Summary

The author, after enduring a persistent headache, visited a neurologist and was diagnosed with a chronic migraine, with the only relief suggested being lifestyle changes that are currently unattainable due to her responsibilities as a parent.

Abstract

The author suffered from a severe headache for seven days, leading to a visit to urgent care and subsequently to a hospital with a neurology department. Despite initial fears of a brain bleed, tests revealed the issue was a chronic migraine. The neurologist recommended lifestyle adjustments such as adequate sleep, hydration, avoiding alcohol, a balanced diet, minimizing noise, and reducing stress to manage the condition. However, the author humorously notes the impracticality of these suggestions given her lively household with young children and the constant chaos that ensues. She resigns herself to waiting until her children are grown before she can realistically expect to be free from migraines.

Opinions

The author initially downplays the seriousness of her condition, attributing the visit to urgent care as a minor detail.
She expresses a sense of humor and resilience despite the challenging circumstances, such as making light of the situation with mom jokes and finding amusement in the absurdity of her predicament.
The author is skeptical of the practicality of the neurologist's advice, given the realities of her life with toddlers and the constant noise and stress they bring.
There is a hint of sarcasm when she refers to the ER as a five-star resort and jokes about the contradiction in avoiding alcohol while needing to stay hydrated.
She acknowledges the unlikelihood of finding relief from her migraines until a significant change in her life circumstances, specifically when her children are older.

Only Seventeen More Years Until My Migraine Is Gone

In roughly 6,205 days, I’ll be good as new

Photo by Emiliano Vittoriosi on Unsplash

After seven days of an excruciating and relentless headache, I decided to go see a neurologist.

Well no, actually I went to urgent care, they noted that my pupils were different sizes, didn’t believe me that this is normal due to all the eye surgeries I’ve had, freaked out, convinced me I had a brain bleed, and forced me to go to an emergency room with a top-notch neurology department.

Minor details.

It took a lot to get to the hospital. Spidey senses tingle on the rare occasion I try to leave the house sans the two toddlers. When their superpowers told them Mom was trying to leave on her own, they activated their sticky little webs and spun them around my ankles, crying desperately for me to stay.

The shrieks really helped soothe my throbbing head.

After prying free from the panic-stricken babes, I had to swear a blood oath to my father-in-law that I would return as soon as the ER visit was over and relieve him of all childcare duties. The look on his face suggested he didn’t entirely believe me but I reminded him that if I did in fact have a brain bleed, he might be left alone with my kids until my husband returns from his work assignment in October anyway.

After that, he catapulted me out the door faster than I could say “dinosaur fruit snacks.”

Veins were poked. A CT scan was done by a very chipper young man who was kind enough to laugh at my mom jokes. He told me not to be nervous and I assured him that sending me into a tube shaped like a donut was more of a fantasy than a nightmare for me.

Two bags of peanut M&Ms, twelve Starbursts, a Diet Coke, three cavities, and eight hours later, I was wheeled back to see the neurologist. I guess the whole brain bleed concern wasn’t very time sensitive.

I asked the transport woman to walk slower as she wheeled me to my fate. I closed my eyes and let the extra chunky barf-filled hospital breeze blow through my apple juice and Cheeto-crusted hair. If I did have a brain bleed, at least I got this last kid-free joyride before things went south.

The neurologist came in as I cozied up on my stretcher, no flailing toddler arms smacking my face or warm dog breath panting in my ear. I had no idea the ER doubled as a five-star resort. I know where I’m going for my next vacation.

“Great news, all your tests came back normal! It appears you are suffering from a chronic migraine. Not to worry, there are things you can do to reduce the pain.”

She proceeded to ask me questions about my lifestyle that may be contributing to my migraine.

“Are you getting at least eight hours of sleep?”

By the end of most weeks, I’d say I’ve slept a cumulative eight hours, yes.

“Are you staying hydrated? It’s important you drink plenty of water.”

I did get a few giant gulps in when my daughter sprayed me with the hose this morning. Plus, she threw her apple juice at me and some of it got in my mouth before the cup hit my head.

“It’s also important you avoid alcohol.”

Way to contradict yourself, doc. How can I drink water if I can’t have White Claws?

“Are you eating a healthy, balanced diet?”

Of course! Wait. Are there cameras in the waiting room?

“You need to eliminate as much noise as possible. Loud noises trigger headaches. Will you be able to do that?”

My oldest is in the process of perfecting her seagull call and some psychopath taught my youngest how to use a train whistle. Shouldn’t be a problem.

“You also need to reduce your stress as much as possible.”

Did you not hear what I just said about the train whistle?

By the time my ER visit was over, it was 3 AM. The neurologist again reminded me to go home and get a good night's sleep. I flipped her the bird through my sweatpants pocket, knowing my daughters would be up in roughly three hours, practicing their seagull calls and train whistle-blowing skills.

Day nine and the migraine is still in full force. It is impossible to do any of the things the neurologist suggested to help calm the angry jackhammer working overtime in my skull. I imagine the only way to get more sleep, avoid loud noises, and reduce my stress is to wait until my kids are adults.

It looks like the countdown begins until my migraine ends. Only seventeen more years until I’m headache free!

Until then, I’m going to close my eyes and pretend I’m on a seagull infested beach next to a train station. Two vacations in one week. How did I get so blessed?