"There is a moment in time more beautiful than any that the poet has ever sung; more satisfying than the first hit of some new and beautiful substance; more significant and life changing than any bite of fermented grain and water can provide. This is the moment when the medication kicks in.
This is the moment where I am free. Or at least this is the moment where I am given my parole and I am allowed to rejoin society as a somewhat productive and functional human being. This is where the magic happens. Where the relief comes to visit in its quiet and succinct way and slowly whispers to me that it is sorry and that it will take all my pain away. This is approximately 37 minutes after the pill pop. This is 36.5 minutes of lying in the darkness with visions swimming through my head. 36 minutes of the ache and the prayer and the slowly diminishing will to power. 35 minutes of desperation and pleading. 34 minutes of complete and total annihilation.
But then it happens. It sneaks in like a thief in the night and suddenly the world makes sense again. It brings life into focus and calms the aching of the teeth, the muscles, the veins in the forehead, and the sick sense of complete and utter doomsday that has taken up residence in my poor and bruised psyche. That is the moment where I roll over and the light is no longer my enemy. That is the moment where every footfall and whisper no longer offends me to the point of tears. That is the magic moment. That is the moment I live for.
And with the attacks themselves would come the cocktails of symptoms: nausea, vomiting, dizziness, aphasia, blindness, auras, sensitivity to light, sound, smell, everything. It wasn’t enough that we all had to spend our time keeping the angry throb at bay: we had to balance the aversion to nearly everything in our environment against the hope that sometime soon this would all pass."