Of horrific weekends and migraine attacks…

The past couple of weekends have been weekends from hell, the details of which I will not go into right here, suffice to say I have my own personalised version of resident evil right at home.

So it came to pass that on Sunday evening the little men with horns and tails were having a right bang up within my cranium. It started rather innocously with a slight ache behind the right eye as it always does and within the hour I was head buried into the pillows wishing I could garotte anyone who dared speak in volumes greater than a whisper. Unfortunately the spouse and child are made of stern stuff and do not believe in following decibel levels as laid down by me. Obviously I need to change my intimidating strategies. I need to be taken seriously. I need my commands to be followed unquestioningly. I thunder, “Keep in down guys, my head is splitting.” The child comes right upto my ear and lets out a high pitched scream that would have been a right contender for glass shattering abilities after Darryl Hannah patented it in Splash. The spouse changes the channel to a filmi song one which has the kind of loud beats that the men in pointy horns just love and start synchronising their drilling too. They spread operations from behind right eye and get down to serious work in mid cranium now with road drills that seem to be making pulp of the entire right half of the brain. Within half an hour my jaw, my teeth, my ear have all risen in revolt, and handed in their papers. I loll listlessly on the bed in agony. “I think I have a brain tumour, ” I gasp to the spouse, ready to dictate my dying will and last testament. He casts a surly gaze at my agonised face, and changes the channel without a word. “Take a Disprin.”Β  “I already took two. The headache is just getting worse,” I reply in dramatic manner that would have won me an Oscar is anyone would have got a camera rolling while I said it.

I drag myself inch by inch to the next room. I put the lights out, close the door, and lie with my head sandwiched between two pillows to muffle out the sound and light that set the drills on overdrive. I should atleast drink to enjoy the pleasure of being drunk rather than suffer these phantom hangovers, I think. I wonder if I should go in for a brain scan. I wonder if they will find a blob the size of an orange somewhere within the flabby grey folds. I revel in doomsday projections with the kind of sadism that would have served me better had I been in the movie making business. I picture myself in a hospital robe, smiling wanly at the child before being wheeled in to have my skull cut up, it occurs to me that the child has skipped his evening milk, thanks to my headache, so I crawl across the room, which has suddenly become the consistency of treacle like air molecules, and yell at the spouse to get the child his milk. I get a grunt in response. I crawl back into the bed, and position pillows appropriately. Then, take one pillow off because I cannot hear the spouse yelling at the child to down his milk, a task on normal days, which must have at least fifty repetitions of “Drink your milk” at volumes enough for the cows at Aarey Milk Colony across the highway to start lactating in fear. I swam through the treacley molecule air that suddenly forms when I have migraine attacks and motion becomes difficult, and poked my head into the other room, the child and the spouse were contently watching a movie, the storyline of which revolves around a character named John Rambo and contains gratuitious acts of violence. I threw the kind of yelling screaming tantrum that had John Rambo forgotten and the milk downed in two shakes of an AK 47.

I prepared to crawl back under the pillows when I realised that the head was normal. I was not seeing double, the men with horns and a tail had tucked their tails between their legs and vamoosed. The head was back in my sole possession. The moment they return the next time round, I know just what to do. I’m patenting that tantrum. I’m open to giving guest lectures, and doing appearances on shows. I think I might just make my fortune yet.

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About Kiran Manral

Author of The Face At The Window, ( 2016), Karmic Kids, All Aboard (2015) , Once Upon A Crush (2014) and The Reluctant Detective (2011).
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11 Responses to Of horrific weekends and migraine attacks…

  1. Ruchira says:

    Your descriptions are too accurate. I suffer from all that you mentioned & I get dizzy and puke as hell as well !!
    Next time I am hit by one those horrid migrains I am definately going to try screaming or throwing a tantrum !
    p.s/ Hope the resident devil goes away real soon !

    Like

  2. So a tantrum, huh? Better than a Disprin you say? Hmmm….

    Well, here’s to no more little men with horns and pitchforks…

    Take care, you!

    Like

  3. anonymusketeer says:

    i stick a notice outside my hostelroom door saying –

    ‘you shout, you die. — migraine alert’

    by the way isnt disprin too mild? i take voveron (sp?)

    Like

  4. Gigi says:

    Kiran,
    Thank you for describing what happens during a migraine. My mom suffered from this problem and she would just lie down and be very quiet. It was the only times we were allowed to get a takeaway.
    I never knew what actually went on in her head – your post helps me understand a little better. And Disprin! You need stronger stuff πŸ™‚

    Like

  5. Kiran Manral says:

    Ruchira: Oh I forgot to write about the nausea and the throwing up….you reminded me.

    M4: Thanks…

    Anonymusketeer: I’m so borrowing that line. I could even follow through on that threat.

    Gigi: I hope you are nicer to her now that you know. I know I need stronger stuff but I’m the kind of person who refuses to medicate herself until she’s sort of ordering her coffin.

    Like

  6. Poppy says:

    Oh Migraine – I’ve heard horror stories about it. Knew the tantrums would come handy someday!

    Like

  7. kennybunkportmaine says:

    I like it! Will practice to perfection myself, and, of course, pay you with my teeth.

    Like

  8. Gypsy Girl says:

    ooohhh!! Me so sorry! I must’ve been on your Shooting list!! πŸ™‚

    Like

  9. Inbavalli says:

    I’ve been through these attacks – classic symptoms with colored rings, partial loss of vision, nausea, irritability, etc. Fortunately they stopped one fine day in my late-teens.

    Like

  10. litterateuse says:

    Uncanny how I stumbled upon your blog – and this post in particular – but here’s my twitter update from less than 24 hours ago!!

    I’m sure you have your ways to tackle the beast, but here’s what helps me:

    When it’s just kicking in, 2 migraine tablets or coffee.

    If it has already kicked in, NO coffee, perhaps a walk/drive in fresh air, looking in the distance from the window/balconey, some watery fruit with salt on it/lemon juice with no sugar.

    I want to sit in the dark when I have one, but before get any, I prefer white fluorescent light rather than those horrible yellow lights you get here – I think they almost give me a migraine.

    I suppose (and sure hope!!) you’re feeling better now πŸ™‚

    Take care,
    gauri

    Like

  11. Kiran Manral says:

    Poppy: Keep the tip handy.

    kbpm: Let me know if it works.

    Gypsy girl: Dont be silly. Holding your baby made my day…

    Inbavalli: How did they stop? Just like that? What luck…

    Gauri: I’ve tried the lemon juice, the migraine tables, let me try the walk, the looking in the distance…I find a dark quiet room and a falling off to sleep are the only cure for mine….

    Like

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