Friday, July 31, 2015

Head Pain and The M-Word

Head Pain and The M-Word

It began with obscure body aches around the time I entered puberty, at age ten or eleven. I was aware of a general malaise, a feeling of not being able to function at my best potential. As a preteen, I figured that this was part of growing up that every kid faced, though, none of my peers in school ever complained of it.  Then started a constant, dull headache around the time of the body pain, and weak attempts were made to assess the culprit. Since the headaches centered in my forehead, with a deep pressure, like a balloon was pushed up my nose to my sinuses and was being filled with air, to the point that I felt my head would explode, we all assumed it was allergies or sinuses. After diagnostic exams and allergy tests were done with nothing standing out to the ENTs and allergists, I was given the diagnosis of chronic sinusitis, and put on a long-lasting, non-drowsy antihistamine, that just so happened to be the cure-all-end-all of allergy sufferers of the mid-90's, Claritin.

Then, a couple years later, came the "M" word: migraines (migraine with aura, in my case, something that happens to about 20-33% of migraine sufferers) . The nausea, fatigue, confusion, dizziness, panic-y feeling that accompanied the stabbing, throbbing pain in the temples, one or both sides of the head, the forehead, the back of the head. You see, the migraines weren't content to occur in the same place each time, like the sinus headaches I was reluctantly getting used to, nor do the present themselves the same way each time. No, they changed each time, as if playing a cruel game of "Guess-Where-and-How-It'll-Happen-Next-Time!". 

One doesn't understand the incapacitating effect a migraine has on its victim, unless one has experienced it first hand. A migraine is NOT simply "a really bad headache", but rather, a cascade of symptoms resulting in, many times, the utter incapacitation of the victim for periods of 4- 72 hours, and sometimes longer. Auras: sensing things that aren’t there (akin to hallucinations, but not caused by psychological illness); visual, olfactory, physical, and occasionally auditory for me, were part of the precursor, called the "prodrome", that warned this hapless victim that the agonizing pain was coming, most of the time. Sometimes the pain just popped out of nowhere. Also included in the prodrome were confusion, fatigue, and irritability, as well as uncontrollable yawning and other oddities . 

Finally, the pain. Oh, the pain. Wave upon wave of nauseating pain. I remember my mother telling me (in a futile attempt to comfort me) that she sometimes got migraines as a young adult, and she would get so nauseous she would vomit, then the migraine went away. I have yet been able to vomit from a migraine, but not from lack of nausea. And believe me, I have tried. One thing's for sure, I will never suffer from bulimia, for I cannot make myself throw up, no matter how many fingers I stick down my throat. 

And, there was no relief of the pain. Popping Tylenol (acetaminophen), Aspirin and Aleve (naproxen) was of little help (I am allergic to ibuprofen or Advil and Motrin, or I would have included this NSAID). Combining the above medicines with caffeine helped, and I would often drink a strong cup of coffee with the start of a migraine, as long as my stomach permitted it. Combining an NSAID (Aleve or Aspirin) with Tylenol (acetaminophen), helped some, too. The best combination I found was Excedrin, which combines the mild analgesics of Tylenol and Aspirin, with the 'pain-relieving aid' caffeine. These were a god-send, at first, allowing me to function enough through a migraine and do my school work. As the migraines become more and more frequent, so did my consumption of Excedrin. 

Inevitably, I was soon stuck in the cycle of rebound headaches. In short, the body gets used to having certain chemicals (Tylenol and/or caffeine in my case) in it, and when deprived of those chemicals, re-creates the cause (the headache) that results in the desired effect of getting more of the chemical (in my case more Excedrin). Soon, I was far exceeding the recommended daily allowance of the medicine in a desperate attempt to find relief, at times regularly taking over twice the limit. I’m surprised my liver survived the assault. 

Upon seeing a new neurologist in my late teens, and, confiding in her how much I abused this medicine, I was ordered to stop the Excedrin and any extra consumption of caffeine. I was terrified at the prospect of life with out my crutch, and I broke down into tears in the office. She consoled me and acknowledged that the next couple weeks would be hell, but after the chemicals had slowly left my system (a process that takes about two weeks), the rebound headaches would stop, and treatment of the migraines could begin, with a well-touted drug called Imitrex (sumatriptan). I felt something I couldn’t identify with. Hope.

Thursday, July 30, 2015

The Debate of Pain

The Debate of Pain


As a sufferer of chronic pain for many trying years, I find myself wanting to reach out to others and try to help by offering insight in the world of chronic pain to other sufferers, their loved ones, and those who are curious. 

My goal is not to press new information into the hands of those who don't want it, to insist of new, unproven remedies, but to gently encourage and show that, yes, it is possible to live a full life within the confines of pain, but, perhaps not in the way you'd imagine. 

My earliest memory of chronic pain began with headaches, and, then, their fiercer and more evil cousins, migraines. Then I herniated my L5-S1 disk when I was seventeen, and, eventually, the disk wore out, and I was diagnosed with degenerative disk disease (DDD) after a fall at work in 2011, and then became unable to work. I had to file for disability, a process that took two and a half years to get approved for, and another six months to get benefits from the Social Security Administration. During this time in limbo, I entered my “Dark Days”, a period of about three years that were filled with doctor appointments, failing treatments, hospitalizations for depression and suicidal thoughts, and, of course, PAIN. All the while I had general muscle pain, which I now know is fibromyalgia. Then, about a year and a half ago, came the joint pain that was diagnosed as psoriatic arthritis (PSA). “What will happen next?”, I sometimes wonder.

But, somehow, as a caterpillar undergoes metamorphoses while in an apparent state of limbo, I seem to have changed into something more than a person whose life was dictated by pain, and could think of nothing else. Something much more. I understand that I will probably always have pain in this imperfect body, but that’s okay. Instead of fighting it, I accept it and work with it. It’s like I see light at the end of a tunnel. I see a future. I feel hopeful. I have faith. I will not give up.