#Migraine and it's Symptoms

[uss-butterscotch]

Part 2 of this (another between seasons 3&4 fic from eddie’s pov)

The next encounter Eddie had with Steve Harrington was one week later, but it wasn’t in the school’s parking lot. Instead, it was in the bathroom. The rest of the group was working on solving a puzzle to make it through this week’s quest, and he figured he’d have plenty of time to hit the head before they figured it out.

He should have known something was up when he walked through the bathroom door and the lights were out. When he flicked them back on, and he heard a pained groan, he should have turned back around and found the bathroom in the next hall over. But it was just his luck that he didn’t do either of those things.

He took a cautious step into the bathroom to find none other than Harrington. On the floor by the sinks. His arm slung over his eyes.

He took a quick glance at his watch and confirmed what he already knew. There was still an hour before Hellfire ended and Steve was expected to pick up his gaggle of freshmen. And yet, there he was, right in front of Eddie, looking more than a little pale.

“Harrington?” Eddie asked tentatively, “You good, man?”

“Munson.” The man on the floor all but groaned out. He took a deep breath and if Eddie was a betting man, he’d guess it was to steady himself. “I’m uh… I’ll be good, just gotta…”

Eddie waited for a moment, but Harrington never finished the thought. The more he looked at Harrington, the worse he looked. His hair was damp like he’d splashed water on his face and his usually neatly tucked shirt was rumpled.

“Are you like, drunk or something?” Eddie asked.

“No I-“ he stopped abruptly and grit his teeth. He looked like he was trying to hold back another exclamation of pain.

Eddie watched for a moment, unsure of what to do, or if he should even be seeing this. He was about to ask another questions when Steve let out a shaky breath.

“Lights.” Was all he said, and it took Eddie half a second longer than it should’ve to realize he should turn the lights back off.

When he did, he heard Harrington take another deep breath. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

Eddie shifted awkwardly on his feet. “Okay so, not drunk… Hungover?” He didn’t really expect this to be the answer, given Harrington’s “keg king” reputation, but it was the only other thing he could think of.

“No.” Steve said, almost sounding frustrated. “My head, I get-“

If he looked pale before, he looked downright green now in the dim light filtering in through the window into the hallway. Suddenly he was scrambling to one of the stalls with less grace than Eddie thought was possible for a star athlete like him, and the telltale sign of emptying the contents of one’s stomach could be heard from within.

It was at that moment Eddie decided he was not equipped to deal with the situation alone, and he turned to leave the bathroom. “I’m gonna go get help, man. Stay here.”

Stay here? Real helpful, Eddie, the guy writhing in pain on the bathroom floor wandering off was probably a big concern. He took off running back to the drama classroom with one goal in mind.

“Henderson,” he shouted as he threw open the door.

Six pairs of eyes snapped to him, a combination of confused and startled.

“Your babysitter’s like, dying in the bathroom.”

“What?” Dustin practically screeched, hurriedly getting up from his chair. Mike and Lucas exchanged a worried look.

“What’s happening? Did he lose another fight? Is there blood? I don’t have my first aid kit on me! Shit, shit, shit!” Dustin was fully panicking.

“Woah, slow down. No blood, just, his head? I think? And he was uh, throwing up when I left him.” Eddie said, feeling a little guilty about riling the kid up so much. And filing away the fact that he apparently keeps a first aid kit on him sometimes.

“Oh thank god.” Dustin sighed and immediately relaxed. “It’s just a migraine.”

Lucas was immediately on his feet. “I’ll call Robin.” And he was out the door.

Dustin began digging in his backpack and pulled out a pill bottle, a walkie talkie, and his bottle of water. “Which bathroom?” He asked, staring intently at Eddie.

“Uh, just, the one down the hall.” Eddie replied a little shakily, his body not quite catching onto the fact that it didn’t seem like an emergency situation anymore.

Dustin nodded and pushed past him through the door. Without even really thinking about it, Eddie found himself following.

“Wait wait, what’s happening?” Eddie asked, still a little frantic.

“Steve gets these migraines now. Really bad headaches.” Dustin explained quickly. “Doctor said it can happen after too many concussions, which Steve has had plenty of at this point.”

They made it back to the bathroom where the lights were still off. “Steve?” Dustin called softly.

He received an unintelligible mumble from the stall Eddie knew Harrington to be in.

Dustin made his way toward the noise. “Did you take your pills already?”

“Threw’em up..” Steve slurred quietly.

“Ok well, I brought some more. I’ll leave them here for when you think you’re done throwing up.” Dustin said, using the voice he saved for when he was trying to be helpful.

Eddie heard the pill bottle be set down on the floor followed by two other objects. The water bottle and the walkie, he deduced in some back room of his brain.

“Lucas is calling Robin, but walkie if you need anything else, okay?”

Once again, the only response he got was something that might have been words if they got put through a meat grinder. As Eddie stood there he remembered the apparent relief the freshman seemed to have at knowing it was only this. Apparently a headache bad enough to be throwing up on the floor of a dark high school bathroom. He couldn’t help but wonder what they could have been expecting that was worse.

Dustin exited the stall, careful not to let the door slam shut. “Let’s get out of here.” He whispered to Eddie in the darkness, and he was only too eager to agree.

Once they were back in the hallway, they started slowly making their way back to the others. Eddie glanced over at Dustin, whose expression was unreadable other than he looked lost in thought.

“Well that looks like it sucks.” He stated, trying to break the silence.

“Yeah.” Dustin said quietly.

Now Eddie was starting to get anxious again. Henderson was never this quiet. “It’s good that you know what to do to help.” He offered.

“It’s my fault it even happens.” Dustin snapped.

Eddie whipped his head to look at the freshman. “Woah, I don’t think-“

“I’m the one who kept dragging him into all the shit that got him hurt.” Dustin shouted. “He was there when Billy showed up because I asked him to help me! He got take-“

He did the thing that Eddie had been noticing more and more. Like he was adjusting what he was about to say for some reason. Like he was keeping secrets.

“He got hurt at Starcourt because I convinced him to come with me!” The kid’s eyes were dangerously close to spilling tears.

“Knock it off!” Mike’s voice came from down the hallway.

He stalked closer to them at an agitated pace. “If he hadn’t been there any of those times, we’d all be dead.”

Eddie didn’t have time to process that before Dustin was yelling back to him.

“Oh, and it’s ok to turn his brain to mush if it means we’re safe, huh?” Dustin shot back.

“It’s not like we were forcing him to do anything! He could have said no whenever! It was his choice to be involved!” Mike was yelling now too.

“Oh really? What about the tunnels?”

Eddie watched them go back and forth, barely making sense of what they were saying, but knowing it was turning into a full blown fight. “Hey guys,” he tried to interject.

“You’re the one who insisted we couldn’t leave him behind!” Mike yelled, exasperated.

“Because if Billy had woken up to us and his car missing, who knows what he would have done!”

“Guys?” Eddie tried, a little louder, but he was ignored again.

“And besides, you just said we would have died if he hadn’t been there, so what side are you on?” Dustin continued.

“I’m just saying, he can make his own decisions, it’s not our fault anything happened!”

“Hey!” A voice came from down the hall behind Eddie. They all turned to see Harrington half in the hallway, supporting himself on the bathroom doorframe. “Will you little shits keep it down out here?”

He didn’t look any better than he had when Eddie first saw him, and he wondered how the hell he had managed to pull himself off the floor at all.

“Sorry, Steve.” Dustin said at the same time Mike scoffed and said “Whatever.”

Again, Eddie found himself watching the scene in front of him like it was a tennis match.

Harrington winced in the light of the hallway, but he managed to look at the two freshman. “Dustin, as much as I hate to say it, Wheeler’s right. Everything I did, I chose it. And I’d do it again if it meant keeping you idiots safe.”

Dustin sighed. “That doesn’t exactly make me feel better.”

Steve waved a hand at him, a motion which looked like it almost cost him his balance. “I know, sorry.” He tried to flash them a smile, but it was leaning a bit too far into grimace territory. “Point is, it’s nobody’s fault, or if it’s anyone’s it’s Billy’s and…”

Harrington trailed off, eyes shifting to briefly to Eddie, before he closed them, looking like he gave up on the thought.

“Whatever, you know what I mean, right?”

Dustin chewed his cheek for a moment before answering. “Yeah, I guess.”

That seemed to be enough for Harrington. “Now get back to your game and let me wallow in here in peace.” Harrington said, disappearing back into the dark bathroom.

Dustin and Mike looked at each other and appeared to come to some sort of agreement telepathically. They shook hands and looked at Eddie.

“Sorry for derailing the session.” Dustin offered.

Eddie blinked a couple times, realizing he was once again one of the players in the scene, not just an observer. “Oh it’s fine, I’m just counting all the time you spent out here as time your characters were in the shrinking room.” He put a devilish smile on his face and watched as they scrambled back to the drama room.

As he followed them, he saw Buckley rushing down the hall.

“Where is he?” She asked. She looked frazzled with her pajama pants, an oversized sweatshirt (emblazoned with “Hawkins Basketball”, he noted), and a plastic bag overflowing with an assortment of things like lotions, and ice packs, and several items Eddie couldn’t identify.

He pointed her down the hallway and watched her shuffle away. He burst back through the classroom door, less panicked, but with much to think about.

“Well boys, where were we?”

Part 3

[thebibliosphere]

I feel like I'm the only person I know who could take a drug meant to lower your blood pressure (propranolol) and end up hypertensive from it instead.

The annoying thing is it killed my migraine pain; I'm just fucking allergic to it, so I can't even enjoy being pain-free because the rest of me got hit with the anaphylactoid reaction stick.

[antiadvil]

Okay but can you really blame someone with chronic migraine for having horrific food poisoning symptoms from 3-4am and then just going meh no one needs to know about this it’s probably just the usual

[solarmorrigan]

18 with platonic stobin please! (Sorry if this sends twice I got an error message >:( whack)

Did not send twice, but I'm glad it came through at least once!

18. Headache - Platonic Stobin

cw: mentions of alcohol use

-

Robin is certain of three things:

1) Today is going to be terrible, 2) she’s dying, and 3) Steve is the worst.

Well – okay, no, that last one isn’t really true; he’s actually making breakfast for them both right now, which is great, because, again, Robin is probably dying.

It’s just he has the audacity to bustle around their kitchen like he hadn’t had just as much to drink as Robin had last night, like the morning sunlight filtering in through the windows isn’t stabbing painfully into his eyes the way it is Robin’s, like his stomach isn’t roiling like they’re on a ship in a storm, like the dark circles under his eyes and his sallow complexion don’t indicate he’s every bit as hungover as Robin is.

“How are you even functioning right now?” Robin whines from where her head is half hidden behind her arms, slumped over at the kitchen island.

Steve shrugs. “Practice, I guess?” His voice is a little croaky, but he sounds otherwise unaffected, and Robin hates it a little.

“There is no way you’ve been this hungover often enough to just be used to it,” Robin argues. “I would’ve noticed.”

“No, not hungover,” Steve answers with the soft breath of a laugh. “Just– migraines, y’know?”

Robin gives a vague, affirmative grunt, but it takes a few long moments for the meaning of the words to reach her through the soupy mess of her brain.

“Wait,” Robin mumbles, braving the murderous rays of the sun to look up at Steve where he’s standing over the stove. “This is what a migraine feels like?”

“I mean, I don’t know exactly how you’re feeling right now, but– are you nauseous?” Steve asks.

Robin swallows thickly, humming in the affirmative.

“Kinda dizzy?”

“Mm.”

“Light and noise make you feel kind of like you want to die?”

“God, yes.”

“Head hurt so much that you wish it would actually just fall off?”

Robin jams the heels of her palms into her eyes, nodding pitifully.

Steve hums. “Then that’s about it, yeah.”

“Oh my god.” Robin drags her hands down her face, staring blearily at Steve as he pokes nonchalantly at the eggs he’s currently scrambling. “You do this regularly?”

“Sometimes it’s not as bad. Sometimes it’s worse. That’s when I get stuff like trouble seeing, or talking. But I guess?” Steve shrugs again, the line of his shoulders stiff; it’s clear he doesn’t feel well, but he’s far more active than Robin thinks she has the capacity to be right now. “Like, this sucks, but I’d still classify it as okay enough to go to work. Maybe run errands, if they’re important.”

“Oh my god,” Robin mutters again, laying her head back on her folded arms. “You deserve financial compensation for being alive.”

Steve snorts. “When you find someone to talk to about that, let me know.”

The quiet clink of porcelain against tile sounds just beside Robin’s head, and she opens her eyes, unable to remember when she’d closed them. Scrambled eggs and buttered toast are laid out temptingly on a plate before her, looking good enough that she’s willing to contemplate actually eating them despite the faint protests of her stomach.

“Did you take something for your head already?” Steve asks.

“Tylenol,” Robin says, fingering the edge of the plate. “Definitely hasn’t kicked in yet.”

Steve rounds the island, coming to stand behind the stool Robin is perched on. “Here, sit up straight for a minute.”

Robin groans, but slowly drags herself upright. Behind her, Steve laughs.

“Don’t complain; I’m gonna make it worth your while.”

Before she can ask just how he’s going to do that, Steve’s hands come up to rest at the juncture of Robin’s neck and shoulders, large and strong, a little clammy, but comforting and warm all the same. Then he digs his thumbs into the tense muscle at the back of Robin’s neck, and she thinks she might actually murder him.

The pain only lasts a few moments, though, before the stiff muscle gives way under Steve’s attention, loosening and relaxing until the persistent ache that’s been radiating from the back of Robin’s head begins to ease.

“Holy shit, you’re magic,” Robin says, hushed, almost reverent, shifting slightly in discomfort as Steve moves on to her shoulders, before the muscle there yields, too, granting another ounce of relief.

“Magic, huh?” Steve teases, sounding warm and smug. “I’m gonna remember you said that.”

“Tell anyone and I’ll deny it. You’re too full of yourself as it is,” Robin says, though it comes out with zero conviction, on the tail of a pleased sigh.

“Uh huh.” The massaging motion of Steve���s hands slows and tapers off, leaving him rubbing warm, comforting circles just at the slope where her neck meets her shoulders. “Well, now that I’ve worked my not-magic, do you feel like you could eat?”

Robin looks at the eggs and toast again and finds that her stomach has calmed a little now that her head isn’t pounding. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good. I didn’t put all that work in just to have it go to waste,” Steve says, moving back around the island to hop up on his own stool, pulling a second plate towards himself.

“Oh, yeah, ten whole minutes of work. You poor thing,” Robin drawls, but there’s an amused little smile tucked up into the corners of her mouth.

It might not be such a bad day after all, she decides, and she’s probably not dying, but she does know that Steve is actually, probably, the best.

[appalachiananarchist]

I had a patient who has been dealing with severe headaches and dizziness. All the male doctors she saw before finding her way to me wrote it off as migraines (even though she wasn't responding to migraine treatments) and wouldn't examine it further. After talking to her for a while, she was describing some major red flags. I got an MRI of the brain and it wasn't good. Anyway, now I get to tell this young lady that she has cancer. I mean, I guess I can't say that 100% yet, but... it's cancer.

Moral of the story: if you are a woman, I strongly encourage you to have a woman doctor who will be more likely to take you seriously. Sure there are good male doctors out there, but I think any lady who has interacted with the medical industry at all knows how those odds look.

[virtualplays]

Linked Disability Event Day 1

Prompt: Migraines

Four gets a migraine, Sky's there to help.

Now on AO3!

@linked-disability

A Migraine'd Morning

Blinking awake, Four knew today was going to be rough. He could feel the pressure behind his eyes already forming. A migraine, no doubt. Despite his thoughts being slightly more merged than normal, Four knew that the Colors were the cause.

Groaning, Four sat up, covering his eyes with his hand. Ignoring Legend's taunting calls, Four begins searching his bag. He can't remember if he grabbed his medicine last time they were in his era.

As Four searches, he can feel the pressure getting worse. Sitting up, combined with the light from the sun, was quickly becoming a problem.

Great, a blue-tinted thought begins, We forgot to grab the one thing that keeps us from becoming useless.

Four shakes his head to clear the thought, only to have a wave of nausea hit him. Covering his mouth with his hand, Four tilts to the side slightly.

"Four?" A voice questions from his left, "Are you alright?"

Four glances over to see Sky leaning over him. He hadn't noticed Sky approach.

We really are out of it, a passing thought edged with red.

"...'m fine. J'st a mi'ra'ne," Four's words would slur. He'd blink several times, scrunching up his brow.

We're clearly not fine, the violet-hued part of his brain added, We're slurring our speech, meaning we're closer to the worst pain than we thought.

Sky, concern clear, would grab Four's face gently. He gently moves Four's face to look at him better, "You should probably lay back down, Four."

"Mhm, fo'go' m' meds," Four would lean into Sky's cold hands, his eyes fluttering closed.

"I'm sure Wild can make you something to help, for now just lay back down and go back to sleep," Sky would sit down next to Four, slowly helping the teen lay his head on his lap.

Going back to bed does sound nice, the green-shaded thought said.

"M'kay. G'nigh' Sky," Four grabbed his blanket, pulling it over his eyes.

"Good night, Four," Sky chuckled lightly as he began to run his fingers through Four's hair.

end cuz i can't do endings

[anneapocalypse]

bad Echo day

[bluebellwrenart]

Nadezhda Kolokolova, CIA Asset, (Former) Perseus Lieutenant Now lives and works under the alias Nadia Bell, occasionally serving as a CIA field operative & assassin. Consultant for Soviet and Perseus related matters. Currently in the care/supervision of Frank Woods (with whom she is believed to have a close and intimate relationship.) Highly skilled. Generally amiable.

It was my Bell/Nadia's turn to get a facelift since I gave Claire one back in March (and I originally drew the two at the same time.) I've drawn Nadia about four times since I first drew her back in September (two unfinished sketches, two finished pieces) but I wanted to give her a proper makeover. I made her scar a bit more noticeable, made her hair nice and messy, and gave her a spiffy jacket and a flannel because I wanted to give her a rough look (and so she looked like she could match Woods a little.) She has multiple chronic illnesses and regularly gets the crap beaten out of her; loose-fitting, practical, comfy clothes are an absolute must.

[eggedbellies]

I would be able to tell if I was concussed instead of just a normal migraine, right?

[beenovel]

Me trying to figure out what’s causing this new symptom

(I forgot but should have added burnout and migraines)

ALT text under cut

[alt text]

The Pepe Silvia meme of a Caucasian man holding a cigarette while looking like he’s lost his mind, pointing to a large conspiracy board.

Written in red in random places and terrible handwriting is autism, bipolar, adhd, hypermobility, anxiety, depression, PCOS, ptsd.

In brighter red is meds then mystery illness with six exclamation marks after it.

[gremlinshatephilosophers]

Ice Cream and a Corgi

Rating: G • Words: 1,351

Summary: "I feel better when you're here." Phil should know by now not to push himself too far and take his health for granted. Most of the time he's pretty good at it, but migraines are unpredictable. In his ideal world none of this would happen in the first place, but if he can't avoid it, a bit of daydreaming with Dan by his side makes it all just a tiny bit more bearable.

[bookhobbit]

Bow and I mostly do not share migraine triggers, so usually we're not both in The Soup at the same time for the same reason. There is one exception though and unfortunately it is a huge one: Weather Changes. And well it's spring. This is to say, no one in this household is thinking very well at the moment.

[psychotic-system-culture-is]

Pyschosis system culture is being delusional but some alters not being affected by said delusions and being weirded out by delusional thought processes.

Explanation: we have Cotards but some alters aren’t affected by it — I was explaining to one WHY we have migraines (I explained it as being due to the fact our brain was decomposing) and they looked so confused.

<-w->

[moonshynecybin]

scream laughing at one of the recommended exercise strategies for POTS patients being kayaking. brother.

[akkivee]

This might be a bit of a dumb question, but what is the significance of the placement of Sasara's earrings/piercings?

they say tragus piercings can relieve migraines!!!! and since he got those earrings after he got brainwashed, the theory/hc is that sasara may have symptoms from the true hypnosis mic in the form of headaches!!!

[fennopunk]

It's funny, in a way, to see a video of a doctor listing the hardest medications to quit, listing Venlafaxine first because of the god-awful withdrawals-

While you are nauseous and have brain zaps and balance issues from Venlafaxine withdrawals.