We can’t remember the physical element of pain, yet the memory of the experience can be so vivid that it can feel like pain all over again.  In the last 24 hours I have experienced some of the worst pain I can remember.  But even now, 5 hours after the worst of it, I am having trouble coming up with how it felt. Those of you with migraine understand how hard it is to explain to doctors how a headache feels when you aren’t having one. You simply remember how  you felt in terms of what you did. (It hurt when you leaned over, ran, looked at lights, etc.) I still have a hard time deciding if it was a dull or sharp pain. (A tip that’s worked for me: next headache, take the time to write down how the pain feels, where it’s at, draw a picture of your head, use arrows, squiggles, whatever works) Basically pain is a funny thing. I am definitely glad we don’t remember the actual experience of pain. I calculated how many headaches I have had in my life one time, based on a conservative estimate of 3 headaches a week since age 8. It came out close to 3000 headaches. If  I could physically remember that much, I would not want to do so.

I can remember my top 5 most painful headaches. This is just based on my memory of course, and that fades with time.  These are in chronological order and explained in as much detail as I can provide.

 1. Little Girls and Gasoline Swirls.  I can remember very little from childhood. I get flashes and partial stories. I either remember faces or names, but not both. All of my complete little friends are missing from that time. I do remember my best friend at the time, Melissa. This happened when I was around 7 years old. Melissa and I would run around the town we grew up in, to the river, the water towers, in the woods, pretty much anywhere. It was still (mostly) safe to do that back then.  I remember we were at this creek. It was very secluded and there was a discarded tire in the water. It was a hot summer day. The water had a beautiful rainbow-like shimmer on its surface. The bad part was that the air smelled like gasoline. Melissa had no problem getting closer to the creek to inspect all the potential debris.  I stayed back because I was quickly starting to get sick to my stomach. I soon felt dizzy and began to get a headache. This was the day I would discover one of my headache triggers was indeed noxious smells such as gasoline.  The next parts are blurry but I remember making it to Melissa’s dad’s house just in time to throw up in their bath tub. There was a lot of people in the house and I remember being freaked out about that and just wanting my parents. I have a vague memory of sitting on the floor with something on my head until my mom got there. To this very day whenever I see that shimmery rainbow of pollution on water, I think about that day.

2. The Closet.  I remember a lot about 6th grade. I think it’s because our class was in a trailer and there was a bit of a homey vibe to it. What I hated most about 6th grade was P.E.  (This is actually what I hated most about school, every year of school.) P.E., outside, during summer, for me, is a headache death sentence. I remember one day we were outside in the heat, doing something in the field. I reached my limit on how far I could push myself and I knew any second I was going to throw up and/or pass out. Can’t remember if I went to the nurses office first or if I just went straight back to the trailer. My teacher, Mrs. O., along with sweet air conditioning was in the trailer. She let me lay down in the coat closet, which had a bean bag in it, as this is where we would spend time reading.  She prodded me about my headaches and I revealed a little of myself to her, and then I started to cry. (Crying with the worst headache ever is never a good thing.) I don’t remember the actual conversation, but this teacher left an impression on me. I still remember her face and her full name. She was one of the first teachers I came out of the headache closet to.  

3. Brain Surgery Numero Uno.  In 2000, I had my first brain surgery to drain an arachnoid cyst resting in my cerebellum. To put it bluntly, it felt just like you would think sawing someone’s head open would feel like.  I remember going into the surgery, and being wheeled down a hallway, and then immediately waking up to hot white pain everywhere. Every single movement caused nausea. I vomited repeatedly from the pain, then I vomited from moving, then I vomited from moving from vomiting. I was in the ICU for…hmm, 3 days? Can’t quite remember as I really had no conscious thoughts during that time. (I do remember my brother, sister-in-law, and niece coming in for a visit and my niece giving me a little stuffed kitty.) Recovery from the first brain surgery was something no one could have prepared me for.  The worst pain in my life easily comes from this time.  So basically I don’t recommend getting your head cut open.

4. Wal-Mart Does Stuff to You.  When you work in retail, you have to put up with a certain level of unpleasantness on a daily basis. Wal-Mart is not a happy place to work, but it is a place to work. Having chronic migraine and working at Wal-Mart for 2 years, I gotta say I must enjoy some level of suffering because it took all of my energy to make it out alive.  I had many many terrible headaches while working at Wal-Mart, but the one that stands out in my head (ha), is the one day I needed help and actually asked for it. I usually try to do everything myself. I get home myself, even if I have to wait for the bus for a long time. This day was different. This was the oh my god, I have no thoughts, just one goal – get home.  I was crying at work and my manager made me wait until someone else came in at lunch, even though we had proper staffing without me. This is the only time I have basically shut down at work because of a headache. I stayed in the lab and just stood there crying. I still get mad thinking about a manager keeping an employee there when under that much pain.  Anyway, when I was finally released, I took the long walk of pain back to the break room where I ran into my Ex’s brother, who worked there at the time.  I told him I was waiting for a ride home, and even though he was only on his 15 min break, he offered to drive me home. He most certainly would be late to work but he did it anyway, and I couldn’t talk him out of it.  (This is the sign of a truly good man.)  The ride home was intense for me because I held back throwing up many times.  Every bump in the road was excruciating and the silence felt awkward. I didn’t know if he knew that when it hurts this bad I don’t want to talk . I made it home just in time to throw up in the toilet. I especially remember this experience because I threw up 3 times, and I threw up my medicine. Awesome. You should probably be seeing a common theme appearing throughout these severe headaches, yes?

Side note: Thank you to every single person who has ever given me a ride home because I wasn’t feeling well.

5. Hide Your Weapons.  I now know a perfect combination of events, drugs, and emotions that will produce the perfect headache. I am going to have to make sure this never happens again. When I went to bed this morning at 3:30am after a long stressful cry fest I had a headache. Let’s say pain scale 6. When I woke up 2 hours later, the feeling that bolted through my head immediately after opening my eyes was akin to waking up after brain surgery. Let’s say pain scale 12.  I have no medication to alleviate the pain right now because my neurology office can’t get it together. I went straight for the bottle of Excedrin and took 2, followed by lots and lots of water. I could not lay flat on the bed. The pressure in my head was unimaginable. I was getting scared and I was reaching the ER point. Actually I was reaching the 911 point. The panic that goes through my head at this point produces insane thoughts. Just do anything to make the pain stop. I was so nauseated that I couldn’t keep water down and after 5 minutes of staring at the toilet in horrid anticipation I literally projectile vomited out all the water and pills I had just taken, which promptly scared the cat which was sitting next to me. Feeling an ever so slight decrease in pressure I went for all the headache tricks I could, including HeadOn, Peppermint Oil, and my trusty ice pack.  Somehow I managed to fall asleep, and dread it at the same time, as I had no idea how I would feel when I opened my eyes again. 

Here I am another 3 hours later. I gotta say, I’m a little afraid to do anything. I’m scared to move. To eat. What’s going to make it worse today? I’m tired of these headaches. I’m tired of the pain. Twenty years of this.  I’m tired of having to explain myself. Of having people that I care about not understand. I’m just so tired.

Further Reading: Why Do We Remember Pain?

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