I have only once in my life had a headache that might qualify as a migraine. It was in Palm Beach, Fla., in 2005. I was interviewing the writer James Patterson and simultaneously withdrawing cold turkey from a prescription antidepressant when suddenly I had the sensation of an airbag trying to inflate inside the tight confines of my cranium. Light sources started to leave smeary trails across my field of vision. I finished the interview, went back to my hotel, mixed and drank the contents of two bottles randomly chosen from the minibar, and went to bed. The next morning, I...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
