For the past month, my life has been what those pre-med kids call, “A living hell.” No, I haven’t moved to Iraq or taken up organic chemistry – I have been subjected to a constant stream of migraine headaches. To put it eloquently, migraines really suck the big one. For me, it feels as if one side of my brain is locked into a vice and then placed between the bellies of two charging sumo wrestlers. In addition, the headaches are frequently accompanied by what is called in medical terms, puking my guts out and “I think I’ve gone blind in one eye” vision.

However, the worst symptom that comes along with my migraines is the massive denial. For some odd reason, I am always reluctant to admit that I am about to experience five hours of blinding pain.

Perhaps my worst bout of migraine denial occurred while shopping in Victoria’s Secret about two years ago. I hate shopping, so for me to do it a number of factors have to magically coincide – I need to feel extra attractive, feel skinny, be cheery, have money, be willing to spend that money, have a lot of energy and be shot with a rare shopping arrow from the moon goddess Polixishinay of the Supercharged Helix religion.

A coordination of these factors is very rare, but on that day I awoke and bam, it hit me – I wanted to go shopping.

I sprinted down to the Victoria’s Secret on Broadway, determined to find nice underwear before my rare condition changed. I eagerly sifted through piles of cute and sexy under-things, thinking to myself thoughts that rarely enter my mostly un-girly mind like, “OMG this is like so cute!” And then it happened – an aura, i.e. a swirling mass in one eye. On the one day I finally had the will to shop, I was struck with a migraine headache. I ground my teeth. This was not happening. I needed new underwear and by God, I was going to get it, migraine or not.

So I did what any other sane, or in my case insane, person would do in my situation – I frantically continued to sift through the piles of panties, denying the fact that I was about to get the life squeezed from my head. I was fine! No headache! It didn’t matter that I couldn’t see what I was buying, by God, I was going to buy it. This was my one shopping day a year!

It wasn’t long, though, before I couldn’t fool myself any longer. After asking a mannequin about a sale price, I figured it was time to get out of there.

With one eye blind, I paid as fast as I could, sprinted back to my apartment, collapsed on my bed and submitted to the pain and vomiting.

Five hours later, I awoke shaking, sweating and exhausted with only a remnant of the former, life-draining headache. I had just wandered through a desert of undying pain, taunted again and again by the howling winds of pain receptor torture, and for what? Why had I been made to endure such undying pain? What had I done so wrong? What good could possibly come of this?

Suddenly, I saw it. Yes, a heavenly light shone over a Victoria’s Secret bag thrown hastily into the corner. Peeking out of that bag was a swath of black lace. Intrigued, I pulled the lace from the bag. In an instant, my breath was stolen from my body. There in my shaking, pale hand was the most beautiful pair of underwear I had ever seen.

Through some divine intervention, I had managed to buy this divine creature while blind in one eye! Not only did this mean I had now had access to instant sex appeal, but it also meant I wouldn’t have to go shopping for another year! I lay the panties gently down on the bed and stared at them in wonder.

For once in my life, I believed in God. A wave of newfound spirituality washed over my shaking, soul-ridden body. Then I started to cry and called my doctor for a renewal of my migraine meds.

So, what’s the moral of the story here? Migraine headaches are pretty much the worst thing that could ever happen to you. But if you are struck with one, get to Victoria’s Secret as fast as you can. There might be a nice pair of panties in it for you.

Kaminsky can be reached

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