I remember my very first migraine. I was 11 years old and having a picnic in my front yard with some friends, when suddenly, each friend had only half a face. Laughing, I told my mom on the front porch that I could only see half of her face too! Her smile fell and she told me I'd better come inside. Having suffered migraines herself since the age of 11, she knew what I was in for.
Today, the punk came up to me and started talking, but I didn't hear a word he said because he only had one eye. The feeling that comes over me when I realize I have lost my vision can only be described as dread. In one second, all plans for my day vanish and I know I'll be useless and miserable for the next 8 hours, and "hung over" for the following 24.
With the help of my man, who took over everything I was supposed to be doing, I have survived yet another awful migraine. (This was by no means the worst, but they are all awful.) My vision has been restored. And it's a good thing too, because when your punk has eyes like the sea after a storm (name that movie), you want to see both of them.