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all-day migraine

the journal of Michael Werneburg

twenty-seven years and one million words

I'm something of a weather witch. I can't control the weather, mind you, or even predict it. I just get sick from it.

I get migraines, and when the wind switches to the south–east that's when I get the longest-running ones, which I call the "weather" migraines. I typically wake up at 03:30 with a splitting headache and my neck and shoulder muscles all bunched up. I take my medications, knowing that they won't work but hoping against hope. Then I lie down for the long haul. This time it was 16:00 before I was up.

Not much I can add, other than that they come about once a quarter. I can't complain, I was getting about five migraines of varying intensity a week during the final six months of my most recent job. If I must get the damned things, I'm glad that most are far milder—some don't even require that I lie down which is an improvement over the life-long average.

Poor little Kenny doesn't seem to understand, of course. He'll come running in with a toy or a book expecting to play, and when he finds me with my head wrapped in a wet towel he'll give me a whap! in the face to wake me up. "Ha ha, there's a good boy. Run along, now. Daddy loves you, bye-bye".

"Bye-bye Daddy!" he'll happily yell. Only to return in twenty minutes time.