It started like any other headache, waking me up with a hint of a sore neck. At first I thought it was merely painful because I had been joined at the midpoint of my slumber by the ever-stretchy Tara, a four year old who can take an entire queen size bed for her domain. Alas, it moved into my forehead, spanning the bridge of my nose with its tentacles of discomfort. I fought back with the wondrous neti pot and was lulled into complacency by the slight disentanglement of one tentacle.
By lunch I was ready to chew my own limbs from their sockets like so much sinewy jerky. I met a friend for lunch and was pleasantly surprised in the middle of inhaling my salad that I only had the sensitive aura left of my headache left clinging to my left temple.
This ended up being a dastardly trick, and I am shamed to admit I fell for it like a dot com stock. By this afternoon I was driving into the sun and my eyes were glazed with pinpoints of fire. I drove Chloe to her school chorus concert and resolved to brave the storm within my brain. Afterwards I went to an Al-Anon meeting and was able to focus on the meeting - and welcome a newcomer - without falling out of my chair.
Home now. Each beam of light and each sound is piercing my being like nettles or swords. And I am in bed with a brain buzzing that will not let me sleep.
I read somewhere that migraineurs (i.e., people who have migraines) are more likely to commit suicide. This does not surprise me. Chronic pain does make one look for a way out. I've also read that we have a higher rate of depression. I'll buy that.
So I am going to stop with the computer tonight, and sleep. If my mind will let me. And wake up again, for tomorrow is another day.