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Migranya

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Conec la paraula migranya des que era una nena. A casa meva tots sabíem (sabem) que hi ha dies que la meva mare no és ben bé ella mateixa. Per això quan em va tocar una parella migranyosa ja sabia com anava tot. Sabia que s’ha d’estar preparat per ajornar tots els teus plans com a mínim 24 hores i sabia acceptar que pràcticament res que jo fes podria fer desaparèixer el dolor. La migranya no només és una putada perquè arriba a nivells de dolor gairebé insuportables (hi ha gent que fins i tot perd el coneixement), sinó que també és molt complicada a nivell social i legal. Com a altres malalties sense símptomes fàcilment mesurables, l’única prova d’un episodi és la paraula del malalt. Té un examen, una feina o un compromís personal i ha de dir que no pot ser i pregar perquè el creguin i no hi perdin la confiança. Per això quan algú em diu que té migranya, no puc evitar tenir una profunda compassió familiar.

I know the word migraine since I was a girl. At home, we all knew (we all know) that there are days when my mother is not completely herself. Then, when I got a boyfriend with migraine, I already knew how it went. I knew that you have to be ready to postpone all your plans for at least 24 hours, and I knew I had to accept that there is almost nothing I could to to make the pain go away. Migrane is a bitch not only because the pain level can be almost unbearable (some people even lose their sense), also because it is very difficult at a social and legal level. As in other sicknesses without visible symptoms, the only proof of an episode is the word of the patient himself. He might have an exam, a job, or a personal commitment, he has to say it cannot be and pray that they will believe him and his reliability is not lost. That is why when someone tells me he suffers from migraines, I cannot help feeling a deep, familiar compassion.

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