Calling In Sick

Because I know someone will want to ask... NO, I did not write this on a day I had a migraine.  I wrote this out of frustration with a coworker who seemed to think that calling in sick with a migraine was just an excuse to sit at home eating chocolates all day and watching TV... because obviously if I was completely better the next day, I wasn't really sick.

Awakened by the pain
Clap my hand to my mouth
Roll out of bed onto the floor
Crawl—or stumble if I can
To the bathroom
Hurl my guts into the toilet
 
Forgot to turn off my alarm
Now every quiet beep
Is like a dagger in my skull
My hand reaching is guided by instinct
It smashes blindly again and again
Until the beeping stops
 
Because when a migraine hits
I can’t string two thoughts together
Even “the clock is THERE, turn it off”
Gets garbled by the pain
Calling in sick is managed only
By training my body to act on its own
 
Training it to roll over
And puke into the bucket
Even though movement
Makes me want to
Puke up all my organs
Just to be done with it
 
I've trained my body
To act without thought:
Trained my hand
To reach, open up my cell phone
The light slams into me
Like some kind of
Judo kick in the head
Why do they make these screens
So freaking bright?
Hit the speed dial
Why do the numbers beep so loud
Even in silent mode?
And why does my boss
Answer the phone shouting?
My mind moans in agony
As she tells me to speak up.
Why can’t she hear me?
I’m screaming and it makes it worse!
Hand on the side of my head
Trying to hold it together
As grenades explode within
 
I've trained my body
To act without thought:
Even though it’s hot
With a pillow over my head
It can stop some of the noises
That smash and tear and
Scramble my brain to mush
 
I've trained my body
To act without thought:
To never, NEVER turn on a light
I won’t notice a stubbed toe
Until I see it bruised tomorrow
Doesn’t even register right now
Every nerve in my body is tuned in to my head
 
Took me an eternity
To remember what the doctor said
So I feel my way, lurching to the bathroom
In search of the codeine-laced cough syrup
That might help calm my stomach
If I can keep it down
 
Stagger the seven and a half steps
To fall back into my womb
Where dark, silent immobility
May not bring relief
But at least
Helps me deal with the pain
 
Lying there
Each second seems like a day
Each rustle of the covers is
A new drummer beating on my brain
And when the sun sends light through the drapes
I close eyes filled with pain-caused tears
 
Thirteen lifetimes later
I might begin to feel better
No longer wanting to kill myself
Just to end the pain
But I don’t want to do anything either
Just surviving has left me totally drained
 
Some of my coworkers understand
Some of them have suffered too
And felt the nails being driven into their skulls
Hammered again and again by a sadist
Named migraine
 
But others seem to think
That I just want the day off
That I can do what I want (as if!)
I think next time
I’ll invite them over
So that they can help me clean up
All the vomit
So they can see the intense misery—
Misery that even outranks
Car wrecks in my memory
 
Then again,
Maybe not.
I’d never stand the noise