I whine about migraines a lot on this particular blog. At some point in the last year headaches became a lifestyle rather than an occurrence. After going a few weeks without much beyond the whimper of a migraine, the specialist signed off for six months and wished me luck. I spent much of my free time in the weeks that followed upside down, waiting for the inevitable rainbow express to spew forth from me. Running got put on hold, as did every fun thing in life (like staring at my computer, waiting for a blog to come out). At work, I’m like Milton Waddams, and can hide a migraine. I work in a basement office, and am pretty much in
the dark, anyway. I’ve got my Swingline stapler and as long as nobody moves my desk, can type quietly. After a while, losing weekends to headaches became unacceptable. In the most non-Milton way, I set out down the path of enlightenment.
Seeking out witch doctors, shamans and Canadians, I went about finding remedies on my own. One day I found myself all turned around looking for a little medicine shop and wandered down a back alley. The mean streets of Saint Joseph, Michigan can get rough at 3:00 in the afternoon. Shady types will try to sell you Crocs or get you hooked on homemade fudge. After a week of reading, searching and living on crackers, I found myself armed with an arsenal of knowledge and old school remedies. Some of them have unwanted side effects, but within weeks are supposed to alleviate migraines. Sure, I have glowing, fluorescent green skin and you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry, but it’s a good trade for being headache free. The supplements are clearing my system of unwanted toxins,
along with those pesky organs I never used. Oh, well. Where there’s hope there’s (hopefully) no headache.