Pain in the Head

As opposed to the ass, you see.

I had awful migraine headaches when I was a kid. We didn’t identify them as “migraine” right away, we just called them “a bad headache.” They began when I was around 10 years old, and continued until college.

I still get bad headaches, but I believe they would now be categorized as sinus and/or stress headaches. I believe the term “migraine” is overused by some who have a really painful headache and don’t believe anyone will take it seriously unless they can label it as such. I really don’t care one way or the other — it isn’t a status level or anything. However, true migraine headaches are debilitating. See the Mayo Clinic’s definition:

A migraine is a headache that can cause intense throbbing pain or a pulsing feeling, usually on one side of the head. It often happens with nausea, vomiting, and extreme sensitivity to light and sound. Migraine attacks can last for hours to days, and the pain can be so bad that it interferes with your daily activities.

My headaches would start with that pulsing pain, in a particular place that felt like it was behind my eye socket, at the top of my nose, just above the inside corner of my eye. (Did you just put your finger there? I did!) The pain would be dull at first, but almost immediately I felt a corresponding sick feeling.

Of course, the first time I had a migraine we didn’t know WHAT it was. As luck would have it, my family was on a fishing trip up at Lake of the Woods. A giant crew of my parents’ friends and their families took over a resort and spent a long weekend fishing (and probably drinking and playing cards). The second year was awesome because we shared a cabin with the Roy family, and their daughter Rachel was one of my favorite friends. The first year, however, was stressful for me. We shared a cabin with a family that had kids a bit older than I — they weren’t unkind to me, but I did feel pretty left out. I trotted across the resort to another cabin with girls my age — ones who I invited to birthday parties because they were family friends, but we weren’t necessarily besties — but was scolded when I knocked down their house of playing cards and I headed back to our place. The headache had already started at that point (probably early afternoon) and quickly degraded as I found my mom and told her I wasn’t feeling good.

I can’t imagine what my mom thought when I said I had a headache, and then began vomiting from the pain. It must have been scary! At any rate, I finally fell asleep for a couple of hours, and the headache magically vanished. My dad felt bad that I had missed fishing that day, so took me out on the boat with him and one of his friends. I was not having a good time in that boat, right up until I felt a massive tug on my line. I set the hook (with my trademark “Hi-YUH!” that my dad just loved) but couldn’t reel it in for the life of me. My dad took my pole, figuring it was a big snag, when all of a sudden an enormous northern pike broke the surface. I took the pole back while my dad and his friend wrestled with the net and the 15 pound monster and finally got it into the boat, where it nearly killed us all before Dad’s friend brained it with a paddle. That, folks, is how family lore is created.

The second time I had one it started to come on in a LeeAnn Chin in Minneapolis. My mom and I were going to have lunch with my Grandma Merry, then head back to Grandma and Grandpa’s house where my Uncle John Pancake’s really cool [then] girlfriend, Catherine, was going to take my brother and me to see The Journey of Natty Gann. I had been looking forward to this event for weeks, so I did not mention to my mother that my head was starting to hurt. I’m sure she could tell something was off, but figured I was just pouting about her joke about the chicken.

What joke about the chicken, Susie? I’m glad you asked. We were in the line at LeeAnn Chin, looking at the selections of dishes through the glass. I pointed at one and asked my mom, “Is that chicken?” My mom said (with sarcasm I didn’t catch), “No, it’s crow.” I chose it anyway, but fully believed I was eating crow for far too long. My head was already starting to hurt though, so I can’t blame the questionable parenting. (Kidding, Mom.)

At any rate, by the time we got back to my grandparent’s house, I couldn’t hide anymore. I threw up, and was put to bed (in Uncle John’s room — my favorite) to try to nap. Sleep was the only thing that ever made the headache go away, so it was vital that I get unconscious ASAP. Of course, falling asleep with a jackhammer in your head is challenging, so unfortunately there were many rounds of vomiting from the pain between my mom coming in to rub my head and tell me how sorry she was for me. At one point, Catherine poked her head in to reassure me that they would not go to the movie without me (sorry, Tim!) which was incredibly kind.

I averaged 1-2 of these bangers a year. We noticed fairly early on that they tended to occur when I was overtired, stressed, or really looking forward to something — or all three. It was not a huge surprise, then, that I ended up with one on Christmas night a year or two later.

I hadn’t slept much the night before (because… Santa), but I was fine all day until we got in the car to head out to Grandma and Grandpa Powell’s cabin for Christmas dinner. There was a big crowd that year (for my small family): Uncle John Pancake and Catherine were up, and my Grandma and Grandpa Saxhaug came out as well. I managed to greet everyone before I turned to my mom and said, “Mom, I have a headache.” Her face fell and she got me into the dark bedroom downstairs as quickly as possible. What I remember most about that night is the revolving parade of family members who came in to take turns rubbing my head. I managed to fall asleep while they were eating dinner, and emerged later — rather pale — to have a bite and participate in a family game. The next Christmas, Uncle John Pancake asked me several times if I was going to take nap, or had I had a nap, or did I feel like I needed a nap. It was pretty sweet.

Eventually (8th grade?), my doctor sent me for a CT scan to see what was going on in my head. Nothing seemed out of place (insert joke here), so I was prescribed some migraine meds. The meds worked great as long as I took them as soon as I had an inkling of the headache (this will be important in a moment), but they knocked me right out. Luckily, we also realized that the migraine occurrences coincided with my menstrual cycle, so I tried to be better about sleep around those times.

The most humiliating migraine event was in high school. My Grandma Merry had bullied me into coming out to the lake to pick up the grandson of one of her neighbors to “entertain him.” Grandma was absolutely aghast when she found out that I brought my friend Sacheen with me for courage (because I was a giant, awkward chicken about strange boys).

“Susie, you really shouldn’t be friends with girls who are prettier than you!” was her comment. Grandma absolutely thought I was beautiful, but Sacheen had a pheromone or something and everybody knew it. Onward.

It turned out to be a good thing I brought Sacheen, because after we picked out a movie (Barton Fink — odd choice, upon reflection) and settled into my basement to watch, I had to admit that a migraine had been coming on for some time. Up to my room I went, to throw up repeatedly (too late for meds) and curse the gods, while Sach and The Grandson finished the movie and were driven home by my mother. Sexy times.

I could vehemently declare that the end of puberty was the end of my Migraine Era… but I wouldn’t want to have to eat crow, Mother.

Thanks for reading.

Love, Susie