DP gets me the tablets, takes them out of the pack for me, so I don't have to deal with the godawful noise tearing through my bursting head, puts them into my hand so I don't have to use my then malfunctioning and expanding eyes, puts the glass of water into my hand, takes it away and then places the chill pack he has already retrieved from the freezer onto whichever point on my skull I have vaguely indicated is the place most likely for my brain to emerge from. He then places covers over me, rearranges them near me if I can't handle anything touching my skin and leaves the darkened room, having pulled the curtains for me, unless I ask him to do something, anything, to my neck, face and head to try and equalise the pressure (at that point he could repeatedly insert a kitchen knife if it made the pain stop), where he will spend however long I need for the most exquisite agony to dissipate.
I don't demand this, but he gets migraines occasionally (hasn't had one since starting betablockers), so he knows what it feels like and does it because it helps.
There is no way in a full migraine that I would be capable of seeing to get down the stairs to the medicine cabinet without breaking my neck or leg (which in all honesty, would probably be preferable at that point to the pain in my head, neck, face, the numb arms and tongue and incoherent speech). I'd just lie where I fell and wait hopefully for the blessed relief of death.
Thankfully, I don't get them anywhere near as often as I used to and chill packs are absolutely fucking amazing, but had he tried to help by buggering off without at least making sure the room was dark and the water and pills were inside me first, I think I'd be pretty miffed.