Sunday morning brought me a milkshake migraine. Really the best kind. The only kind that are worth getting, if indeed a migraine headache is ever worth enduring. An epic champion of a hangover and yet I remember exactly how and where the hangover came from. It was the white chocolate milkshake with red sprinkles and a maraschino cherry on top. Swirls of red dye#40 leeching into a mass of chilled ice cream and flavored syrup. To you it’s just a milkshake, but to me it was the conscious decision to indulge in a headache inducer. And savor every second of the bender. As a person who lives on the steady diet of Grape Nuts and Imitrex, this was a party. Now, I’m in Sunday morning repentance. Sipping coffee slowly and watching Face The Nation. Caffeine and Bob Schieffer will sober a wayward soul right up.
I told the doctor a month ago that my headache had been active since 1978, which is mostly true. When you’ve had the issue that long, an MRI isn’t indicated because the doctors figure if the headache hasn’t killed you by now, it won’t ever. During the headache age I’ve learned some truths that serve me well. The first insight is that if I’m going to indulge, do it fully and with great gusto. Take milkshakes, for example. No cheating with fake shakes. I go to the establishment that has milkshake happy hour. There, I find the hardcore, lifetime shakers. People who represent the 80% addiction relapse statistics. We cower at the counter over a frothy drink. They don’t get migraines, those hearty drinkers. Me, I know that I’ll go home to my supportive wife, a headache and more Grape Nuts. I count the Imitrex tabs carefully, timing the hangover. Smiling after the best shake ever.