After the migraine that started on Tuesday afternoon dragged on into the wee hours of Friday morning, I found myself pacing the house on the verge of tears. That’s how I usually know I have no choice but to ask my husband to take me to the emergency room.
I dread going to the ER because while I’ve received good care most of the time, I’ve also experienced some not-so-good care there. One visit was particularly horrible and involved many, many hours of waiting to even be seen and insulting treatment by an attending doc.
My Friday morning visit was one of the best visits I can imagine, however, considering the circumstances. They were super quick about seeing me and starting my treatment, and every single person who worked on my care was kind, compassionate, and highly skilled.
I received an IV, which they loaded up with Ativan, Compazine, and Toradol. It worked like a miraculous charm. We were in and out within an hour and a half. And though I was feeling mighty groggy when we left, I was finally free from the maddening pain, nausea, vomiting, and dizziness.