At a time when I need an extra day of the week wedged somewhere magically between Friday and Saturday, I’ve been losing time to migraines. Even with the powerful medication I take, hours sink into a black pit of foggy pain pulsating at the edge of my brain.
When I am mid-migraine, I hate the way it makes me crumble in weakness and agony like a horse whose legs buckle midstride. I get up anyway and push through the pain and the medicine, knowing that there will be empty spaces in my memory spool when I come around again. I feel that my brain is being eroded by the pain and the drugs and that when I revive, I will be a little less of my former self. Always, always on the outside of myself, to watch this degradation of self and strength is frustrating and cruel…I mean, at least they shoot horses.
But that’s the subject of an entire movie, isn’t it ?