To Live or Die with Migraine

A few months ago I watched a very touching documentary about patients in Oregon with terminal illnesses who have either decided to end their lives through assisted suicide or to battle through the illness until the bitter end.  As I sat and witnessed each person's story, I couldn't help but understand the decision to end a life of suffering.  I could totally relate.  No, I'm not a cancer patient or someone with failing organs or going through the ups and downs of a terminal illness.  


But I DO have a chronic illness.  One that brings me such insanely intense pain that each minute of it always feels like it's going to kill me.  When you begin to think that a gunshot to the head would be a welcome relief you know that the pain is BAD.  So when I think about my future, I'm very concerned that it will most definitely include 15 or more attacks a month like I have now.  How am I supposed to have a life or will I ever have one?  I've been somewhat obsessing about my life always being filled with pain.  I sit here now with a bag of ice on my head and incredibly nauseous and wishing for it all to go away.  


I'm not feeling very hopeful at this point since I just recently finished an intense round of prednisone to break the months long attack I was having and here I sit still in pain.  I wouldn't wish this on my worse enemy.  How can I look into my future and not see my present?  So, I don't see much difficulty if it came to it to choose to end life on my own terms.  When pain becomes the adjective that describes your life it becomes extremely difficult to find the hope between the small cracks that represent the often few pain-free moments.  I can honestly say that I do find comfort in that.  Maybe because it's a choice that I would have control over when this disease makes so many for me.  After many types of treatment, medications, ER and urgent care visits, doctors, diets, supplements, alternatives, and countless counseling sessions I already feel like enough is enough.  


I know that I should be hopeful for a treatment that will work; grateful for the life that I do have and appreciate the fact that I wake up every morning.  Yet, after so many months of disappointment I'm not feeling much of any of those things.  It's a very hard and stressful road that I travel along and the obstacles have been getting much more difficult to traverse.  I'm coming to a point where I don't want to jump the hurdles anymore.  I know depression has a hand in the way that I feel but my body is telling me it's tired.  It's whispering, "No more please.  I can't take much more."  It's all very cumbersome and I wish for myself that my future years will be much better than the ones I have struggled through so far.  For now, I'll continue to lay in my bed with my bag of ice and hope that tomorrow won't be as bad.