Symptons

Dear M,

I had meant to wish you the very best of luck with your knee operation today, but I’m afraid you will not read this before the blessed event. Once again, I was eliminated by a severe migraine this morning. It’s a very strange affliction with me, or so I think. It manifests itself differently in each person of course. My mother hasn’t got it at all, and neither does my brother. My father has it though. With him, quite often even for a number of days or longer. And you used to have it too, I clearly remember. Do you still? Anyway, in me, the thing displays strange, for me unheard of, phenomena. That’s why I want to write them down.

It doesn’t always, but it often goes like it did this morning. The announcement came last night (11pm): seeing blind spots and a ‘funny feeling’, some sort of exorbitant excitement with a ‘half-headache’. This morning, I woke up after wildsavagedenserampantcrazy dreams, and an unduly long sleep (10am). Fullblown headache.

Dragging downstairs… quickly two tablets of paracetamol and ibuprofen with instant coffee (because I diagnosed that caffeine deficiency was at the root of this ordeal, since I hadn’t drank any coffee yesterday, instead of my usual morning dose of five). Then I sat in my chair (10.15 pm) waiting for the pills to kick in, ready for the storm…

The second phase is worse: the headache steadily building up strength, with developing an intolerance for even the minutest photon of light (closing the curtains, hand pressing down hard over my eyeballs)… total incapacitation… lying down as much as my chair allows, even rolling on my side… rolling and getting chilly, shivering, having strange visions… from endless illuminating, fluorescent blue plains to naked bodies with ladies performing graceful indecencies upon themselves… cold darkgreen seas and a bunch of bearded Little Men in an Oompah Band…

Headache getting worse even, rolling in my chair, hands over my closed eyes… getting the urge to vomit (don’t worry, dear boy, my record still stands since that terrible day in October 1996 in the Sarphatistraat in Amsterdam. And you were there!)… Hovering between daydreams and unconsciousness… And then, suddenly, literary within a scope of three to five minutes… it's gone! Complete relief. This was 12.30pm. As if a storm had been raging at war power, just to stop instantly. Very strange. I got up from my chair, a bit shaky with a dull feeling in my head, but 95% better than the 3 minutes before. Have you ever heard of such a thing?

My oh my, it seems stupid, cruel and wrong of me to write to you about my own petty ailments, after your horrible operation I mean, but I hoped you found it interesting, or even amusing. Anyway, I hope your operation went like a snip and you’ll recover quickly, running the marathon like a Kenyan, beating Mike Powell’s long jump record, outtapping Fred Astaire, be a Sherpa, hauling tonnes up the Himalayas… et cetera et cetera. So I wish you a kickass operation with dropdead sexy nurses, flowers and kisses from your wife, eternal fridge-drawings from your children and lots of icecream afterwards… love you.