Last night at 1am, I was head-smashed and viced into a more typical J-migraine, which is to say, excrutiatingly frightening.
Twice during the pain marathon, P wanted to call an ambulance but I protested, remembering the last time I hit the ER for migraines, which was basically just an added layer of hell to the swelling brain cake. And while inside a crash-banging MRI too. After a whole day of tests and waiting, they all showed nada, as per usual.
I violently dragon-puked 6 horrid times last night/this morning and for hours, was reduced to a panting, palpatating mass thanks in part, to my executive decision yesterday to take a second tramadol when the first ran out.
This is bad because the triptans I take for migraines are contra-indicated with tramadol, (risk of seratonin toxicity), so when the head-hammer came down, I couldn't take the migraine meds and had to ride it out with mere icepacks and tears until morning, when the tram was surely outta my system.
I cannot express the sheer joy of being free of that hell at this moment. I'm dopey and weak and my words are jumbly, and this has taken me near two hours to write, but, I'm blissful.
Probably because that level of extreme pain, (nevermind the rapid heartbeat and shaking, etc.), can only mean imminent death to our struggling lizard brains while it's happening.
When it all finally stops, it's almost like cheating death somehow.
Today, P contacted a big migraine center in Paris, as it's high time I had this looked into by the most expert eyes around.
So boom, just didn't want to leave any false hope for the ones still on prednisone, who let me know how encouraging the previous post was.
To add to the bliss of the storm being over, here is a birthday flower-avec-feet photo I photoshopped up yesterday which turned out nice.
The bouquet is from P and it smells wonderful.
The orchid is from a Dutchy friend here in town, whom I enjoyed lunch with yesterday, along with her pleasant pal from Germany.
Hard to believe, but that was my first girly-lunch date here in over three years.
Helluva good start to a new year, I'd say--aside from the brain blowout later--which I'm choosing to not include in my birthday opening ceremonies RAM.
Now, time to enjoy some of the belle day here.