musings from the sickbed

Saturday night, too many drinks. Some first-year university student is firmly attatched to my backside as I dance, but I'm drunk and happy, so I let him. I'm with friends, I'm having a "Saturday night" with no inhabitions, and as I trip home at two in the morning, I feel at one with all the other revellers lining up for hot dogs or pizza, anything to soak up the excesses starting to rear their consequences on health and decision making.

And at approximately five in the morning, I wake up. With a migraine.

I've suffered from migraines all my life. I used to get them a lot as a kid, brought on by hypersensivity, and tension. I would spend hours, vomiting and writhing in agony, my family standing by in case there was anything they could do to ease my pain. But these are migraines, ain't nothing you can do but pray for the end.

The funny thing is, when I get sick with such a concentrated bout of suffering, my life does flash before my eyes. I count the seconds till the naseau subsides, for moments of normality I'd previously enjoyed unnoticed. I wonder if this is what death feels like, or if this compares to the pain of childbirth. I would sign just about any document or commit to any type of illegal activity just to make the hurt go away. And my heart swells so full of love for the poor family members that stand by me and offer words of support and advice as I stare pathetically up at them from the bathroom floor.

This time, I called my sister. It was the first time I've had a migraine away from home, and I haven't called my parents. I called her. "Let me finish stuffing this bagel down my gob, I'll be right over". She was at her boyfriend's house, I was undoubtably disturbing their cozy Sunday morning, but sure enough, within half an hour, she was there, rubbing my back and bringing me ice packs, staying on hold with TeleHealth Ontario to find out if I needed to see a doctor. She cancelled her plans with her boyfriend to stay with me. It was exactly what I needed, it's something no pill or promise of better health could do. Make me feel safe and loved, amidst the physical manifestations of all the insecurity and heartsickness I've been feeling of late.

Something sweet came of all this. I was reminded of my childhood, and the way my mother would look after me when I was struck with migraines. There would always be her soft hand smoothing my forehead. A glass of apple juice on the night table. A popsicle melting in a bowl. Cool sheets on my bed. And when relief and sleep would overcome me, she'd turn out the lights, close my door just enough so that some light from the hallway would keep me company, and I'd hear her and my father talking and making dinner downstairs. There is no greater thing you can give a child but that. That sense of being cared for. It's the gold of parenthood.

Those days are gone now, but I was brought back to them by my sister, who is the closest I have to a mom now. I know she will move out one day, and live with her boyfriend, and I will have to learn how to save myself, but for now, I will let myself indulge in those tenderest of moments when I can forget just how much life has changed.