To the doctor again, for more sumatriptan. This time it was the French-speaking one and, barring a few gargled verbs, I managed a conversation. The trick was not to think it out in advance. Or maybe all I can talk about in French is migraines.
Again I was filled with the terror that I would not be given my drugs. Perhaps I can explain this more fully:
For the most part, I'm sickeningly healthy, except for this one thing. I got my first migraine when I was 12. A typical one would go - wake up feeling like someone had buried a machete in your head during the night, and then start vomiting. The machete would stay there all day, sometimes shifting position a bit. The vomiting would be roughly every half an hour, all day. Nothing would stay down, but it's surprising how much stuff an unfed stomach makes. When the vomit started being greenish, I knew the attack was coming to an end. Normally, the attack would last all day, and was accompanied by sensitivity to light, to smells, to sounds, and an inability to talk coherently. Some might say that the latter is normal for me anyway.
For most of my life the attacks were roughly every three months which was sort of manageable. The attacks themselves, however, were utterly dreadful and had somebody offered me euthanasia during one, I would probably have accepted. This went on for about 35 years, and then they became more frequent.
Fortunately somebody had discovered sumatriptan. Unfortunately I couldn't take it because I was on mental tablets (SSRIs). Once I was off those, I started the triptans. Without exaggeration they have changed my life. If I catch the attack early enough, I can ward it off. My only concern is that the attacks are very frequent. Oh, and the fear of being caught without my meds.
I recall coming back from Paris on a train, train, ferry and train a couple of years ago (broken Eurostar) with a migraine that lasted three days. I spent the entire day with my coat over my head. Never would I be caught without meds again. Finally I went squinting to Boots and they gave me something over the counter without question - I can only think I looked so fucking ill that they took pity on me. Normally you have to fill in a questionnaire.
So that's it really. I need to see a specialist. But in the meantime I have a prescription for shitloads of drugs.