To be honest, it's not really January's fault, and, after decades, I should be expecting this by now. But, really. Can't an old girl hope?
Shortly after 3:00 a.m. I am awakened by what I hope is a migraine. I say, "I hope," because the three alternatives are much worse. The first alternative is an aneurysm. The second alternative is a stroke. Unfortunately, I do know exactly what it is because I suffer them starting in mid-January every year. Every. Damn. Year. Ever since I was a little kid and for so long that I cannot even remember when they started ... every damn year. The third alternative: Cluster Headaches.
When I first wake up, I fear that maybe I have the flu. I feel a little hinky and am slightly agitated. When my mind fully focuses, I am suddenly and keenly aware of a hot spike being jammed through my right eyeball. Unfortunately, my only bathroom is downstairs and far away from my bedroom, so I stumble down the stairs, holding onto the railing but still suffering from enough vertigo to make me walk slightly sideways.
The conundrum: Do I take medication and risk puking it right back up, or do I attempt to go back to bed and sleep on my left side hoping for a miracle? My eyeball begs for the medication; my stomach warns me against it.
I shut off the bathroom light and trudge back to bed.
I honestly don't believe that I will fall asleep again, but I do. On top of having severe pain, I am exhausted, and the exhaustion mercifully trumps the eye pain. I sleep about four hours, get up, feel sick still but can almost function. I add a few pillows to the bed, prop myself up, and attempt to doze off again in a sitting position. Thank the Headache Gods, I sleep another ninety minutes.
When I drag myself out of bed to start my day, I feel like I've been through three intense rounds at a Golden Gloves tournament. My body aches from toenail to hair follicles. My eye pain has dissipated to a normal headache dull throb, and my ear feels like it has an infection, which I know it doesn't because I never feel any pain when I do have an ear infection. I know that this is the way the cluster headache attempts to exit my skull like some kind of nerve-worm.
I have things to do today and errands to run. Thankfully, it is a no-school day or else I'd be on the absentee roster. I'm trying to rally, but anyone who suffers cluster headaches understands that this may not be a bright idea; the cold January air might make my head clearer or might bring that clusterfucker right back with brand new strength. It's another conundrum.
I have migraines and I have cluster headaches. Depending on where I am and what I'm doing, neither kind is better nor worse than the other. The only advantage, and I do mean ONLY, is that a migraine usually goes away and is a one-time event ... until the next one. Cluster headaches are exactly that: They happen in clusters. I'll get another one and another one and another one, sometimes several in a day or a week or a month. For some odd reason, perhaps barometrically, they seem most prevalent in January.
So, damn you, January, you clusterfuck. One of these years, I might escape your clutches, but, judging on my amazing consistently, I'll probably be dead by then.
