I had headaches most of my childhood. Maybe it was my poor eyesight. Maybe it was bad nutrition. Maybe it was the stress of divorces, remarrying parents, and more siblings. I tried all the drugs in various parents’ medicine cabinets, to no avail. I learned to power through head-pounding misery.
I worked as a cashier in high school. An assistant manager noticed one night that I was more sullen than usual. She asked if I was okay. I explained that I had a headache.
She said, “I have something that will fix that right up.”
“It won’t work,” I told her. “I’ve tried aspirin, Tylenol, Excedrin. Nothing helps.”
“Give it a shot,” she said, handing me a maroonish, brownish pill with “Advil” written on it.
Twenty minutes later, my headache was gone. I turned cartwheels and called it a miracle. Continue reading Like a Pill (#208)