Modifié le : 2019/08/08

It announced itself ear­ly in the day, start­ing with stiff­ness in the neck, fever­ish­ness in the hands, in every­thing that cross­es my mind. It explod­ed dur­ing the rehearsal of Ganymede. I resist­ed dur­ing the singing, came out of my defeat­ed evening, ran a hot bath, man­aged to counter the harm­ful effects despite nau­sea. Dur­ing the night, it woked me up after breath­ing in a stress­ful dream in which close friends made love to each oth­er brazen­ly in front of me, in sweat, when I have no place to stay. I took dou­ble pills and went back to sleep. This morn­ing, every­thing is okay, the evil is no longer there, but I am tired as if I was out of breath from my battle.

I’ve been used to big headaches for a long time. I don’t know if my mem­o­ries are authen­tic, but it seems to me that often on Sat­ur­days when I was at my par­ents’ house, I reg­u­lar­ly expe­ri­enced such nau­sea. It took me until I was in my thir­ties to decide to rec­og­nize the first signs of migraine and also to change some eat­ing habits, to lose weight, to calm myself.

Evil is a mys­te­ri­ous imbal­ance. It can sure­ly be explained after­ward that this or that caused the erup­tion of nau­sea. I could, for exam­ple, put this on the new dis­abil­i­ty insur­ance I pur­chased when I renewed my mort­gage. The insur­ance scum­bags are ask­ing me for $60 every two weeks. They tell me with­out telling me that my fam­i­ly his­to­ry sug­gests that I am at risk and that, accord­ing to their sta­tis­tics, I am one of those who will die soon­er than lat­er or that I will cost them an arm. Might as well warn.

But well, my grand­moth­er has been anx­ious all her life and is not yet dead, at 99 and a half years old. My par­ents are doing pret­ty well, despite a few pit­falls, and are slow­ly mov­ing towards the 80th num­ber. I hope I have their DNA.

Still, every­thing is fine with me, it seems to me, even if I can inter­pret this migraine as a sign that not every­thing is per­fect. But did I need this to remind myself of that ? I have my prob­lems, my ques­tions, my con­tra­dic­tions. I’m not rich, I run on the spot, like Alice, so I don’t get more mis­er­able. I’m get­ting old­er, so I some­times swal­low a lit­tle more water than usu­al, me who already can’t real­ly swim. But I give thanks for my exis­tence, I love life, I like to enjoy, I con­sent to cry, I try to be hon­est, and I quick­ly let myself be caught in the nets of love, friend­ship, and insurers.

So, is it dan­ger­ous, Doctor ?