How do I loathe thee. Let me count the ways.
First of all, you owe me a lot of money. There was that law school tuition for a degree I’ll never get to use. The money I spent studying for and taking the bar exam. At least half a dozen emergency room bills.
I was denied insurance so many times because of you. Remember that, my precious pre-existing condition? All of this has to add up to at least a couple hundred thousand dollars.
But you’ll never pay me. I’ll never see that money. And you know what’s the worst part? People don’t even think you exist.
Sure, they mean well. “How’s your head?” “How have your headaches been?” It’s polite conversation from well-meaning people who are uninformed and don’t know what else to say.
They don’t realize that this is a serious neurological disease and not just a headache. They don’t know that someday you might give me migrainous stroke. They don’t know that I’m at higher risk of depression and have already had very serious bouts of depression because of you. They don’t know that I’m at a higher risk of suicide because of you and your medications. They don’t realize that doctors, at best, only get two hours of migraine training in school. They don’t remember the time that I almost died from a doctor who mistreated me in an emergency room and called it an “anxiety attack.”
Instead, they just think you, migraines, aren’t anything “serious.” You aren’t cancer. I’m lucky, they say, since it could be worse.
They don’t realize that because of you, I’ve lost opportunities. I’ve lost friends. I’ve lost a career. I’ve missed out on almost an entire decade of my life. You guide every single decision I make and I hate it.
But what can I do? There’s no “cure” or end to you in sight. I’ve made my peace with your existence. I’ve surrounded myself with people who understand and are willing to learn more about you and how to make you go away.
And I keep holding onto the hope that every time I encounter you, it will be the last time.