Chapter 5

There are certain moments when you don’t want to deal with other people.

When you are kneeling in front of the toilet as a series of anvils falls on your head and your vision intermittently fades in and out would be one of those times.

That was where I was when I heard the knock at the door. Knowing it was probably Lisa, I yelled, at least as much as the pounding in my head would allow, “It’s open!”

“Where are you?” she called out.

“Bathroom,” I groaned. “Give me a mi...” And then whatever might have been left of anything I had eaten earlier in the day decided to make a return appearance.

She gasped at the sound of the vomiting and hurried into the bathroom. “Oh, my God, are you okay?”

“Migraine.” My voice slurred as I uttered the word.

“Is there anything I can do for you? Do you need anything?”

I made a waving motion toward the row of prescription bottles on the vanity. “Imitrex. Then bed. I’ll be okay once I sleep.”

Lisa rifled through the bottles until she identified the Imitrex. She took one out, put some water in a small glass, and handed both to me. As I held my breath to stifle my gag reflex, I swallowed them and stumbled toward my bedroom.

I eased my body down, fully clothed, to the bed. Somewhat to my surprise, Lisa undid the fastener on my leg and pulled it off, then removed my other shoe. She covered me with a blanket, even tucked me in, and then slipped out of the room. I fell asleep shortly afterward.

A couple of hours later, I awakened, feeling moderately better but extremely disoriented. As consciousness returned, I took inventory. The pain in my head had abated. Everything else hurt, but that’s a side effect of the Imitrex. I mentally acknowledged the need to take some Advil for that. Finally, I found that I was a little hungry.

I put on my leg and stumbled out to the kitchen. I stopped short when I saw Lisa sitting at my dining room table, glasses on, laptop open in front of her, and several spreadsheets scattered across the table. She looked up and smiled at me. “Feeling better?”

“Mmm.” There’s an actual term for the sluggishness and disorientation many people feel in the immediate aftermath of a migraine. Appropriately enough, it’s called a migraine hangover, because it’s not terribly unlike an actual hangover, and I was definitely feeling it at the moment. I raised my hand and waffled it back and forth in the universal “so-so” gesture.

“Anything you need?”

I thought about this for a moment, then decided on my go-to post-migraine snack. “Cup of tea and some toast.”