Anyone who knows me well enough knows that I suffer from chronic migraines.
It’s not something I tell people unless they ask, or I have to. On the outside, I probably look fine (I hope), but every second of every day, I have at least some form of a headache. That’s a common misconception that people don’t understand: A headache is not the same as a migraine, and a migraine isn’t a more intense headache. A migraine has many symptoms, which can and usually does include a headache. Mine always does, and even when I’m not in the middle of a migraine, I still have a headache.
I’ve experienced constant headaches and migraines since before I can remember. It’s hereditary – both my mom and my younger sister have the same problem – and there’s not really a cure for it, just medicine you can take to make it hurt less.
So, my head constantly hurts – it’s annoying and it gets in the way of things – but what do one of my migraines feel like? Well, they’re usually triggered by rainy or hot weather, stress, or lack of sleep. It generally starts with my headache getting worse, so I pop some Aleve or take some Goodies. Then I’ll start to get dizzy and my head will feel really light (while still hurting like h*ll). The pain will continue to build as my vision starts to get blurry; by this point, light and sound starts to make the pain even worse. On the worst days, I’ll start to see spots around the edges of my vision and it’ll even make me nauseous.
These attacks can last anywhere from an hour to a few days, and nothing I take really makes them better when I’m in the middle of it. All I can really do is lay in the dark and make sure to keep myself hydrated while I ride it out.
Of course, these attacks weren’t so bad when I was a kid – can you imagine this happening to a 10-year-old? But as I got older, they got more intense. Things seemed to hit the fan when I came to college – I’m not sure if the extra stress triggered it or if it just got worse as I grew into adulthood, but suddenly my headaches were more intense and my migraines were more frequent.
I was at the start of an attack one day when I decided to skip class and go to the doctor. By the time I got there, my vision was already getting blurry and the fluorescent lights in the office were making me squint to try and minimize the pain. I was speaking so quietly (which it sounded normal to me. Every small noise sounds amplified) that the nurse who checked me in could barely hear me. When the doctor came in, he immediately flicked the lights off and I breathed a probably audible sigh of relief. He spoke in the softest voice so as not to make my pain even worse, so I figured I must not be the first person with this problem he’s worked with. When he left, he told me I could lay there as long as I needed before I was ready to leave.
By the end of it, I was prescribed my medication for my migraines.
It was a beta-blocker called Propranolol (which is very difficult to say to the pharmacist). A beta-blocker is basically something that lowers your blood pressure and blocks the effects of adrenaline. It opens up your veins so that blood can flow more freely and not get all trapped in my head. I’m still taking the same medication, but I’ve been increasing the dosage as my doctor sees fit. It hasn’t gotten rid of the problem, but it makes it easier to bear.
Now you might be wondering why I’m telling you all of this. If you don’t experience migraines, then why would you care? I’m writing this to tell you that migraines are not an “excuse.” There have been more times than I can count that I’ve had to cancel plans or skip class or get someone to fill in for me at work – because I had a migraine and couldn’t even leave my bed because I was in so much pain. People get mad at me for having to cancel plans and I’ve gotten in trouble in class for missing (I’m lucky enough that my boss also has migraines and understands when I have to call out for it). What they don’t understand is that I’m not making up an excuse or using my chronic pain as one. When I’m in the middle of an attack, I often can’t move from bed because I’m in pain, not just in my head but everywhere else too: my stomach, my chest, my eyes, my neck. I know that it’s an inconvenience and I know it gets annoying but trust me when I say that it can’t be more annoying to anyone but me.
Chronic pain itself isn’t an excuse. It’s serious and causing the person pain that they have to walk with every day and pretend that they’re okay, no matter how much it’s hurting them. So please, don’t roll your eyes or scoff when someone says they can’t come because they’re in too much pain, and don’t berate them for “constantly using that excuse.”
My migraine isn’t an excuse.
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