My Worst Migraine Episode
“What was my worst migraine episode?” That’s a tough question to answer. Over the course of 6 decades, I’ve had many of those episodes. In my early migraine years, I hated missing fun with family and friends because of a migraine attack. I didn’t like it when I couldn’t carry out my responsibilities at work either. All those situations were in the running for my worst episode, but none really stood out.
In my later migraine years, knowledge and a good plan have eased my migraine life. Thanks to my migraine management plan, which includes trigger avoidance and prescription medicine, I rarely miss activities or have to grant myself a sick day. I have fewer episodes that I would put in the category of worst. There are times, however, when plans don’t go according to plan.
My abortive triptan tablet works most effectively if taken at the earliest sign of a migraine attack. I know my body’s typical symptom sequence, and I don’t wait around before taking the medication. Occasionally, I have an attack that progresses rapidly. It’s too fast for the tablet to do anything more than decrease the pain for a brief time. When this happens, I turn to my abortive sumatriptan injection that faithfully works in 12 minutes every time I’ve used it.
Just such a scenario occurred after dinner one evening. I swallowed a tablet and went to bed, but the tablet didn’t work. I pulled the autoinjector out of the drawer and noticed the shot had expired several months ago. I had nothing left in my arsenal except to try to sleep it off, the way I did when I was a teenager. A couple of hours later, I woke to worsening pain and nausea.
Of course, vomiting arrived next. Lying curled up in a ball on the bathroom floor, wrapped in a blanket, I waited for the next round of nausea. The pain was excruciating. By this time, it was about 11 p.m. My husband drove me to the emergency room for a shot. This is when the interrogation began.
How could the medical professionals not understand how difficult it was to answer questions when my head felt like it was splitting apart? I didn’t understand why they thought I might be a junkie looking to score a high. All I needed was a sumatriptan injection that, to the best of my knowledge, is not something that makes a person high. Since it was hard for me to think straight, all I could do was trust the medical staff to know what they were doing.
While they were deciding whether to believe my motives, I asked for a pan that I could vomit in, if necessary. They gave me a pill for the nausea. That was one symptom taken care of, which I took as progress. Eventually, the nurse came back in with a syringe. Hallelujah! The doctor decided to believe me. The injection wasn’t sumatriptan though. It was some sort of narcotic. That explains the interrogation.
Several hours and about $900 later, I could barely walk to the car, but the pain and nausea were gone. I don’t know what narcotic they gave me, but it knocked me for a loop. I had to call in sick to work that day. There was no way I was going to be able to function at work. I spent most of the day recuperating in bed.
I learned some valuable lessons that night/morning. The next time I went to the emergency room for migraine treatment, I insisted on a sumatriptan injection. No narcotics for me. I got what I needed, and life got back to normal. I’ve tried to keep a better eye on my autoinjector’s expiration date, too. I hope my next worst episode won’t be something worth writing about, but who knows? Plans don’t always work according to plan.
Originally published at WebMD.com on 9-4-24.
