When I’m trapped at work with a migraine, I often find myself daydreaming about drive thru hospitals with injection pain medication on the dollar menu and I long for migraine hotels where doctors can be ordered like room service.
Yesterday, I found my mental musings were not working. My pain was too bad. My head felt as if it was filled with throbbing, burning brimstone. The coals on my brain stem were setting my hair on fire.
The only relief I found was eating little graham crackers that were shaped like teddy bears. I used my mouth like a giant cave, inhaling the legions, trying to distract myself. Barely chewing them, I found they were gone in one bite or two.
Suddenly, there was a four-alarm slice of pain through my skull. I ran to the bathroom, darted into a stall, slammed the door shut, and tossed my cookies in the waiting commode.
A moment later, I looked at the mass, watery grave of the little cookies. I could see the heads and limbs. Back in the light of day, the little bear friends, family and loved ones were staring in horror at what had happened to them.
Traumatized by this sight, I flushed them back into darkness, and I staggered back to my desk. The half-eaten bag of bears still lingered on my desk.
I sat down and pulled one bear out of the bag, and I peered into his tiny innocent face, realizing that I would just have to chew them better.