I've been sorting through books lately, in an effort to cull and control my ever-burgeoning collection, and of course I have to browse through each book to decide if I want to keep it. It's a slow, but rewarding process. This evening I was wandering through Migraine: The Complete Guide, when I happened across this delightful anecdote from a fellow migraineur:
Many migraine patients feel that emergency departments treat them with disrespect and with disregard for the seriousness of their condition. Emergency-room personnel, they say, do not consider severe migraine a true emergency. Instead, they bombard hapless migraineurs with demeaning questions and imply that they are drug abusers seeking a narcotic fix.
"I have a foolproof method for dealing with insensitive emergency-department doctors and nurses," said one woman who has had severe migraine for twenty years. "I throw up on their shoes."
Oh, you go girl!
Why yes. I do want a narcotic fix if I had to come to an ER for a migraine. Why do you think I left my dark, quiet home to come to a loud, bright, noisy, disease ridden hospital? Most likely because the pain made me want to put a gun in my mouth and I couldn't stop vomiting. So yeah. I want something - anything - and I want it now.
That being said, the doctor who gave me compazine (only IV works like this, he said) rather than demerol is my new hero.