A month of migraines but I can’t feel pain

Some mornings I can’t open my eyes. At its worst, I’m lying in a fetal position, blanket over my entire body, hand over my face praying the pain goes away. I’ve already taken the prescription pill on my bedside, the pill that’s supposed to make this better in less than ten minutes. I count the seconds because it’s something else to focus on, something other than the what feels like screws being drilled into my brain.

On those days, the dark is more precious than the light that eventually filters through my window. Forcing my eyes open hurts. Opening and closing my jaw to eat hurts.

But none of that matters because I can’t feel pain.

This is the fourth week of suffering. The migraines come and go over the course of a day, then into the night, back into the next morning. Staring at my computer screen too long hurts, which has meant I haven’t been able to write every morning. Which means I’ve been able to do very little writing the past four weeks. Not writing has been its own kind of suffering, a special kind that has proven how much I depend on writing to bring joy and fulfilment into my life.

So, you see, I can’t feel pain.

My first published novel comes out this month. I have a book launch to lead, literary festivals to attend, millions of books to sell (you know me…