Where's King Kong when you need him

Unfortunately for me and all those who have to deal with me on a daily basis, I've been a damsel in distress as of late.

For the last 8 days — that's right, 8 days — I've been suffering migraine headache after migraine headache.

I've suffered with migraines for several years. Each year they get a little worse.

I've tried many remedies and preventatives: anti-depressants, hormones, blood-pressure medication, anti-seizure medication, acupuncture, yoga. Some helped a little, some made them worse, some were too expensive to continue, some helped a lot but the side-effects were too dangerous.

I'd like to think that I suffer with grace and dignity, all perfect hair, never-smudged makeup and flowing diaphanous gown.

But the reality is that I'm more Homer Simpson than Fay Wray.

I've never been good at suffering.

I act like a child, all whiny and petulant. I've even been known to stomp my feet — it's surprising how good that feels initially, but once I come to terms with the fact that nothing good comes from stomping, I just feel like a boob holding a sock full of sand.

But I manage to get to work every day and suffer through 8 hours of piercing pain in my head that is often usurped by the always-rumbling nausea.

It's sucks like hot ass, like paper cuts and lemon juice, like flooded basements and smashed cars, like crab fishing and dying in a bar fight. It sucks like nothing has ever sucked before.

I've had the cat scans, MRIs, blood tests, blah, blah and they all reveal the same thing ... that I just get migraines for the sake of having migraines. No brain tumor or spinal cysts. No reason that can be fixed.

Sometimes I get despondent and desperate. Sometimes I'm accepting of my plight (rarely). There's nothing that can be done. I know this, but still there are the days that I wish a giant gorilla hand swipe me out of this suffering, casting off my migrainey shelll like a hermit crab's too-small shell.