I got a migraine last night. Hadn’t had a truly horrible one since I’ve been here [was actually rejoicing over that the other day] and they must have been storing up because this one was pretty awful. I started getting a little headache, didn’t think much of it as I had been crying in my room [I know, I’m a dork, but the little premature calve I’d adopted who had been doing so well had just died while I was feeding him and I was pretty upset.] Anyway, I figured it was just a crying headache and went to chat with the students before dinner hoping to get it off my mind. Within 20 minutes I was vomiting and so dizzy I could barely walk. What’s worse, it was like the pain had pushed every word of Spanish I knew right out of my head—not that I knew the word for “migraine” anyway. Needless to say, the staff and students I was with were a little unsettled. They kept trying to get me to go to the hospital and could not understand why on earth I would be saying “no.” I knew what was going on and what I needed, but I couldn’t tell them. All they knew was that their resident extranjera was throwing up, crying and looking like she’d pass out any second and wouldn’t go to the hospital!
It kinda showed me the other side of the coin. I’ll admit to feeling a little sorry for myself here sometimes [mostly when I’m really tired] – feeling isolated by the language barrier and wishing I could just communicate freely with someone for five minutes! Of course, I knew it must be frustrating for the people who speak the dominant language too; to always be wondering if you’re actually being understood, to have to speak so slowly you lose your train of thought and limit your vocabulary to words your toddler could understand, but I hadn’t realized how frightening it could be. Guess there are always two sides, eh? [Eventually, we got my medicine and I’m totally fine now. I’ve slept most of the day today and won’t likely be getting up for milking in the morning, but other than that, I’m good to go.]