New lease on life

Today I had a migraine. Yep, turns out I'm not cured.

This one was BAD.

It lasted from 7:30am until 4:40pm.

But now it's gone and I feel like:

• Riding a horse bareback through the Grand Canyon. 

• Going to the nearest prison, unlocking the cells and letting the jailbirds run free.

• Recording an album of classic ballad covers (my dream vanity project, sorry Madgespace).

• Amtrack-ing from Edmonds to NYC.

• Napping in a canoe on a lake in the sunshine. 

On top of all those things, I had an epiphany that only a post-migraine brain could conjure: 

I must go to Beverly Hills and eat at one of Lisa Vanderpump's restaurants. 

Pump, Sur or Villa Blanca—doesn't matter! I can make this happen. Maybe I'll even wind up as an extra in an episode of RHOBH. 

Anyway, now I have what they call a "migraine hangover". It's as if someone shoved me in a tumble dryer, pressed start and didn't let me out for nine hours. Even though it's over, I can't help but feel achy, exhausted and a bit traumatised. 

Still, my overarching emotions are relief and elation. It's amazing how being unwell can make you realise how glorious it is to feel your 100% self. Health! What a gift!

Also, my sistah Char is a saint. During the dark times today, she brought me food and a San Pellegrino sparkling lemon beverage. She's also organised a few guest bloggers for next week so that I can spend less time on the computer (we think that could be what's triggering the kopfschmerzen).

Now, it's time to rest this weary head. 

Goodnight, 

Margaret

Cured?

Remember this?

And this?

OK, I know you're too lazy to click on those links. They go to my previous blog posts on 1) being diagnosed with migraines and 2) the horrors of having an infected tooth canal.

Turns out, I'm pretty sure the two are related. For months I hypothesised that my botched root canal from 2010 was causing my headaches. Same side of the face. The timing of my symptoms matched up. It seemed like the perfect explanation.

But "no no no" said two dentists and my doctor. "There's no way that your tooth would be causing your headaches. That's just impossible!"

This is what going to the dentist is like in the UK. Quick and brutal, but FREE.

As I grow older, and following one particularly bad year of self-diagnosing and vitamin/supplement self-prescribing, I've recognised the value of seeking professional medical advice. I've stopped WebMD-ing and realised that most weird bodily pains just go away after a while. If they don't, then I call in the experts—not Google.

So, I took the docs at their word. I accepted the fact that I'm a migraine sufferer and ate a pill every time that pesky pain behind my brow-bone reared its ugly head.

Then I got my tooth fixed.

Voilà! No more headaches.

Am I cured? Was I right from the beginning? It's too soon to tell. What I will say is that I haven't had a "migraine" since that rotting canal was excavated, stuffed with polymer and sealed with cement.

YOU DO THE MATH.

Yours,
Dr. Margaret

Migraine, myself and I

As Sarah Koenig's mother taught us, there are seven topics that you're never supposed to bring up in a conversation. They are:

1. How you've slept
2. Your period
3. Your health
4. Your dreams
5. Money
6. Diet
7. Route talk (how you arrived at the destination, traffic, etc.)

Well, sorry Mrs. Matthiessen, but I'm going to break one of your rules right now. Rule number three: health.

I completely agree that waffling on about your ailments is boring and self-indulgent. But as I think we've all learned by now, boring self-indulgence is just part of the Madgespace tapestry. There's no way around it, particularly considering my hasty vow to blog every day for a year. Take what you can get.

So, a bit of backstory: I've been getting headaches behind my left eye for just over three years. They last all day, getting progressively worse at night. They happen probably once every 10 days. On multiple occasions (including Andy's university's fancy schmancy 700th Anniversary Ball), I've had to miss out on cool stuff because of a bad, BAD headache. Sometimes I'll wake up in the night with one. It's the pits.

I like to think I am the type of person who gets things done. I can take care of business with the best of 'em. But for some reason, I have never walked myself to the doctor's office to share my sob story with a qualified, medical professional. Until today.

The doc is convinced that I have....ugh, it pains me to say it, MIGRAINES. Yep, I am one of those people. One of those annoying weaklings who suffers from headaches that are so bad, they aren't just a headache anymore, but a migraine. Ooh la la. A migraine. Look at me, I have a migraine. Migraine, migraine, migraine.

Being a vegetarian is bad enough for my reputation—add in migraines and my tough chick persona completely crumbles. It's even worse to be a migraine-sufferer over here because they pronounce it ME-GRAINE. As in, 'oh deary me-graine'! Bloody hell.

Ancient Egyptian Papyrus Migraine Therapy, apparently. Also known as 'mini alligator on head therapy'?
Image via Wikimedia Commons

Anyway, the doc gave me some medicine that apparently stops the migraine before it can get worse. It's not a painkiller (although he did give me some of those too - scary!), but a diagnostic tablet that stops the pain from happening, rather than just masking it.

Should I be skeptical that talking to the man, having my blood pressure taken, getting my eyes examined with a flashlight, being diagnosed with migraines and picking up my prescription took less than 15 minutes? Seems sketchy to me. I'm going to ease into my treatments slowly, with one eye on WebMD.

In other news, happy Halloween! I didn't even carve a pumpkin this year. Yeah, I know. It's like I don't even recognise myself anymore.

#TurkeyHat giveaway ends TOMORROW. If you haven't entered yet, what exactly is the matter with you? Do it now, or live to regret it forever.

Love,
Margaret