The Spring W(h)ig-Out
Marathon training for a month of music
We’ve established that a lot of my travels take me to music: concerts, the Blues Highway, sites related to my favorite bands, graves of beloved musicians, you name it. The promise of a music-related event will get me booking a flight and searching for hotels faster than just about anything.
I’ve also bought a lot of concert tickets in far-flung places, made the trip, only to sell my ticket (or occasionally let them go to waste, which is akin to throwing 20s in the trash like a dumbass) because of feeling “off” once I arrived.
Except now I know what was making me feel off—vestibular migraines! I didn’t know that I was a high-scorer on the vestibular test until last month. I’m several weeks into physical therapy to rewire the part of my brain that controls my equilibrium, and my progress indicates that the diagnosis was correct and—the best part—treatable. I’m already experiencing bits of improvement.
The thing I didn’t know about vestibular migraines until I blew that test out of the water (Seriously, a score of 50 is considered disabled, and I scored a 74. Overachiever.) was that they don’t just give me vertigo and make me throw up. They also use all of my energy resources and knock the wind out of me. It’s not uncommon for me to feel like I’ve climbed a mountain when I walk a block huffing all the way, only to take the same walk on a non-migraine day without issue. I thought I was just out of shape. Which is some of it, as my poor body has been through it over the last eight years. But mostly, it’s this weird, rare, treatable condition.
I’m exceptionally hopeful that treatment will continue to work and I’ll be less flaky in the near future. That’s why I’m approaching my physical therapy like a runner training for a marathon, because I have places to go this spring and summer. The promise of Wilco and Billy Bragg playing Mermaid Avenue, the collection of Woody Guthrie lyrics they set to music almost 30 years ago, that prompted me to write a book about Woody, moved me to explore my treatment options and find a vestibular therapist.
Then this week, the Afghan Whigs announced a month-long tour for their 40th anniversary, causing me to spend a lot of money and increase my recovery goals because Friends, I am hitting the road and following the band!
Woodstock!
Boston!
Cincinnaci!
Milwaukee!
Chicago!
Los Angeles!
Joshua Tree*!
Yes, that is seven shows, including opening night and closing night.
No, I haven’t changed my mental meds lately. Why do you ask?
This band … I fell for them in 1996 when I turned on Conan O’Brien’s show one night just in time to see a beautiful man snarl, “Got you where I want you, Motherfucker.” And yet every attempt I made to see them in concert failed for 28 years. I finally saw them two summers ago in Philadelphia and Brooklyn, where I ran out of the theater, leaving my friend Beth behind because a migraine had me on the verge of throwing up at the end of the show. Even though I had a ticket to see a third night in Boston the next night, I stayed in the studio apartment I rented, throwing up and watching videos from the shows I’d seen as they trickled onto YouTube.
That’s the only time I’ve been to Boston, so I’m excited to have a re-do.
But what I’m really excited about is opening night in Woodstock. It’s been 13 years since I spent a week there, writing and finding the ending for that Woody Guthrie book. It’s a magical town, and the band’s playing a tiny venue. A bunch of my Afghan Whigs fan friends are going to be there, too.
I’ve only been to Cincinnati once, and it barely counts as I spent most of the time in a Kentucky suburb with a Bridezilla for her bachelorette party while I was knocked up with CJ. I did have a chili five-way from Skyway that made me throw up (Although just about everything made me throw up at that time. It was the second most vomity era of my life, with the recent migraine years topping the list.) The band’s originally from Cincinnati, and I love a hometown show. And it’s only a five-hour drive from home.
Milwaukee, Chicago, and LA are old friends, cities I absolutely adore. Going to the first two just makes sense, unlike all the other shows. And it’s an excuse to make an LA trip. Plus, I like the venue they’re playing. And I enjoy hanging out at my future ex-husband’s bar when I’m in town.
Then there’s Joshua Tree*, which is actually Pioneertown, home to Pappy and Harriet’s. I saw Patti Smith there a year and a half ago, which was incredible. Under the desert stars without light pollution, in the middle of nowhere.
So, from April 25 through May 24, my life will revolve around this band that I took forever to finally experience live. I’m making up for 28 lost years, vestibular system be damned.
If you need me in the meantime, I’ll be here, nodding and shaking my head over and over while trying to keep my lunch down. Whatever it takes to maintain my rock n’ roll lifestyle.
I’m going to need a lot of coffee, but don’t tell my vestibular therapist if you buy one for me. She won’t approve.