In 1991, writer Gretel Ehrlich was struck by lightning. And I'm not talking metaphorically. She wrote about the experience in her book "A Match to the Heart." Suffice it to say that life after lightning is not for the feeble hearted.
I have never been struck by lightning, but there are days--and this is one of them--in which I know a thing or two about a life out of balance. Koyaanisqatsi, as the Hopi call it.
A migraine is tornadic in nature, both in its focus and in its path of potential devastation. And, like those heavy Spring days in the Midwest, when bulbous storm clouds bubble ever upwards while something sinister emerges on the horizon, my body sends out warning signs hours before the internal meteorologist issues the first warning.
I went to bed last night cloaked in the scent of cloves and other, more exotic spices, my head anointed with Tiger Balm, my first defense against an impending migraine. By 3 a.m., though, I had lost the fight and gave up sleep to embrace a humdinger.
Migraines first wended their way into my life in 1979. I was a senior in high school, cocky, a bit bored, my body riddled with a pesky combination of mononucleosis and sinusitis. This during my final swim season. Truthfully, I never was much of a swimmer. Even less so during that particular season. It was then, in the midst of sore throats and copious snot, that I lost my vascular virginity.
It has been thirty two years since that first, wicked headache left me breathless and nauseous. Thirty two years of wincing at lights and sound, of tiptoeing in the darkness toward the temporary solace of a dark, locked bathroom. Thirty two years of clenching my teeth as the rippling effects of migraine stretch out to stomach and bowels and frayed ends of nerves grown tired.
I am not one to complain, I hope. But there is something to be said for the promise of impending menopause. More than a few seasoned women have told me of the miraculous absence of migraines, come hot flashes and molasses metabolism. I now welcome bulbous belly fat and flush cheeks if it means that I will no longer know the sizzle of a migraine.
Frankly, though, I lack the imagination to picture that new life, so accustomed have I grown to the throb.
Then again, I can't imagine being struck by lightning either.
This description is pitch perfect (I love that Gretel Erlich book, too.)
ReplyDeleteSorry you are enduring another crippling migraine. I have only had a few in my life, but they were terrible. I cannot imagine dealing with them on a regular basis. Menopause has been a non-event for me, and I hope that for you, it does bring an end to migraines and is easy-peasey to boot.