liking feelings lie

What It's Like Living at the Mercy of Migraine

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themighty.com

I lift my head gingerly off the pillow this morning, and every morning, to know what kind of day I will live. When I awake with a full-blown attack, it’s often too late to “rescue” the force of the event I will face.

If I lift my head and find it heavy to hold up, with that all too familiar deep pain in the right side of my neck, along the occipital nerve, my fate for the earlier future is still up in the air.

Sometimes I can stop it—that is if I can function well enough to break the glass vile, open the packages of syringe and filter needle, fill the syringe with medication, change back the end of the syringe from the filter to the needle, and give myself an injection in my thigh.

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