It's 4.30 am. Several hours of sleep are terminated by an internal projector screening trauma-tinged scenes from the previous day. I am unable to turn it off; this is not a good sign. More ominous still is the vague but unmistakeable gnawing indigestion in the pit of my stomach. I consider medication but am uncertain, and can't be bothered anyway. I turn over and attempt to banish the discomfort by conscious relaxation.
Two hours later, Martha gets up. I inform her that I am suffering from a semi-migraine. It's not long before 'semi' can be removed from the equation. A headache has moved into a familiar spot to the right of my temples, and the nausea has intensified. The outside world begins to shut down, and I am plunged into an interior cinemascape of vivid fantasies: a procession of people from the distant past, sexual images dating back forty years. They eventually fade away, leaving me in a dark, still space, painful and exhausting. The headache is less severe than sometimes - I do not need to groan in anguish. The nausea is more problematic, however, and I feel afraid. I know the pattern. I shall not be free of the pain until the entire process has played itself out completely.
Seven hours later, I am retching from deep inside my intestines. 'Please come out' I implore, as the slowly growing but obstinate clenching sensations refuse to reach their conclusion. The earlier phases, hours before, are easy to handle, coming from the stomach proper. Each successive series of convulsions emanates from a deeper point, however, and nothing can stop it. I try to relax and stay quiet in bed, but this is not always the best thing. The sound of Martha walking downstairs is enough to disturb my false equilibrium and bring on another session of necessary retching. Once the final bodyquake has issued from a spot way below the belly button I recognise the signs immediately, and can once more look forward to a future.
For mild migraines, a medicine called Migraleve can relieve the symptoms. Working in classic symptomatic medicine style, it contains painkiller for the headache and an anti-nausea ingredient for the gut. I also have a pill entitled Sumatriptan. If taken in time, it is like magic, cutting off the symptoms and permitting me to go to work, climb a hill, or whatever. I am not fond of Sumatriptan, however, and use it sparingly. Sumatriptan works by narrowing the blood vessels which dilate during a migraine through the agent of serotonin. It can leave me with a muddy feeling the day after, as if a mysterious but necessary psycho-physical process has been artificially cut off. Temporary relief, but no guarantee that it is beneficial in the longer term. In contrast, a migraine allowed to run its course may leave me feeling light, purified, and refreshed.
It is fair to say that, behind its armoury of medications, orthodox medicine does not understand what migraine is at all. It can wax lyrical about symptoms and dealing with the effects, but that is all. It is strange for ones life to be overwhelmed from time-to-time by a condition which root is unknown, but you get to live with the fact. My own experience over almost two decades points to migraine being a disturbance in the energy field, but this is not the kind of statement that has conventional medical researchers jumping up and down with excitement. There is probably somebody out there - in a village in the depths of the Amazon rainforest maybe, or deeply versed in the arts of acupuncture - who actually knows. My own task is simply to become more proactive, and discover what is out there in the first place.
Two hours later, Martha gets up. I inform her that I am suffering from a semi-migraine. It's not long before 'semi' can be removed from the equation. A headache has moved into a familiar spot to the right of my temples, and the nausea has intensified. The outside world begins to shut down, and I am plunged into an interior cinemascape of vivid fantasies: a procession of people from the distant past, sexual images dating back forty years. They eventually fade away, leaving me in a dark, still space, painful and exhausting. The headache is less severe than sometimes - I do not need to groan in anguish. The nausea is more problematic, however, and I feel afraid. I know the pattern. I shall not be free of the pain until the entire process has played itself out completely.
Seven hours later, I am retching from deep inside my intestines. 'Please come out' I implore, as the slowly growing but obstinate clenching sensations refuse to reach their conclusion. The earlier phases, hours before, are easy to handle, coming from the stomach proper. Each successive series of convulsions emanates from a deeper point, however, and nothing can stop it. I try to relax and stay quiet in bed, but this is not always the best thing. The sound of Martha walking downstairs is enough to disturb my false equilibrium and bring on another session of necessary retching. Once the final bodyquake has issued from a spot way below the belly button I recognise the signs immediately, and can once more look forward to a future.
For mild migraines, a medicine called Migraleve can relieve the symptoms. Working in classic symptomatic medicine style, it contains painkiller for the headache and an anti-nausea ingredient for the gut. I also have a pill entitled Sumatriptan. If taken in time, it is like magic, cutting off the symptoms and permitting me to go to work, climb a hill, or whatever. I am not fond of Sumatriptan, however, and use it sparingly. Sumatriptan works by narrowing the blood vessels which dilate during a migraine through the agent of serotonin. It can leave me with a muddy feeling the day after, as if a mysterious but necessary psycho-physical process has been artificially cut off. Temporary relief, but no guarantee that it is beneficial in the longer term. In contrast, a migraine allowed to run its course may leave me feeling light, purified, and refreshed.
It is fair to say that, behind its armoury of medications, orthodox medicine does not understand what migraine is at all. It can wax lyrical about symptoms and dealing with the effects, but that is all. It is strange for ones life to be overwhelmed from time-to-time by a condition which root is unknown, but you get to live with the fact. My own experience over almost two decades points to migraine being a disturbance in the energy field, but this is not the kind of statement that has conventional medical researchers jumping up and down with excitement. There is probably somebody out there - in a village in the depths of the Amazon rainforest maybe, or deeply versed in the arts of acupuncture - who actually knows. My own task is simply to become more proactive, and discover what is out there in the first place.
