Wednesday, August 23, 2006
I've never been able to go to a baseball game, amusement park, or outdoor concert on a hot day without having a migraine. Like most migraineurs, especially those of us who experience a large number of attacks, identifying triggers and predicting with any certainty when we need to worry about them can be next to impossible. But heat is my one steady and predictable trigger - if I'm out in the beating sun, I get too hot and get a horrible migraine. Like clockwork.
Even though the Royals are so terrible this season that it is beyond embarrassing, a group of our friends from college decided to meet up at a game this weekend. Baseball games are always fun, even if your team is depressingly bad. I did feel a bit worried about making the plans because I know well enough what to expect from my body, but I wanted to go anyway. I planned ahead the way I always do, packing water and treatment medication and doing my best to minimize other conditions that contribute to the development of an attack. And since it was an evening game, I thought there was a slim chance I might be able to pull a fast one on my body and avoid the attack altogether. No such luck.
By the fourth inning, I was in severe pain and very nauseated. I started playing that game where I try my best to act like everything is fine. No one is better than a migraineur at hiding excrutiating pain from even close friends. It's what we do. Of course, eventually it catches up with you, and it was obvious to everyone that I was hanging on by a thread by the eighth inning.
By the end of the game I thought I was going to be sick, and my head hurt so badly I was in tears. The walk to the car was excrutiating, at best. When we got to the car, I used my Migranal nasal spray and was eventually able to fall asleep for the ride home.
Why did I go? I knew what would happen. My hope that I might be able to avoid the attack was nothing more than wishful thinking. Am I that desperate for human interaction? That eager to pretend I can do what everyone else can? Am I just an idiot? I have no idea what I was thinking, and a big part of me wishes we'd stayed home. The only thing it got me was zero quality time with my husband, who I never see during the week because he's working so hard to try to make ends meet. I guess I don't think it was worth it. I hate living this way.
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