“Writing is a struggle against silence.” Carlos Fuentes

This is a very whiny post, so skip it if you are having even a marginally good day, because I am not. And I’m not even bitter that your are having something good–envious is more like what I feel. Envious that there are wonderful thing happening and I’m missing out on them.


I am feeling sorry for my own self. I’ve had a cluster headache every day since February 1. Not only do I know everyone at my clinic, I know everyone at the ER, too. Clusters are not migraines, although that is usually how we refer to them as. They are much worse. I broke my arm and shattered my shoulder in December (oddly, getting my shoes on to go in for a shot for my head). You know what hurt worse? My head.
The whole time the x-ray guy was mauling me around, I was asking when I would e getting my shot. So if you are having an ordinary day with your kids or your dogs or the rain or the snow–I envy you. I’d give anything to have just one day where it didn’t feel like evil spirits were in a war inside my head, trying to burrow out through my eye socket. Or a day  where it didn’t feel like I have a hay hook in my eye socket trying to pull my skull apart. Or a day where I didn’t have a fish knife jabbed into my eye socket, trying to get out on the other side. I understand why the Aztecs drilled holes in their heads. If I thought it would work, I’d give it a try.
People who know (like doctors who specialize in this or people who have clusters) will tell you it is the worst pain imaginable. I had a 10+ pound baby after 48 hours of labor. Piece of cake. I raised two children on my own. Nothing to it. My car was hit by an big rig in the fog. It took six hours to extricate my out from under it. Except for being cold, it was pretty lightweight. I was hit head-on in a Caddy v Pinto and went through the windshield. I had on a new bra and was more worried about getting the bloodstains out of it than anything else.
I would only wish this kind of pain on one other person on the planet. One. Becasue she is making life a living hell for someone I love dearly. They call them suicide headaches because sometimes that really seems like the only way out of it. (Don’t worry; my house is not clean enough for me to do it. I would e embarrassed beyond belief to have strangers looking around.)
I was always the girl who would faint when I got a shot and now I get six of them almost daily.And I watch them do it.  Watching helps because it’s not the needle, it’s the medication that hurts. And if it burns like the dickens, I know it is going to work.
These headaches have taken my life away from me. It has taken my husband (who wants to be with a crybaby?), my children (I’m the mother..I should be doing fun things with them like going to the movies, not to the ER).
I’m starting to really believe that I have done something so hideous, so evil, so bad in my life that this is the payback. There is no cure for these headaches. None. There isn’t even medication for them. I took an early retirement from a profession I have loved for 44 years. I wish I had worked until I dropped because then, at least, someone would have missed me. My husband doesn’t deserve this. My children don’t deserve this. Even my dogs deserve better. If I knew what I had done, what this is a punishment for, I would just suck it up but I can’t think of anything. I haven’t been an angel but I really have tried my best. Maye I’m like Hitler…my idea of of my best is so horrendous that it defies description.
So if you know someone who has chronic headaches, just be supportive. You’ll get sick of having plans canceled because of headaches. They do, too. The present they live in is not anything like life. There is no cure, no hope, no good days ahead for them. A coupleof good hours every week or so is their realty and mine. It is as much fun eing their friend as it is being them. And since cluster headaches “only” affect a very small percentage of the population, there are no drug companies looking for a drug that would provide relief because there is no money in it.
Well, that is enough for that. Feeling sorry for myself doesn’t help either and is pretty damn depressing, to boot.

One thought on ““Writing is a struggle against silence.” Carlos Fuentes

  1. ((((((((((((((((((((((Chloe))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))
    Does anything work to distract you from he pain? Can you bear anyone to touch you – maybe a stroking massage or even a deep contact one….no, maybe not that last one. I wish, with all my heart, there were something I could do to help. I can offer prayer x

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