I have broken my arm…and elbow. I’ve sprained ankles. I’ve broken and dislocated my knee. I’ve given birth to a baby via c-section, for crying out loud.
Those things all hurt. A lot. In fact, I often say that my broken dislocated knee was the worst pain imaginable.
Turns out, I was wrong. My fragile little brain has the ability to hurt me more than anything else I’ve ever experienced.
To clarify, I’ve always had headaches. In fact, I was diagnosed with migraines a number of years ago. But pharmaceuticals have never let me down. Sometimes, if I don’t take something fast enough, it takes hours for the pain to abate. Hours I have to spend in a darkened room, with a pillow pressed tight against my head.
But it always goes away.
Or at least it always did. Until Saturday.
On Saturday I woke up with a headache. Not a migraine, just a headache. So I took something. It didn’t help. In fact, as the day went on, it got even worse. So much worse that I ended up taking some migraine meds.
That worked. For an hour. Then it came back.
This cycle continued, endlessly, for days. I couldn’t sleep. I wasn’t hungry. I couldn’t work. I began thinking that I had a brain tumor – or was about to have an aneurysm.
Finally, yesterday, when my husband realized I was sobbing because it hurt so bad, he took me to the urgent care. Before we left, I packed my glasses, some makeup – a few things my irrational brain thought I would need if I ended up in the hospital needing brain surgery.
Yeah. It was that bad.
Long story short, it wasn’t an aneurysm. Or a brain tumor (I hope). Nope, the angels at the urgent care just injected my butt with a bunch of drugs (horse tranquilizers, I think), and away it went.
It’s just a memory now. A memory of a nightmare. One that could return at anytime. One that is immune to the most powerful weapons in my medication arsenal. And you know what? That’s frightening.