I'm angry

I've spent most of this week trying to stop the mattress from escaping from my bed. Actually, I was in bed because I was suffering from the mother of all migraines. I have had migraines before, and they were horrible, but nothing like this. If you don't experience migraines then I don't expect you to understand. If you do, then you may well be saying "I feel your pain, Brother." but you don't. Unless you have spent four days with your head in an ever-tightening vice, throwing up everything you tried to eat or drink, then been admitted to hospital and put on an intra-veinous drip, wishing the whole time that someone would cut off your leg with a hacksaw to take your mind off the agony, you haven't even felt a pin-prick of my pain, so stop whining.

For me, the worst thing about migraines is that there is no rhyme or reason to them. Some sufferers have identified their own migraine triggers, which they can avoid, but for most of us there is no known cause. It's just random; they attack without warning and with extreme prejudice, and that's what makes me angry.

For most things in my life there is cause and effect. If I have a hangover, I drank too much. If I have sunburn, I stayed in the sun too long. If I fart too much, I can blame the fried bean burritos that I ate the night before. But a migraine is cruel and unusual punishment for no reason at all, and that's not fair. In fact, it's infuriating.

Much better now, thank you for asking.