It approaches peripherally, waving slowly from afar alerting me of the impending days ahead. With this unwelcome intrusion to my day I quickly wrap up any details needing attention, otherwise those items will remain unaddressed for the next several, dark days.
I instinctively reach for my med bag, my personal pharmaceutical arsenal, that is with me always to swallow the oval, periwinkle blue pill I pray will arrest this current attack. It became clear to me many years ago I could go nowhere without my pretty little pouch (or my daily travel version) for fear of missing the window of opportunity to sever the head of the beast trying to implode mine. In two hours I’ll down another if the first one doesn’t clear the undulating sea trying to engulf me.
This has been my world since I was ten years old-they weren’t as frequent, as severe, or as debilitating then but with time I’ve learned to cope, or not, with my every day living with migraines. I am constantly aware of what I eat or drink and when. If a big event is on the horizon I stay (farther) away from all my triggers and still I’m not guaranteed a migraine free existence.
I won’t bore you with the details of what I take on a daily basis to arm myself from this painful beast that swims about me, but I will tell you life would be unbearable without it all. I know this because when those migraines do break through, which is about 75% of the time, I am down and out for an average of three days. Over the years I’ve missed many work days, a child’s piano recital, basketball and lacrosse games, school plays, anniversary dinners, celebrations with college roommates…many important events I’ll never recapture.
And when the evil head banging, nauseating boat ride through hell decides to unhitch its anchor from my head and shoulders and eyes and gut, I am left drained and adrift. I have nothing left. For anyone. I am empty.
My response to the daily prompt, Empty.