If you don’t get migraines, consider yourself lucky.
I do, and they suck. It’s a pain like no other, an icepick to the brain. Actually, I wish the icepick would dredge whatever nastiness is in my head out of it so I wouldn’t hurt anymore.
When I have a migraine, the smell of cleaning agents, tobacco smoke, and perfume/cologne shoot a fresh jagged bolt of agony to the left side of my head.
The world is fuzzy and I’m dizzy. My thoughts seem about as focused as a web of cotton candy. I often want to call in sick to work, but tell myself that will make me look weak somehow.
This is day one of the attack. The headache is there, figuring out just how bad-ass it wants to be. Sometimes, it will fade from here, as if Dr. Jekyll is in a room with a pain-o-meter with a giant knob. Slowly, he turns it down and I get better.
Usually, though my attacks are three days long. Tomorrow (Day 2) will probably be the worst.