The Battle.

As the symptoms began to show themselves, she wanted to go to the hospital.  To take some medication, have some surgery – anything that would alleviate the symptoms or cure her.  But she was tired.  And she knew that there would be no easy way out.

Why don’t diseases strike at a convenient time?  Then again, what would a convenient time be?  When I didn’t have that deadline at work?  When I wasn’t planning to go out with friends?  When I hadn’t planned that precious time with my family?

There’s no reason to think about that now.  Even if there was a “good” time, even if I could choose – but I can’t.  It’s now.  And now always seems like the worst possible time.

I’m still with it enough to call and explain that I won’t be able to make it.  No, I’m so tired.  I’ll email.

They’re trying to be understanding.  “Don’t worry about it!”  They’re right – there will be other days.  Not this day.  But other days.  If . . .

But how can they brush it off like it’s nothing?  It’s a crisis.

I need help.  Who can help?  I can’t see.  I can’t think.

Time goes by.  My body shuts down.  Everybody’s body shuts down over time, as they get old – but I’m not old.  I’m young.  I wish I had a wheelchair.  It’s so hard to walk.

There’s a sound coming from outside.  What is it?  I wish it would stop.  I have to get to bed.  Where was I going?

Pain!  Oh yes, my doctor told me there would be pain.  I wish I could take something to stop it.  Oh yes, he gave me something – it won’t stop the pain, but maybe it will be a little less.

No.  I can’t even take the medication – I’m going to throw up.  Was that the phone?  Turn it off – someone turn it off!

Pain!  So much pain!

When did I go to bed today?  I don’t remember.  I don’t care.  It’s still light.  I must make it.  I can’t, but I must.

I should have undressed.  Who cares?  Pain!  I wish I had undressed.  So uncomfortable.

My mouth is dry.  Pain!  Why can’t I stop thinking about the pain?  Think about something else.  Ok – no – regrets – where I would have been in life if I hadn’t – no – can’t think about that – PAIN – can’t think – what is happening?

Need to go to the bathroom.  No, I can wait.  I can’t get up.  Can’t even reach the light switch.  If only I could turn over.  Wish I had a glass of water.  Would I be able to drink it?

There’s that noise outside again – why now?  Did I fall asleep?  Pain!  I’m going to throw up.  I know it.

I should call the doctor.  But I can’t get to the phone.  What was I supposed to do today?  What day is it?

I must have slept.  Nightmares.  Always in every dream the PAIN.  Sometimes it’s a person, sometimes an animal, or a fire or a bullet wound . . .

It’s morning.  Less pain now.  Maybe I can get up.  I was supposed to work this afternoon.

Wait – how long has it been?  Have I been sick weeks?  Months?  Why has no one called?

No – now I remember.  It was a day and a night.  I’m getting a shower.  Just a day and a night.

How did I handle so much pain?  I didn’t know I could.

I’m showered, dressed.  I’m shaking.  Still in a cold sweat.  I need to eat something.

But I did it.  Somehow.  I can’t stand up.  But I got something to eat.  It’s a great victory.

It will take time to recover.  A few days.  Can I go to work?  Should I call in sick?

So silly.  Anyone who had lived through that would call in sick for a week.  Why wouldn’t I call in sick?  Why wouldn’t I tell all my friends – they will be amazed that I survived!  Why wouldn’t I?

Most people would enjoy complaining about an experience like this for months – chatting about it in the lunch room while their friends listen with amazement and admiration.  Why can’t I?

Because it’s just a migraine.  I thought it was a battle with dragons, I thought I survived a medieval battle against incredible odds.  I thought a sword had struck me in the head and I just barely made it through, by sheer willpower.

But they say it’s just a migraine.  Just a migraine.  One of many.  Nothing to write about or talk about.  Just another one.  Is that what it was?