I’ve spent most of today with a migraine.
I did what every idiot migraine sufferer since the beginning of time has done to deal with it: I took an Advil. Then I drank a cup of tea, because the caffeine is supposed to be good for migraines (or, it can also be bad (isn’t that cool? I think doctors need a new word with which to answer questions about these sorts of things – that word could be “yesno” – as in: “Hey, doc. I heard that caffeine can help migraines. Is this true? Should I drink tea when I’m getting a migraine?” to which the doctor could respond with a confident, “Yesno, Bobby.”)).
An hour later, I thought what every migraine sufferer since the beginning of time has thought after taking Advil and drinking a cup of tea: “Ouch.”
Yeah. It still hurts. The Advil and the tea don’t do much. The best part about the Advil is that it’s sugar-coated, and I rather like the tea, but for the pain, confusion, and nausea, the pill and the drink don’t do it. It seems to me that it would be about as useful as giving Vicks VapoRub to an ebola victim.
You: Hey, I just got back from the store, and I’ve got your Vicks VapoRub.
Your Friend With Ebola: Cool. Thanks. I needed that. My kidneys just dissolved, and I was, like, “Where’s that jerk with my VapoRub?!”
[both laugh]
Your Friend With Ebola: Yeah. You’re a pretty good friend, you know that?
You: Ah, it’s nothing. Oh, and, not to be rude, but would you mind liquefying on the linoleum instead of the carpet? I don’t mind you staying here for the next couple days, but let’s try to keep it clean. My parents are coming into town this weekend, and I don’t want to have to rent a wet/dry vac.
Your Friend With Ebola: Oh, ha ha. I didn’t notice. Ah, I see – it’s just one of my lungs. I had a coughing fit a little while ago, and I felt something dislodge. That must have been it. Anyway, get over here and help me rub this Vicks VapoRub on my chest. I’m sure it’ll cure what’s ailing me.
And so on.
The point here is, there’s a right tool for the job, and Advil isn’t it (nor is Vicks VapoRub).
What I wonder is why…
WHY, WHY, WHY, WHY, WHY, WHY, WHY, WHY, WHY…
WHY can’t I just run down to the store and pick up some of this stuff?
See, that would do something about the pain in my head.
And, I know, I know – there are “issues” with selling intravenously delivered opiate concentrations over the counter, but, HELLO-O-O-O-O:
PUT A WARNING LABEL ON IT, YOU SLAPTARDS.
Just put a nice little label on the box that says something like, “May completely destroy life” or “Slightly more addictive than cheezee-poofs” (I’ve been eating a lot of cheezee-poofs lately).
Also, I’m not suggesting that we just put this stuff on the bottom shelf next to the Sesame Street Band-Aids. That’d be sick.
The rule will be: No children under the age of twelve may purchase Tylenol Morphine without a note from a parent or guardian.
So what’s the big deal?
Even in the middle of a migraine, I still have to be this mankind’s-last-hope visionary.
Also, while you’re at the store picking up some Tylenol Morphine, you could stop and grab a box of this stuff for your buddy:
I’m sure he’d appreciate it.