The Worst Thing About a Migraine

Hi.  It's been 2 minutes.  Does your head still hurt?

Is you can’t explain it to your dog.

Christmas tried everything he knew.   He ran out to the lawn, dug me up some tasty worms, and brought them in the house as a snack for me, dropping them whole, live, wiggling and fishy smelling at my feet.  Nothing like a few fat night crawlers to help  dim a splitting headache, flashing lights, and a lurching stomach.  When I didn’t seem all that interested in this delicacy, he shrugged his proverbial shoulders and ate them himself.

I could see him trying to think it through.  Bringing me all the dirty underwear out of the laundry basket didn’t fix it, worms didn’t fix it, what other perfect thing might work?

I see the light bulb go on over his head, but am unable to react.   I can’t move.  He pounces on my chest like a cat, and tries to dig the pain furiously out of my collar bone.  It’s up here somewhere, right?  When I manage to raise a weak hand to wave him off, he stop dead, sits down on my chest, leans forward, smells my breath, and stares me in the eye.  Is he evaluating me?  I’m hallucinating.  He sniffs my face a little more, then arrives at a professional opinion.  I need to be licked furiously on the mouth.

By his mouth.

The one that just ate all those worms.

Gag.  I feel like I’m being licked with a dead guppy.  I smell like it too.

Thank god I didn’t try to eat breakfast.  I manage to push him off my chest, and groan.  My face stinks like worm guts.  This is not helping my head.  I’m going to have to get vertical and wash my face before I end up worshipping the porcelain god.  I manage this.  I lay back down on the couch in the dark room with earplugs in my ears.  I can’t take any input.   I cover my eyes with my arm.

After a few seconds, I have the distinct feeling I’m being watched.  I want to fend of any further ministering to the sick by Dr. Dog, so I open my eyes.  The face you see above is inches from mine, just sitting there, staring at me. I think he’s trying to use mind power to will me into being me again.  It melts my heart.  This face wants to fix it.

(Aside from Jane: I’m fine, this was last week!)

13 thoughts on “The Worst Thing About a Migraine

    1. There’s a rectangular orange button on the right, under the blue “Tag” cloud, that says “Subscribe”. I think it works, but I haven’t subscribed myself, so can’t say for sure!

      Let me know if it doesn’t work, and I’ll fix it!
      Glad you found some fun here.

    1. I have to admit, he knows how to work the sheer cuteness factor. And bringing me his favorite things…that’s love and selflessness.

      I wish one of his favorite things was chocolate instead of worms!

  1. Glad you’re better. I get them too. Stinks.

    Tell Dr. Dog to fetch you 2 Advil. I call it my miracle drug. It doesn’t matter how sick I am. Usually within 30-40 minutes I’m functioning and can actually return to work.

    1. Not true! One of my cats watches me while I sleep and when I start to wake up, licks me on the nose. It most definitely wakes me up.

      As for migraines . . . I haven’t had one in many years (thankfully) but my miracle drug of choice is Aleve Cold and Sinus.

    1. I’m totally fine now. Don’t get them very often. Think it was the pressure change with the temp dropping 50 degrees so quickly.

      I’m sure you’re right. Nothing like live worms, then chewed up worm guts to make a headache leave FAST.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s