Captain's Log: Day six of the migraine and I'm about ready to kill someone. Namely, myself.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzD936TMm7EI7qfawoVu48MiVDsTm7fqIoUNqwddv62E7gzYUHbD9VGnr67wha22QsOTXqWK5DgNqZqTXSsNOtYU-i5JWNmpBkJi7F7fz9fJYYXU8pmdzruCkbJDZbk8mln55HR9TmeqM/s320/d997d7c4-a2a5-4331-9918-c1304cddc1d0.jpg)
I can't stand the nausea, the head pain, the fatigue, the sensitivity to light and sound, or the all-around crappy feeling one more second. I feel like I'm barely able to function, let alone be a productive member of society.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO-z1PTzBgARbe_lijCUoBe3D6PpFEL4J6bVaPv11i8Onsm87at2ld6frqJ5AUKclIUfZbeSCi7_RZq84r8fi_j0uABe4cE0YT9GM0CHNVYI8pjFPo7w5RQBkUKS_vZWoCglOO-S9NBr4/s320/images.jpg)
Luckily, my dad has been a champ this week - bringing home dinner, going to the store, and just generally being above and beyond supportive in my misery. Nicely done, dad.
The only thing he (or anyone for that matter) is able to do is cure this blasted migraine. Get thee hence, migraine! Scram! I hate you.
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