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Incident Scene

My car looked like a crime scene. A black Yukon with dark tinted windows parked at a strange angle, the nose of the car pointing straight at my house, thrown into park in a crisis. Driver door left wide open. No driver to be found.

As my husband got closer to the car, he saw vomit all over the steering wheel, chunks splattered inside of the door. Dripping from the speaker.

Whatever happened must have happened in the last hour.

He ran inside to find me laying still, eyes shut, fully clothed, a full face of make-up, hair coiffed with ample TV-ready hairspray.

Yikes, this was a bad one.

No need to call for help, he knew what had hit.

A migraine of monstrous proportions just as I was on deadline for the five o’clock newscast.

The throbbing pain in my head had intensified at about 4:30, and by then it was like an out-of-body experience going to my assistant news director to say my story is in, it’s ready to go, but I can’t go live at five. I’m completely ill.

He said, “Go” with that look of concern he gets when he’s being more human than newshound.

I recall it in a blurry way, I navigated the three flights of stairs to the parking lot, got in my SUV, and made the fastest possible beeline home via the Merritt Parkway. But within one exit, I was erupting. Vomiting while driving, nowhere to pullover. Thinking to myself, this would be a strange way to go. But, figuring I’ll get home some how. It won’t be pretty.

Pretty disgusting. But I know migraine sufferers get it.

I promise I won’t get quite this graphic with my next blog. And I promise to use this blog to help fellow migraine sufferers find ways to deal with their migraines, whether it’s sharing ways to tamp-down the start of the headache when it hits or reporting on a new study or describing treatments including medication-free help.

Signed,

The Migrainer

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