Headache

Last night I had a headache.

Oh, not a run of the mill headache.  One of those that seems to send a tube of liquid fire through the back of your head, making you think it will explode.  You can feel it pulse and swear your skull has expanded just a fraction to accommodate the pulse.

I'm not one who is given to a great deal of headaches, even more so those that are of an extreme nature.  I hardly know what to do - to take something goes against my general rule of taking anything, but the pain can be so intense.

I run through the list:  Did I not have coffee today (I did, maybe not enough?)?  Have I been feeling poorly?  Has anyone in my house been sick, something that might have passed on to me?  Have I eaten anything that I usually don't?  Did I get enough water today?

So all the questions were "yes", but just because the questions are answered does nothing to relieve the pain.  I try to distract myself in hopes that I can ignore it.  No luck there:  the waves just come and go, causing me to sink further and further into my covers in hopes that relaxing will make it go away.

And it doesn't.  It's become the worst kind of headache of all:  the kind that is still with you even while you sleep. 

It kicks up from time to time:  you suddenly awake and there it is, pulsing.  Mentally you want to cry out loud (although it's night and disturbing to others):  it's simply not fair that when I'm trying to rest to get rid of it that it's still here!

And then, somewhere about 4 AM, it's gone. 

But is it?  Even now, as I go about my morning, I can almost feel it in the back of my head, lurking ready to attempt to break out in a random act of pain and suffering.  Headaches - at least this kind - shouldn't be allowed to remain.  Like the flu, they should come and go.

Yet here it remains, silently torturing me, reminding me of how little, in reality, we control of our physical selves.