Triptan Terrors

Triptan Terrors

My trial and error session with the triptans, as the group of new abortive migraine medications were called, was mostly error. Triptans were a relatively new class of drug at the end of the last century. They were designed to be taken at the first sign of a migraine and work by stopping the migraine before it took full force over the mind and body. They were powerful, promising drugs, and, to many migraine sufferers, a lifesaver. But, not for me. 

Just like most any other medication, powerful effects also meant the possibility of powerful side effects. And my side effects were not pretty. I was allowed to take it only two days a week. Having to decide which day I wanted to try to get relief and feel better was hard, to say the least. I wanted to feel better everyday. Since the medications worked best when taken as early as possible, preferably during the prodrome, I had to figure out when a migraine was starting. This was difficult, as by then, my head pains ran all together in a muddled mess and there was difficulty in distinguishing where sinus pain ended and migraine pain began.

I found that after every dose I would take, I would get what I thought of as “neuralgia”, a term my sister had coined to describe the side effects we both experienced. I didn’t realize at the time that this was, indeed, a true medical term. She had just used the scientific words for nerve (neuro) and pain (algia), to describe the sensations we experienced. And, literally, my nerves hurt, well, the nerve endings. I felt on fire at times, other times breathing was painful, my finger tips and skin hurt. It got to the point by the third or fourth different drug I tried, Zomig (zolmitriptan), that my hair follicles would hurt, and a soft breeze teasing my locks would be excruciating. After a couple times of experiencing this with Zomig, my neurologist wrote off the mighty class of triptans, and continued to search elsewhere.

I began to feel discouraged, and my depression started to get ahold of me, negativity oozing from me and my thoughts constantly, a grip that I wouldn't be able to shake for over a decade. I was diagnosed at 16 with chronic depression, and have continued to fight the battle of negativity and apathy through the years, and continue to do so today. As a matter of fact, I am fighting the emotions right now. Being able to acknowledge the feelings, and allowing them to take their course while knowing what they are, and not taking them seriously helps minimize their effects on my mood. Still, the chronic pain wears me out, and when I'm tired, I am most vulnerable to feelings of hopelessness and being overwhelmed.