My curse

Migraines. I lost a whole day to one yesterday. For those lucky enough not to have these, it feels like a fish hook has lodged above your eye and a barb wire line is trying to pull it down through the back of your spine. Plus all the nausea, photosensitivity and loss of motor skills. I tend to knock myself out with Mercyndol and sleep it off.

Yesterday’s one wasn’t too bad, but I still was unable to do anything except stay in bed. I got up a couple of times, but after walking into a few door frames and tasting bile at the back of my throat when I tried to eat, I gave up and returned to the sanctuary of my bed. The end result was that I got no writing done, for which I feel horribly guilty. I’m making up for it today with a good long session.

The only good thing about migraines is that in my drug-addled state I fancy I have super powers. I can hear things much better and have eyes like an owl. The downside – if I haven’t taken anything for the pain – is that everything is much too loud and too bright. If houses had the option of a sensory deprivation chamber, I would go for one. Unfortunately I don’t have one at the moment so I have to put up with the cars going past on the main road and the light seeping in behind the curtains in my room. When I’m rich I’ll invest in sensory deprivation chambers called ‘Migraine Resoluter Extraordinaire’ and become even more rich. Maybe the drugs haven’t worn off yet…

The pain, oh the pain!

We had recently moved into our latest rental property and I was feeling domestic. I decided to cook – not a regularity I assure you. Off I trot, picking up all the ingredients and feeling very motivated. I start slicing my vegies first, get them out of the way before I use the knife on the chicken. I move onto the chilli, holding it as the knife sliced through its red centre, spilling juice all over my fingers.

My eye became itchy, and stupid, idiotic, moronic, absolute dullard that I was, I scratched it with chilli juice all over my fingers. If this has not happened to you, I cannot begin to describe the pain that emanated from my eye. It was like the chilli had stuck a knife in my eye and was digging it out as payback.

Bawling my eyes out, I head straight for the backyard, where The Partner was working on his car. Before I got there though, due to a slight issue of blindness, I walked straight into the edge of the door. Now I’m not sure what happened but one second my forehead was colliding with the metal, the next I’m on my hands and knees on the rough concrete outside, blind as a bat with an odd tingling sensation on my forehead.

The Partner rushes over, all concern until I explain through anguished breaths what had happened to me. He burst out laughing and directed me into the shower, where I turned on the cold full blast and stood there, clothes and all, attempting to wash out the bastard acid from hell out of my eye. The pain came in waves, causing me to have episodic mini seizures, but the cold water helped.

Ten minutes later, still blind, the pain becomes small enough that I could leave the shower and I slumped on the couch until I regained my vision. I looked in the mirror, seeing that half of my face was red and blotchy from the chilli of death and on my forehead a lump was already forming, a nice little gash streaked across it. And that was the most pain I’ve ever been.

Please tell me you’ve been in more pain. Actually, I don’t want to know if there is more pain in the world to be experienced than a chilli to the eye and a door to the head.