I Went to the Doctor Only After I Couldn’t Bear the Pain Any Longer—Three Days of Agonising Headaches That No Painkillers Could Touch

I went to see the doctor when I simply couldnt bear the pain anymore. Three days in a rowfar too long. An excruciating headache that wouldnt ease up, no matter how many painkillers I tried. I couldnt even sleep that night. And of course, the worst decision was to go online and look up what might be causing a headache.

Naturally, the search results instantly threw up questions like How to tell a migraine from a brain tumour and an assortment of horrific warning stories. After reading them all and comparing the symptoms, I might as well have gone straight to the undertaker and skipped the GP surgery altogether.

I remembered how Jerome K. Jeromes character once picked up a medical encyclopaedia and realised he had every illness listed except for housemaids kneecholera, anaemia, St. Vitus dance, even foot and mouthending at f as thats where the book finished. He even felt a bit miffed that he didn’t have housemaids knee, only typhoid.

And thats how it was for me. After reading the internet inside out and discovering myself to be fatally ill from every angle, I decided: “Enough is enough! Ill crawl to the doctor tomorrow!”

There in the waiting room I had a rather sweet exchange with a lady.

She asked,
Been drinking?
I blinked in surprise.
Drinking what?
Last night, did you have a drink?
No, I havent touched a drop, I replied defensively.
Its just your eyes are bloodshot, like youve had a bit too much…
Honestly, sometimes I think I go to my therapist just to learn how to talk to people who need a therapist more than I do.

Thank you, I managed, through gritted teeth. For your concern.

I went into the doctors office and, in the manner of an over-formal compere, rattled off my symptoms. The finishing touch was my red cherry-like eyes.

It looks as if Ive been drinking, but I havent, I grumbled, snitching on myself.

The doctor peered into my eyes and shrugged. They look perfectly normal to me. Youre imagining things.

I keep saying: its not always the right people who go to the psychologist.

The doctor checked my blood pressure, pulse, oxygen levels. Asked a string of questions. Judging by my answers, I thought the picture wasnt terribly brightfrankly, not a migraine at all. Something a good deal worse.

Shouldnt we do a brain scan? MRI? Im willing to pay, I suggested. Id seen people online pushing for that. You see, by two in the morning Id earned a one-night online degree in general practice, neurology, and vascular medicineall at once.

Lets not get ahead of ourselves. No need to panicwell check the blood, look at your circulation, try some treatment, and if it gets any worse, well take further steps.

That night on the internet, I was convinced it couldnt possibly get any worse. I cried quietly, thinking that in forty years Id only managed to produce two children and ten books. I couldnt decide whether that was a lot or not.

The children, though, are still youngnot quite finished. The books arent perfect either. In the new one, theres a typo smack on page sixteen. Still so much work to do raising my children and my editors…

After the doctor, I collected the children on the way home, picked up the prescribed tablets, and drank them down. At home, I collapsed into bed.

The kids came in.
Mum, is there anything to eat?
There is, but Ill need to cook. Give me a minute…
By then, my headache had faded, but I had no energy. Three days in bed will do that to you.
Daniel went off and made dinner himselffried up some eggs and reheated the pasta. He said, Ive fed Katie, shall I bring your dinner up to bed?

Suddenly I felt wonderful. My son, all grown up! Complete! Hell be just fine.

No need to bring it, Im not hungry yet. Ill eat later. Youre a star.

Alright, he nodded, and came back in with a plate of chopped fruit. Mum, theres kiwimore vitamin C than oranges. And apples, for the iron. The satsuma is just for decorationotherwise itll go off.

I melted with pride. Minemy caring boy! I felt almost instantly revived.

After that, Daniel went out to the shop.
Where are you off to?
Were out of cat food, he explained.
And ice cream, get some ice cream! called Katie. My foods run out too!

My daughter entered my room, grandly, wearing glasses and a dressing gown, carrying her toy doctors kit. Catherine Aliceamateur physician.

Well, patient, shall we give you an injection?
Call me Mum, not patient…
You can be Mum when youre better. Open wide.

I opened my mouth.

Whathave you had kiwi? And didnt give me any? Kiwi?
Its on the platehelp yourself, I replied, pushing her the fruit.
Not hungry, I had eggs. Now Im waiting for ice cream. Let me listen to you, she said, looping a pink plastic stethoscope around her neck.

I chase after you every evening with a book to read, but you dont listen to me.

Oh dear, this isnt good, Katie said, listening to my neck. You talk too much. And run round after children. Prescription: an injection and ice cream. If Daniel buys for everyone. Otherwise… shouldve asked.

So youre not sharing your medicinal ice cream with your poor sick mother?

Katie answered by jabbing my leg with her toy syringe.
Ow! I laughed.
Thats how you get well!

Honestly, I was feeling much better already. And after ice cream, I felt brilliantbecause Daniel bought enough for all of us. My headache was gone, my strength was back. My eyes were blue, not red.

Still, I kept up the act of being a poor invalid for a bit, and Dan read Katie a story at bedtime. For her story, she chose the Cyclopedia.

Its an encyclopaedia about cyclopses, Dan joked.

They read about Saturn, then about dinosaurs, then about milk teeth. After that, they nearly came to blows over whether baby dinosaurs had milk teeth or not.

I listened to their chit-chat, melting with happiness, love, and this… immense sense of purpose. The most valuable, genuine feeling there is.

Later, I changed the bedsheets because, in the process, theyd managed to upturn the fruit plate and smear kiwi all over my sheets.

And then all three of us cuddled up and fell asleep together.

So, did the tablets work? the doctor asked me the next morning.

I nodded. But really, I thought, it wasnt the medicine at all. It was my sweet childrenmy round-the-clock pick-me-ups. They fill you with energy instead of pain, with joy instead of sadness, with happiness instead of anger.

Go and hug your kids, even if theyre already taller than you. Theres nothing more healing. Well… perhaps a good kiwi, packed with vitamin C!