Figuratively speaking that is. It started with a small pain between the eyes, near the ethmoid sinuses. It grew in intensity by the hour until 3 hours later, I was forced to go up to my bedroom and close the blinds and shut the door. But it didn’t end there. It became so bad that I went into the closet and shut the door. I sat on the floor as the pain attacked the top of my head, slightly more so on the left side. Eventually I was sweating as the pain moved up the pain scale…5…6….7…..8! I became nauseous and my wife got me a trashcan. I tried to puke, knowing from my past experiences with migraines, that I feel better immediately. But this wasn’t like a migraine. I usually get aurus or flashing lines with those. This wouldn’t respond to anything. I grasped my head in my hands, trying to massage my head. My hair was becoming soaked. 2 advil at the start of the episode hadn’t done a thing. I was on my own.
I tried to lay down, but it became worse. I sat up, forgetting how I had been having vertigo the last 5 days when sitting up quickly from a prone position. My world swam and I bent over the trashcan and dry heaved. Then, I threw up small bits and pieces of lunch. The pain continued. My wife called my ENT/sinus surgeon. I would need a CT scan again. That wouldn’t help the pain. I cried out to God, and gave it to him. From somewhere inside, I didn’t care anymore, I could die and it wouldn’t matter. It wasn’t mine. Within the hour the pain had gone down to a 5. I wore black eye patching to the appt. The headache fell to a 3 by the time we got there. And now, 2 hours later, it is almost gone, but the memory of it haunts me and scares me.