An asset to the communist party

I had my first migraine at age nine. I was in fourth grade, sitting outside Mr. Carberry’s class working on a project. It was classic migraine – a blinding headache that one can distract oneself from for short periods of time. Since it was near the end of the day, I didn’t go to the nurse. When I got home, I told my mother about it and went upstairs to grab a pillow so I could lie on the couch. While upstairs, I got sick. My mom told me that my grandma had headaches like this – “headaches so bad they make you sick,” but it wasn’t until after college that I first sought treatment and received something stronger than Advil.

Part of the diagnosis process was a careful monitoring of triggers, where I developed the sadly long list that now dictates my behavior. It contains things as demanding as alterations in sleep schedule and regular meals, as insidious as sitting in a position that requires me to turn my head (like sitting perpendicular to a speaker), and as stupid as having my hair pulled back in a ponytail for too long.

Despite my feeble head, I’m proud to say I’m a poster child for health.* I never get colds bad enough to skip work, I’ve never had the flu, I can count on one finger the number of times I’ve had the stomach flu/food poisoning since elementary school, I can eat the spiciest curries or half a pound of chocolate with no ill affects, I’ve never broken a bone, I have excellent eyesight, and I’ve never been in the hospital or to the emergency room or even urgent care.

[Rereading this list makes me feel as if I'm trying to convince you to that I am of good mating stock (maybe it's all that working with a cat breeder) or convince you that I'd be a good little worker for the Communist party.]

*In case you were wondering, I never was one of those obnoxious children with perfect attendance. Although I didn’t need to stay home, I certainly did when nursing an impressive-sounding cough.