Tuesday, February 08, 2005


Killer migraines run in my family. Both Mom and Grandma get them, and in both cases, they are often triggered by chocolate or red wine. That just figures, doesn't it? It's not enough that we can't gorge ourselves on it because we'll just pork up, but now we have to worry about our heads cracking open if we consume them?

I remember as a child when they would get one, our house became like a funeral home. We had to whisper. We couldn't watch TV or walk around too much. Mom or Grandma would take refuge in a back room of the house and convert it into a dungeon -- close the drapes, lay down, cover their eyes with a wet washcloth and wait for some sort of relief. It was hours and hours of immense pain, throwing up, trying to sleep.

I've yet to get my first migraine. I'm not anxious for it, really, but I would like to get it over with. They both started getting theirs in their 30s (after having children, so insert the very obvious joke here, funny guy). Now that I'm around the Age of Doom, every headache is suspect, like the one I've had for about three days now. As I feel one coming on, I wonder, is this the one? Is this the headache that is going to hurt so bad that I will probably wish I had just died instead? There are new drugs now, and I don't think Mom or Grandma have to deal with the pain they did 15 years ago, but I'm not looking forward to getting even a sample of the pain they went through.

Eh. While I'm waiting, I think I'll pop on over to See's and order some truffles. My days are numbered!