Nearing the end of my five mile walk through the green humid woods of Tallahassee, I noticed something on my sunglasses slightly obscuring my vision. I took them off and wiped them on my sweat-soaked t-shirt. Joe and I kept walking, the gang of children including my son running ahead of us appeared and disappeared among the trees, like woodland creatures. I had swum an hour that morning with another friend, done a respectable amount of editing, had my four-month teeth cleaning, and couldn’t refuse a long walk with my friend in my barefoot shoes. My t-shirt must have left a streak of sweat on my sunglasses, I thought, and I took them off an wiped them again. We kept walking. Five miles is a long distance, and after a swim and a dental visit, it can seem endless. Just as I said despairingly to Joe, “is this ever going to end?” we saw the park entrance at the end of the final stretch. I wiped my glasses one more time, without success. The right side was a blur. We herded the kids into the car, and as I began to drive, I realized that I had not just a blur, but no sight at all in my right eye. All I could see was a spiky neon sign in purples and blues on the periphery of my vision, and when I turned to take a better look, I couldn’t catch it, like some memory you can’t quite grasp. It was bright and clear as long as I didn’t try to look at it directly. It was very beautiful. It always is. I always wish it would last longer. It is my own private, tiny, exquisite hallucination.
I have experienced too few migraines to recognize the early signs, but too many to not fear the pain. I drove carefully home with my one good eye (and my hands on the wheel and my foot on the gas), and took two Excedrin immediately. I was sweaty and tired and thought a long hot shower would help. There is a moment between the aura – the blindness and light displays – and the onset of the pain – that is one of the calmest feelings I have ever felt. It is a moment of hope, that the pain will not come, a moment of knowing the near future – that the pain will come, and the sense of inevitability, and the beauty and simplicity of that is almost overwhelming. I stood in the shower until it passed, and until the pain started. After that, all you can do, as all migraine havers know, is to lie in a cold dark place and wait for it to leave you.
It does.
Some people experience real euphoria after the pain. I, unfortunately, don’t. I just feel relieved to be back in control, and greatly relieved that the fire burning the left side of my brain has died out completely, leaving nothing but a cool sigh, a complete retreat from the bottom of the abyss.
Until next time.
Tags: aura, excedrin, hallucination, migraine
So nicely written. You have made even the pain and agony beautiful. Hope you are feeling better.
I’ve had migraine like once, and had all the symptoms except the aura… glad you’re better. I was with you the last time you saw the aura and we were at a church or something and you thought you were having a religious experience haha.
what you describe reminds me of the movie El Aura – he talks about how just before his ‘thing’ (I’m trying to avoid any spoilers), he knows it is coming and there is a sense of freedom in not having control over it. remember?
You’re marvellous. I’ve had too many to notice the signs the way you do.