even a couple hours, only to feel on edge all over again. I'll walk through the world in a haze, annoyed that I can't tap into my passion and positivity readily like I usually can.

But then it'll all come to an end. And, while still fearing that it's not completely gone yet and wondering how I used to do this every day for a whole year, I'll start to feel really good. The desire to strangle anyone who complains about something little while I'm pushing through the migraine will settle down and fall away. And finally I'll feel sooo incredibly amazing because now the pain is gone and my nerves aren't on edge anymore.


Yes, I would much rather wake up to the sound of a Sandburg fire alarm at four in the morning than wake up in the morning with a migraine.
Migraine of mine, please go away so that I don't have to wake up to you again in the morning.