Drugs.
Nothing heavy. But, still … drugs. I am not advocating the use of illegal substances – I am merely stating the blatantly obvious need for drugs to cure all that ails me. I get migranes. I am an insomniac. I have an aneyrism waiting to happen. Not just when computers fuck up or I have to resort to shit like listening to The Call of the Loon (I haven’t sunk that low yet). As a general rule I don’t take pain killers, but when it gets so that I can’t speak, sleep, think and I move like an old, broken down mule I definitely think its time for something stronger than a tripple espresso.
Over the counter stuff doesn’t cure a migrane. It just moves it a little. Nudges it further down the line. Shifts it away from the frontal lobe and past the amygdala. It winds up lurking in the occipital lobes sending tendrils down the base of the skull into the neck. And there it resides, laughing. Or rather, cackling and playing the violin like Nero while Rome burns. And, yes, I know that’s an anachronism, thank you, there were no fiddles in ancient Rome and the whole thing is probably a myth anyway. But picture a tiny, mad fiddler doing the two step in my lower brain with a pair of steel tipped boots on and you’ve got a pretty good mental image of what a lurking migrane feels like. It isn’t actually going anywhere. And it likes reminding you of that every time you stand up: whooo… colours drain and there’s just a kind of squelshing noice. That’s your brain trying to run away. You get a nice, tight feeling in your shoulders too. When you roll them they snap, crackle and pop. Feels like your skeleton has some added bone in it. You’re just bonier than normal.
Anodynes are a beautiful thing, sure, but they can’t carry you all the way. You still have to get out of bed in the morning, and that’s all on you. You have to convince the parts of your mind, or un-mind, that keep telling you it’s Monday already and it’s your day off, and that wasn’t really the alarm going off, that was just a dream. Almost had me going there for a while this morning, too. I almost believed I skipped ahead a day. Almost. But not quite. Brain is clever, mind is clever too. Body is basically still asleep and asking not to be bothered at the moment. Brain tells Mind “stop lying and get out of bed”. Mind goes “no, no, this is our day off. Let’s go back to sleep”. Brain goes “don’t you think I would have noticed if I missed a whole day? What are we having black-outs now? Get up!” Mind goes off to sulk.
Hmmm… Ok so they claim that migranes are partly caused by stress. I am not a particularily stressed-out person. I get ranty about things sure, but that’s basically just releasing the preassure so I don’t have to do something rash. Ok, valves and preassure and stuff going on. But in my essence, in the eye of the storm – not stressed. Assumptions though are that I must, though. You don’t get photophobia and hyperacusis that way. You don’t get nausea and loss of apetite either. Hen, egg – whatever. It’s the same thing with the insomnia. It’s just inate. Hen -egg – whole fucking chicken farm, two foxes and a box of crackers thrown in. Genetics is a crapshoot anyway.
I consider myself lucky that you can no longer buy laudanum over the counter. Have you seen From Hell? Johnny Depp sits in the bathtub. He’s smoking a black cherute, mixing his absinth with laudanum and trying to relax. That’s where you’d find me, if times were more forgiving and laws less dainty. In the bath with a cherute, a bottle of Absinth and a bottle of laudanum – add to taste.
ROL
Recent Comments