Disabled Chronicles, No. 9372
I reached for the sealed blue bottle with trepidation. I considered forgoing the new pills for Motrin but hesitated when I counted up the kaleidoscope of increasing migraine symptoms that I tried to ignore all day: a blind spot in the field of vision of my left eye, difficulty with watching the TV, tension running up the back of my neck into my scalp, the low, tugging pain soon-to-be ice pick jabs of pain in my left temple.
No. Motrin would only let me pretend this migraine wasn’t happening for a few hours at most. Taking the new pills after the Motrin wore off would render them useless, since I was supposed to take them at the onset of these migraines.
And if nothing else, this was a migraine.
I held the smallish blue prescription bottle in my left hand and half-heartedly depressed the child-proof cap with my right, hoping that by not being able to open it myself, that that would be a sign not to take them at all. But the cap gave way like room temperature butter on freshly toasted bread.
I guess this was happening.
I rattled the meager pills in the bottle as I eyed the foil seal. I prayed this would give me a reason not to take them but my thumbnail easily breached the barrier. I was committed now.
I fished one of the pills from the bottom with my right index finger, placing it on the edge of my laptop to examine it. It seemed innocuous enough. A bit smaller than an aspirin. 50mg of something unknown to me that was supposed to halt the march of and the horror that my migraines have become.
I pulled my phone and typed in the new medications name along with the antibiotics I am also taking, maybe hoping the two don’t go well together. But my drugs.com cross referencing showed no contraindications.
Before I could snoop around and discover the nefarious and rare side effects that come with this pill, I closed the bottle, snatched the pill off the edge of my laptop and turned to my table, where my dinner awaited me. I took a few spoonfuls of food and then took the pill, then followed it with more food. It was small enough not to get stuck. I was relieved. It was done.
I tried to pay attention to any changes and noticed none after ten minutes. I finished my dinner and kept watch of the time. When I began to have the feeling of soda bubbles beneath my scalp on the left side, I knew it was showtime.
Sitting still, the flushing came on soon after. I wondered if this was the onset of a panic attack? The disappearance of the pain that ran up the back of my neck and into my scalp told me otherwise. The clearing up of my vision confirmed it – it was in fact the medication. But the nausea? The nausea spiked up so fast that my eyes flung open in sheer fear. I squeezed my lips together and sought the saving graces of my water. My head felt spacey like a medium-sized hangover. I began not to trust my perception because it felt surreal. Was I really here? Was this really happening? What exactly WAS happening?
I maneuvered to my phone and dialed my night aide, spitting out a message as coherently as I could for her to come put me to bed ASAP as I was not feeling well. She made her way and the look on her face when she saw me told me everything I needed to know: I was in bad shape.
I parked my wheelchair crooked many times and had to correct it, when usually I get it on the first try. I talked low because the sound of my own voice seemed too loud? close? abrasive? in my own ears. She placed me in bed and my bones and joints ached like old creaky hinges. If my eyes closed and I slipped into another realm, I don’t think I would have noticed.
But after a bit, I slept. I slept for nearly 11 hours only to wake up, pissed at this new medicine, still hung over but migraine free.
#IDontEvenKnowBro #ICantEven #SickOfBeingSick