Waking up at 4 AM with a migraine isn’t a great start to the day. I fumbled around in the dimly lit kitchen trying to find the paracetamol, make a cup of tea and rip a banana off the bunch, whilst my phone, turned down to its dimmest setting, lit my way.
I briefly switched the study lights on to put the cup on my desk and then quickly turned them off again. “Agh, lights off,” I muttered, like a Gremlin scared of light.
‘Today’s going to be a write-off,’ I thought, knowing that it takes a day to get rid of the migraine, and then I’ll have a blocked-up sore head for at least another day. It’s like the migraine scars my brain like a knife cut, and it takes a few days to fully recover.
I reflected on yesterday’s trip to London. I hadn’t drunk enough water, I’d eaten too much of the sugary food on offer at lunchtime and I hadn’t had enough protein. Too much bad stuff, not enough good stuff. Plus I’d spent most of the day in air-conditioned environments. My body had rebelled.
Thirty minutes out in the fresh air with the dogs helped to clear my head and wake me up. I needed to muster enough energy for the after-school table tennis club.
The school table tennis players can be relied upon to liven anyone up. They were fresh back from their half-term break and keen to get playing again. I couldn’t help but smile as I listened to them chatting about their new bats, talking about the kit bags they wanted for Christmas and showing off their new backhand serves, honed on their mums’ dining room tables.
Forty-five minutes with these guys was far more effective than the paracetamol.
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