Why bang your head when all you need is a Panadol
Much of the last week, I have felt like my body was a lot older than it is. Oh lord, my creaky bones, my achy throat, burning forehead, hurting eyes, aargh, kill me now… And I was thinking, how mundane is physical exhaustion. I would never want to hear about how unwell someone else was. Other people’s medical talk is always a snoozefest — ha, and yet…
I was, grumbling to myself about a ruined Saturday because of a stupid headache. Until this weekend, I had never popped a Panadol. These things are for sick people — sorry, unwell people. I’m not unwell! I don’t usually get headaches. So I don’t keep headache pills in the house. Now, I’m thinking, I need a mini dispensary at hand so that mundane debilitating things don’t mess up 50 per cent of a weekend.
It’s not like I had a wild Friday of partying, the effects of which had spilled over to Saturday. It couldn’t have been hunger because breakfast was posh this week — Baker and Spice; avocado on toast, two poached eggs and a glorious mug of thick, rich hot chocolate (of the top three hot chocolates in Dubai, I swear). And soon after that I was walking in the nonsun, moving my limbs, breathing fresh air, living the healthy life… and a low thrum started. Unbelievable! I felt so letdown by my body’s weeklong tantrums. You know how the initial stage of a headache is so much more tolerable than a full head-banging crescendo? On the GPS map of a headache route, I was a blinking amber light at stage 1. Low thrum. You are here.
I thought if I ignored it, it would go away. I had
It’s not like I had a wild Friday of partying, the effects of which had spilled over to Saturday. It couldn’t have been hunger because breakfast was posh this week — Baker and Spice.
the day planned — attend BoldTalks at DUCTAC, meet a friend for lunch, check out Outlet Village, catch a movie (Asghar Farhadi’s The Salesman is on at Ibn Batuta this week.) None of this happened. You know why? Because I was writhing under the covers with a full mad banger of a headache — crescendo had been reached. Woe became me. I hydrated myself. I ate. Had a coffee. More water. I even had couple of squares of 90 per cent dark chocolate. No luck. I put Vicks Vaporub on my forehead, temples, neck, even on the soles of my feet (!) and went to sleep for two hours. I woke up, hopefully, waiting to check if it had gone. It hadn’t. Damn it! Ginger chai downed, but headache was still up. God help me. How do migraine-surviving people do this? One silly killer headache and my entire Saturday was getting thrown out of gear.
Just as well I had a 6.30 pm doctor’s appointment to get my vitamin D levels tested (outcomes of stories you do). He asked me about body aches, fatigue, eating, sleeping patterns, digestion, and exercise. Told me nausea accompanying headaches is normal. I answered everything. He checked my reflexes, prescribed tests. He thinks I might be D-deficient. I think I’m on the cusp of disagreeing with Socrates with that whole let food be thy medicine spiel. I can’t believe I had to leave the house to go to a doctor who gave me a Panadol, to realise the good sense of just keeping these things in the house.