Greg Henderson

A visit from the migraine fairy

By Greg Henderson

So, the other morning I'm sitting at my desk planning the day's activities, when I get a visit from the migraine fairy. The only thing to do when she comes to visit is go for the ride like it or not. I'll tell you a little bit about her. She's not what you would normally expect out of a little fairy. Not the Tinkerbell, flit around the room with a trail of pixie dust kind of fairy. No, although the Migraine Fairy may come from the same enchanted forest as all those bears, ogres and other talking insects, she never made it through the casting calls at Disney when Walt was around. Today, if she had the interest, she'd probably land a part or two but she's far too busy with the niche market she's carved out for herself with individuals like me to harass. She doesn't look much like Tinkerbell either. I'm probably one of the few that have ever seen her. Unlike the youthful Tinkerbell, or even the tooth fairy for that matter, the migraine fairy looks a little more like a cross between Bea Arthur and a mosquito. She never wears white. Also she's been around longer than those other two put together, giving her the time to perfect her visits, or attacks as they should be referred.

You don't see her but you know the exact instant she appears. Something like a shadow with no darkness that crosses your line of sight. Her venom is a carefully concocted mixture of chemicals with characteristics of posphors seltzer and magnesium which are neatly packaged for time release. Before she even appears, her sights are set and the target is locked. You are defenseless. As she crosses your view she carpet bombs your retina with a shower of granular explosives. They are not physical grains per say but hold a consistency of light without brightness. Some explode on contact emitting a wonderful little fireworks show across your vision. Others are quickly washed down the drain of the optic nerve where they collect at the junctions of the first synapses of the brain. It can take anywhere from ten minutes to a half hour for this regrouping to occur. If you're new to the game, you watch the fireworks with confusion. If you've been through it a couple of times, you spend the time in disbelief and denial. If you're experienced in the process, you'll be cursing and getting your affairs in order.

Then the collective bomb goes off. The next twelve to eighteen hours will have an effect that will make slamming your finger in a car door a day at the spa. That fairy bitch is nowhere to be found. Probably too busy a schedule or perhaps she's just locked into a contract and not actually ghoulish enough to want to hang around to witness the effects. Makes you wonder what she does in her spare time.

(Greg Henderson, Ronda's Migraine Page, October 27, 2004)

top