“I have a migraine” is not a lie. Guestblog of The Mindful Migraine

When I was in my 20s, I worked in the headquarters of a large Australian retail company, project managing the construction of their stores across the country.  It was a great job, because I got flown around Australia, and OK, I wasn’t in holiday mode, but I got to see every state of Australia (except Tasmania).  It was also NOT a great job, in the sense that there were a lot of moving parts to my role, and they moved quickly.  At that time, however, I was a perfectionist who not only managed the high workload, I thrived in the stressful environment.  Very rarely, I experienced a migraine attack. 

There was one day, however, when I got one at work.  I was sitting at my desk, looking out the window, when a large truck drove past and in a weird moment of negative-serendipity, the sparkly-doo-dad that was hanging from the rearview mirror spun around and caught the sun’s rays and reflected it back with laser-like intensity straight into my eye.  The pain was intense, and I knew in an instant – I was going to get a migraine.

I wrote my name and home address on a piece of paper and asked one of the secretaries (they were a big thing back then) to call me a taxi-cab. I needed to go home – pronto!  My boss caught wind of it and as we headed for the front door, and noticed that the way I walked had already changed, and I was struggling to get my words out.  I mumbled to him, “please tell the driver I’m not drunk or on drugs, I just have a migraine – make sure he takes me home”. 

[I had previously been denied a lift by another cab-driver who assumed the worst of me, and even went so far as to give me a “shame on you” lecture because it was only 10am in the morning.]

I made it home that day, slept it off, and was back at work a couple of days later.  Back then, my migraine pain-scale often went from 0 to 7+ in a few minutes and my migraines lasted the ‘typical’ 72 hours.

At the same office, there was a receptionist at the front counter who would have been in her 50s (the same age as me now – but – twice my age back then (and as such, she was, “positively ancient”!)).  I remember her being a super-efficient ‘machine’ – she was always taking phone calls, typing letters, accepting deliveries, rarely coming out from behind her desk, never seemingly working up a sweat, and most importantly, always smiling (a potentially fixed-in-place smile, but a smile nonetheless.)

One day, as I walked past this receptionist, she looked uncommonly glum.  I stopped to ask her if she was ok.  She shook her head and replied, “I have a migraine.”

I’m ashamed to admit it – but my first thought, in big, bold, flashing, neon-colored lights, was: “LIAR!”

When I had a migraine (back then), walking and talking were a struggle, as I mentioned above.  All my effort went into staying upright and not throwing up on myself.  There was ZERO chance that I could work at a public reception counter and have a migraine at the same time… Z-E-R-O.

Being a bratty 20-something year old, I decided to call the crazy old lady’s bluff.  I told her I also got migraines and asked her what medication she took.  She reached into her bag and pulled out the same brand of tablets I used.  The neon sign in my head faded a little bit.  Hmph.  Before I had a chance to double down, she pulled a second box out of her bag and said, “when I feel like I’m going to vomit and won’t be able to keep the tablet down, I use this instead… it’s a suppository… do you want to take one home to try?”

[And yes, it was a very awkward, ikky moment. (A suppository delivers a drug in a manner which bypasses your digestion system – usually by, well… let’s say, you sit on it.) The idea of borrowing someone else’s suppository – albeit brand new – is not great.]

Her approach to migraine-management appeared ‘next-level’ to me, and I discovered a new-found respect for her, and decided she really did get migraines.  I was still very confused about her version of a migraine, but the neon-light in my head that had screamed ‘liar’ finally switched off.

Fast-forward 30 years. Now I’m a ‘crazy old lady’ in my 50s who gets migraines that don’t look anything like a ‘typical’ migraine.  For the last 2+ years, I have had low-level, non-stop pain in my migraine-eye. The pain can often sit for days around 1-2, sometimes moving up to a 3 or 4 where I feel like my head is in a vice, and my neck gets stiff. Sometimes there’s brain-fog, sometimes not. Occasionally, the pain spills over and escalates to a 5 or 6 and I have to spend the day in bed.  It means that for a lot of the week I can SIMULTANEOUSLY have a migraine AND type and answer phone calls, and if push came to shove, I could reluctantly run a receptionist’s desk… for a little while (the relentless pain still makes me a bit too tired and cranky to be the public face of a company 9 to 5).  I can honestly say that I have been writing and researching a PhD for the last 2 years whilst also experiencing a non-stop migraine.

I wish I could go back to that day at the receptionist’s counter and do it all over again.

In the redo, when she told me she had a migraine, I would empathize not criticize. I would be supportive not suspicious.  I would 100% give her the benefit of the doubt.  Mostly, I would admire her resilience and commitment to show up to work regardless of the pain she must have been in.

When someone tells you they have a migraine – remember that their brain-pain is different to yours – don’t judge, don’t question, don’t compare… just show kindness.

More than anything – never ever assume a person who says “I have a migraine” is lying.

Take care, Linda x