After crying over the royal family, I knew I needed an antidepressant sooner than it would take to convince my insurance company to cover Viibryd. Since the dizziness had almost subsided and I didn’t want to wait to get a prescription for yet another drug, I tried increasing my Wellbutrin dose to what it was before the four-day migraine attack in January. No additional dizziness. In fact, it finally stopped the residual dizziness that had kept me unsteady. I’ve been back at my pre-migraine dose for two weeks and am doing fine.
I’m frustrated with the constantly moving target that is my health, but I’m also fascinated by it. The migraine attack changed my brain and, through my reaction to an unrelated medication, I was able to see my brain change back to it’s pre-migraine state. I knew that would happen, but being able to observe it was unusual.
It’s just one of the many changes I’ve been able to observe in my body now that I don’t have a migraine all the time. I can feel fine, but if my feet are freezing, I know I’m in the early stages of an attack. I can be writing for hours and thinking at full capacity, then notice that constructing sentences has suddenly become difficult. Even when eating doesn’t trigger a migraine attack, it can hint at one for a while and I’ll have to stop working until it resolves, which is usually does within an hour without medication. These are just a few examples of the many new reactions I can see in my body.
It would seem like someone who has had chronic migraine for as long as I have would have figured these things out by now. That was impossible, though, because the migraine attacks never stopped. I didn’t have a clear idea of my prodrome symptoms because I never knew when a migraine was ramping up again. I had experienced the metal fading before, but only recognized it when I was already deep into the attack. Now I notice within a few minutes after the cognitive dysfunction begins.
Despite knowing that identifying triggers and prodrome symptoms would be crucial to managing attacks, it seemed like an elusive, if not impossible, goal for most of my time with chronic migraine. I kept trying, even though it was terribly frustrating and I had a lot of misattributions along the way. I’m glad I did. It’s even more valuable that I imagined it would be. I’m more able to avoid migraine attacks now that I was even a year ago and I can take triptans at the earliest possible moment, which reduces the total time I spend in a migraine attack. At least once a week, I take a triptan and only slow down for 30 minutes before I’m fully functional again. I had a “bad” one yesterday—at least really bad for how they get these days—the pain hit a 6 and I was down for six hours. That’s a Sunday drive compared to how they used to be.
I still credit DAO with most of my improvement and my diet is second, but the benefits of knowing triggers and prodrome symptoms continue to increase. With 40 foods in my diet still and only adding two new foods in the last seven months, I often feel like I’m stuck. Then I remember how much shorter my attacks have become and that my cognitive impairment has decreased so much that I’m able to write through more migraine attacks than I’ve been able to in at least eight years. I’ve changed nothing treatment-wise since September, yet, on average, each month is a little better than the last. It’s a slow, slow climb, but I’m still climbing.
I always worry that I sound like I’m bragging or showing people up when I write about my improvement. I share it so you can know that improvement is possible and that even when if feels like you’re totally stuck, you could be making progress that you can’t yet see. When you feel terrible physically, it can seem like you’re failing yourself by not actively searching for and trying new treatments. Sometimes holding on is the best you can do for a while. I know that’s terribly clichéd, but it’s meaning is exactly what I wish to convey. Know that it won’t always be this bad. Instead of criticizing yourself, try to give yourself some love. You need it and deserve it.
That turned more “rah-rah” than I expected. I won’t delete it because it’s something I wish I’d come across five years ago. Since I’m a cheerleader baring my heart, I want to add this: I may not know you by name, but I do think of you all and wish the best for every one of you. I haven’t been in the exact place that you’ve been in, but I’ve lived through years that I have no idea how I survived. I believe you can do it, too. It may not feel like it, but you can.