There's A Name For My Pain

I get migraines.

I started getting them in my 20s, actually, but whenever I complained of having a really bad headache, my well-intentioned friends and family would say things like "every headache is bad" or "you just have a low tolerance for pain" (completely untrue), or "that's not a headache, that's a hangover" (occasionally true).

After doing a little research on what a migraine is, and knowing that a large population of migraine sufferers are women and that it can be an inherited problem, I asked my mother if she'd ever had one. She had not, and as far as she knew, no one in her family ever had one, either. I got the same answer from my father, along with "well, maybe your aunts get them but they're both nuts, too so let's hope you didn't inherit ANYTHING from them, ok?" They were not exactly helpful, but probably accurate, responses.

I started keeping a record of when my migraines would settle in, how long they lasted, and any other notes I could make. I had already changed my diet as much as possible, including the very difficult decision to completely cut out caffeine. Also, I had already recognized a pattern of what kind of pain it was ... located in the front right part of my head above my eye socket that would also block half of my nasal passage, it was a constant pressure sort of an ache, not a pulsating one. Semi-sensitive to light and very sensitive to noise, I'd apply an ice pack (or, in the early years, a frozen bag of peas) to my forehead and just concentrate on not worrying about the pain. I couldn't read, and would have trouble keeping a train of thought or carry on a conversation. My taste buds would be off and things would taste sour or bland in my mouth. I'd get muddled in my head ... starting something as basic as brushing my teeth and stopping after putting toothpaste on my brush. I'd look in the mirror and notice my eyes were bloodshot so I'd add some eye drops and go sit down. And then I'd realize I hadn't brushed my teeth and try to start all over again.

The ache would come in waves, too. For a few hours, I was inhuman and unfit to do anything. And then I'd get about 40 "good" minutes. I could still feel the pain - but I was able to be well enough to make food, draw a bath, get my mail, and MAYBE drive ('tho only for a short distance). I knew the "good" time would come to a close so I made sure to be as organized as possible and to use that time wisely.

Years passed and - honestly - I just lived with it. 2003 was the deal-breaker, though. In 2003, I had a total of 25 migraine-laden days. October alone was responsible for 5 of those days. I had reached my limit.

With my family history and my "migraine diary" with me, I finally made a doctor's appointment. I saw the doctor, showed her my records, and said that this had become a quality of life issue for me. She reviewed the symptoms, discussed the pain, and came to the same conclusion I had already decided upon myself - yes, they were for sure migraines; yes, they were mostly cyclical to my body clock; yes, they were known as "cluster" migraines (which explained why I would have waves of pain followed by minutes of clarity); and yes, they were nearly unavoidable. The good news is that she thought they COULD be managed.

After a few different attempts at various medications, we settled upon a two-prong approach. I'd take a daily blood-thinner (even though I have low blood pressure already) to allow for better blood flow throughout my body and, when a migraine would occur, I'd take a self-dissolving mint-flavored pill, apply my cold pack, and wait for it to pass. For several years, this worked wonders. I'd even allowed myself to have the occasional glass of red wine - after avoiding it for a time because of migraine-inducing sulfites - and it was as 'tho I'd been given a second chance at life. Even when a migraine did occur (and they did, from time to time), they weren't the multiple-day long types I'd been having and the secondary medication seemed to tame them quickly. In 2005, for instance, I had just two days of migraines. In 2006, I had no migraine days at all. In the entire year. It was nothing short of shocking.

But the body evolves and adjusts. In 2009, I had 5 total days of migraines. This year has seen 5 days, too, and I'll likely have more before the year is up. I'm not being gloomy about that - for me, I see it as a high possibility and probable fact.

But yesterday ... yesterday actually scared me. The migraine I had yesterday was the grand-daddy of them all.

It started first thing in the morning. (Well, really during my sleep on Friday, but I digress.) I had a dry mouth, a stuffy nose and it felt like my brain was on fire. The Awesome Boyfriend came in with a cold pack ... as he'd do about 10 times throughout the day. The cat wouldn't leave my side and her constant purring was a comfort - the only constant sound that I could really tolerate. Breathing hurt. Turning over in bed was an effort. Getting to an upright position was about a ten minute ordeal. My eyes wouldn't open for long periods of time and I know that I wasn't communicating very well. When the Awesome Boyfriend asked if he should run to the coffee shop for my usual order, I could barely focus long enough to tell him not to bother. When he later asked if I wanted lunch, I mumbled something but I don't think it was an actual cohesive idea. I felt like I had experienced a stroke followed by my head being deep-fried. My skull felt blistered. I kept touching my forehead where the pain was centered to make sure it wasn't bulging.

I knew that I should take one of my migraine pills but eating something - even something that would help ease the pain - made me queasy. I lamented staying in bed on such a beautiful weekend day, but I knew that I was deep in the throes of a serious head-buster and there was nothing I could do but ride it out. I finally ate some fruit snacks - slowly - around 1pm - but couldn't even eat one small snack-sized bag of them and bit off tiny pieces of each one, letting it dissolve slowly in my mouth before swallowing, and made sure that I was keeping that bite down before taking another small nibble.

At 3pm, the Awesome Boyfriend suggested scrambled eggs and some toast and I decided to try to eat. I managed to slowly sit up, trudge to the couch (half-naked, as I couldn't imagine the amount of energy it would have taken to try to get dressed), wrapped myself in a blanket (on an 80-degree day) and got down a single scrambled egg and a slice of buttered toast.

At 6:40pm, the Awesome Boyfriend more strongly suggested I take a pill and, having successfully kept down the eggs, I finally acquiesced. I even managed to eat a few bites of dinner but, most happily, I had an appetite for the brown butter chocolate chip cookies he worked on all day. (I ate one. It was incredible ... even for my still slightly wonky taste buds.)

For anyone reading this who doesn't have experience with migraine headaches, all of this may sound rather exaggerated. And I could see where some would think that my tolerance for pain is, perhaps, not as high as it could be. If that's your opinion, you are of course very entitled to it. However I know that I am, if anything, UNDER-stating how much physical pain is involved with a migraine. I wouldn't wish a migraine on anyone. When in the clutches of a migraine, I dream of scooping out my eyeballs to ease the pressure. My long hair feels like the roots are embedding themselves deep into my brain and I consider cutting it all off, in case that will stop the ache. Honestly, if I didn't know that there were options to stop the pain, I could see where having migraines would cause a person to lose hope of experiencing good health again. As it was, I did have a light crying jag while trying to get myself together before eating dinner, even as I knew that the medication I had taken was slowly beginning to help me recover.

My Saturday ended well. By 8pm, the veil had lifted and I was able say that the migraine had passed. I woke up today and stepped outside for the first time since Friday evening. And though the day is a bit gray and it will likely rain soon, the air outside ... the trees moving in the wind ... the bright skies ... it all feels terrific once again.