Has your face ever felt like someone was pulling the bones from it … slowly, painfully?
Has the back of your head ever felt like an axe was whacking it open with quick hits, reverberating your being?
Have you ever felt like an arrow was being shot through your eyebrow and coming out the back of your head again and again and again?
Have you ever had nausea so bad you can’t stand to breath? Every breath might be the one were you’ll lose the last hold you have on life?
Have you ever had your left arm go numb? You can use it, but there’s only that numb sensation? And, oh, the nausea. You know it’s not a stroke because you’ve had it before, and the doctors tell you not to worry. This too shall pass, it’s “just” a migraine.
Have you ever smelled bacon so strong, and yet there is no bacon near?
Have you ever smelled fresh mown lawn in the dead of winter? You could walk outside and touch it! But no, it’s not there.
Have you ever been so dizzy that the thought of walking sounds no different than spinning out of control on a carnival ride?
Have you ever tried to speak a simple sentence, and it comes out as a jumble? And you cannot bear to repeat it due to the pain of speech?
Has the light ever made your head throb, your eyes burn, and your skull to crack open?
Has speaking even one word seemed like such a painful act that you cannot even try? No matter that you’re at work, and the boss is asking you a question.
Has the sound of a moth’s fluttering wings ever been so loud, you need to cry out in pain from it, but you know that the sound of your own voice will be too much?
Has the smell of toast, which you normally find enticing, been so repulsive, that your throat starts closing from it?
Have you ever turned to look at a friend and felt as though your head was split open by a bowling ball, and the bowling ball was now coming down on it over and over and over again?
Have you ever walked a flight of stairs and found at the top that the left side of your head is filled with crushed skull and the shards are stabbing you ceaselessly?
Have you ever tried to wash your hair and found that you cannot touch your head without horrendous pain shooting through your entire body?
Have you ever dreamed a surgeon is cutting into your head while you walk down the sidewalk, only to wake and know that is just what your head feels like right now?
Have you ever had one-quarter of your head try to explode through the flesh, and since it can’t, the brain is beating and beating and beating on the skull to get out?
Has your head ever been tight, squeezing out your tears, making your nose to run, and your mouth bone dry?
Have you ever bent over to get something out of a drawer and your head feels as though a table saw is running through it? Once you stand back up, you hope the table saw has been turned off, but no, it is still there, rotating ceaselessly through your brain.
Have you ever brushed your teeth and found you are in migraine? The nausea, the dizziness, the pain, the agony means that you’ll be calling in late to work.
These are just some examples of migraines I’ve had over the last 20 plus years.
The blessing is that not every migraine is a 10 (worst) on a scale of 1 to 10. The pain ranges in intensity, as well as the symptoms.
The blessing is that they come and go, with the help of medications and treatments.
The blessing is that not every migraine is the same nor has the same symptoms.
The blessing is that it rotates around the quadrants of my head, letting other quadrants recover.
The blessing is that I have family and friends who love me in spite of this.
The blessing is that I’ve been able to continue to work.
The blessing is that there are doctors out there who understand pain.
The blessing is that I am not alone – many suffer and have compassion (although I wish that no one knew this pain).
The blessing is that people who have not ever had one iota of this pain have compassion.
The blessing is that I know to keep trying, help does come now and again for long-term relief.
The blessing is that God is with me. God did not put this disease on me, but He is here to see me through.
The blessing is that there is hope.
Why post this on Humor Happens? Because although there’s little humor here, there is the joy when it passes. For me, these pass. They come again, but there is relief between.
Moral of the Story: Pain, albeit recurring, has lulls. Count your blessings in the lulls.