Headaches Are A Pain

I suffered from debilitating migraine headaches for the first 19 years of my life. I’d get them two or three times a week. These headaches could either come about slowly, where I could feel one coming on about an hour or two before it really got its hooks into me, or they could just come out of nowhere; one second everything is fine, the next second I’d be in excruciating pain. The pain was always localized to a single spot, the area between the end of my left eyebrow and the bridge of my nose. It felt like a knitting needle being slowly pushed into my head.

The only thing that could alleviate the pain of these headaches was to sleep for at least 2 hours. If I couldn’t get to sleep, the pain would eventually become so intense that I would end up vomiting. Once that happened the pain would get exponentially worse and would continue until I fell asleep or pass out.

No drugs worked to alleviate the pain. Tylenol, Advil, Aleve, Bufferin, Excedrin, Motrin…all ineffective. I had CAT Scans done that showed nothing out of the ordinary. I was prescribed Fioricet, which caused my headaches to increase in intensity and remain even after sleeping for several hours. Switching to Fiorinal yielded more of the same.

The only thing that worked, at least for a while, was a Pamprin. But then, after time, it took two Pamprin. Then three. At that point, I stopped because who in the hell can survive a regimen of that much Pamprin several times a week?

In 1987, I was a Junior in high school. A few weeks after a Senior girl and I started dating, we had made plans to see the movie Nightmare On Elm Street 3: The Dream Warriors that coming Friday night. And, wouldn’t you know it, Friday afternoon I felt a headache coming on. When I got home from school, I made sure to take a nap. That nap only lasted for about 90 minutes, but my headache was gone when I woke up. I made a frozen pizza, ate, showered, dressed, and left to pick up my date.

We got to the theater, bought the tickets, obtained out concessions (large popcorn and soft drinks), and took our seats. About this time, I could feel a headache coming on. I wouldn’t say that this was a new headache, as I had never before experienced a headache after successfully eliminating a prior one by sleeping. However, I had only slept for about 90 minutes earlier that day and not my usual two hours. This was the return of my previous headache, which had been temporarily kept at bay but was now coming at me like The Terminator. It couldn’t be bargained with. It couldn’t be reasoned with. It didn’t feel pity, or remorse, or fear, and would absolutely not stop. I said nothing, not wanting to leave the movie and disappoint my date.

There’s a scene in the movie where Freddy Krueger kills a guy named Phillip, a habitual sleepwalker, by using Phillip’s veins and arteries as marionette strings, walking him off a tower so that he falls to his death. During this scene, when the arteries and veins were on fully display, the nausea from my headache became too much. I excused myself to my date and headed to the restroom, where I began vomiting. Retching loudly, my whole body was tense from the violent expulsion of popcorn and pizza. I’m sure my face was beet red, and I was seeing spots before my eyes. My nose was running, and I was coughing between heaves. It was bad.

I don’t know how long I was in there, but it must have been a concerning amount of time because someone said, “Is there a Janksy in here?”

I vomited. Spit. “Yeah. That’s...” Vomit. “Me.”

“There’s a young lady out here who seem concerned. Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Heurrgggk. “I’ll be out soon,” I panted.

But I wasn’t fine. Even though I was sitting on the floor of a movie theater bathroom stall, puking out was seemed to be every bit of fluid from my body and everything I ate EVER, I was only concerned that this girl would think that I was grossed out by the movie and that I was some kind of wuss who couldn’t handle a little gore. Which is so far from the truth. I love that kind of stuff. But I was so afraid that she would think otherwise.

I stood at the sink, still in exquisite pain but no longer nauseated, splashing water on my face, and rinsing out my mouth, all the while going over how I was going to explain what was happening so it didn’t sound like some lame excuse to make myself not seem like a squeamish milquetoast.

I came out of the bathroom and she was standing there, genuinely concerned.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “But we’re going to have to go. I have a really bad headache and I was throwing up in the bathroom. It’s not because of the movie, just so you know. I don’t get grossed out at stuff like that. I just get these really bad headaches.” On the way home (she drove), through searing pain, I told her my history, what had happened earlier in the day, apologizing for ruining the date, and reiterating that it wasn’t the scene in the movie that made me sick. But, she was happy to have just spent time with me.

We eventually married 8 years later.

But, I don’t want to leave you hanging there, all worried that I still suffer from these headaches that make me wish for the sweet release that only death can bring. Because I don’t get them anymore. In 1988, my mom suggested I go to a chiropractor to see if he could do anything for me. As it turns out, I didn’t have the proper spinal curvature in my neck. After twice a week visits for a year, I have not had one of my headaches since 1989 (knock wood).