Unbearable Suffering: My Struggle With the Mysterious Pain of Cluster Headache Syndrome
It was a dreary Monday in the morning in September 2016. I worked as a teacher, attempting to manage a new group of students, when a sharp sensation erupted behind my right eye. This was followed by quick jolts, reminiscent of lightning bolts. As each class progressed, the pain subsided and then returned with greater force. Multiple times that day I left a teaching assistant with activities and hurried to the staff bathroom to douse my face with cool water. I tried paracetamol, but the pain remained unrelenting.
The attacks appeared frequently that autumn, and again in spring, soon forming an annual pattern. The autumn months were the most severe, then the late winter. I could anticipate the pattern: aura in the shower, early twinges on the train, full-on pain in class by 9.30am. In 2019, a doctor eventually referred me to a specialist and I was diagnosed with cluster headaches.
This condition often start with severe pain behind a single eye that persists for several hours.
About one in 1,000 people suffer by the disorder, and males are more frequently diagnosed. Cluster headaches typically start with abrupt, severe agony focused on one eye that peaks within minutes and continues for up to three hours. Attacks occur in cycles, every day or several times a day, and are associated with tearing eyes, drooping eyelids or facial sweating. I have an episodic type, which occurs in seasonal cycles; some patients have chronic cluster headaches, defined by the lack of extended symptom-free periods.
What unites patients is the intensity. One study rated the sensation at 9.7 out of 10, higher than bone fractures or other conditions. A separate discovered a significant percentage of cluster patients experienced thoughts of self-harm amid bouts; the figure dropped to four percent when they were pain-free.
Val Hobbs, in her seventies, a chronic sufferer from Pembrokeshire, finds this understandable. Her attacks began when she was a toddler. “I would throw myself on the floor and hit my head. That was put down to being spoiled,” she says. Her symptoms deteriorated through childhood. Alcohol in her adolescence, similar to many causes, made things worse. After drinking sherry at her school leaving party, she remembers barely being able to see on the transport home.
Her family often mistook her attacks as intoxicated behavior. Understanding eventually came from her father and then from her partner, Rod. “I was very fortunate to find such an understanding person,” she says. Hobbs took clerical work after moving, but often concealed her illness. She was dismissed from one job, in part due to absences during attacks. Her definitive diagnosis came in the early 2000s at a specialist hospital.
Nevertheless, the inability to organize life around unpredictable attacks took its toll. She especially disliked being unable to plan outings, being seen as unreliable as a colleague, and even having to be cared for by her family during the incapacitation caused by the most severe episodes. “It robs you of the small freedoms we don't appreciate until they're gone,” she says. She remembers winning tickets for a significant concert, only to have an attack inside a facility.
Headaches have been documented across the ages. “The first account of headache originates from the Mesopotamians in 4000BC,” write authors in a publication on the subject. They attributed the ailment to an evil entity who attacked his sufferers' heads.
Historical healing records propose bizarre treatments for what modern observers would describe as a headache disorder. In the medieval times, severe headache was recognised as a distinct disorder, with treatments including bloodletting to other, more folk remedies.
It was a Dutch doctor who provided the initial comprehensive account of a cluster-type attack. In his medical observations, he describes a patient “afflicted with a very intense headache occurring and vanishing each day at fixed hours”.
Cluster headaches were only formally recognised by international headache societies in 1988. From the mid-20th century to the 1990s, they were thought to be caused by a issue with a major artery that delivers blood to the brain. Prominent experts in treating the condition note this.
In 1998, researchers published the findings of a study for which they had triggered attacks in patients and monitored the episodes in a brain scanner. The results, featured in a prominent journal, showed activation of the a brain region, which is responsible for human circadian rhythm, when patients were in discomfort, and a deactivation when they felt better.
Despite such progress, identification remains delayed. One man's attacks began in the 1980s and felt like “a modelling balloon being inflated behind my left eye”. Doctors thought he had a sinus issue; he had multiple operations before finally being diagnosed in 2014, after a physician looked up his symptoms.
Neurologists say delays in diagnosis and treatment occur because patients are rarely seen mid-attack. “You're exhausted and low, but not in severe pain,” a doctor says. He works by ruling out other primary head pain disorders, such as tension-type headache, before confirming the disorder. A detailed patient history is crucial: on which part of the head do signs appear? For how much time? What time of year? Are there triggers, such as alcohol? Specific characteristics such as tearing, drooping eyelids and nasal congestion help confirm the diagnosis. Once diagnosed, patients may be sent to specialist centers. But many first go to emergency rooms or are given unsuitable therapies.
Dorothy Chapman, 78, has experienced the condition for the majority of her life, although she hasn't had an episode since recent years. When she was in her 20s, she had her teeth pulled because dental professionals misunderstood her pain. She thinks dentists still need greater awareness. When a sufferer sought help from a charity, it was she who responded. I remember calling a helpline during an attack in early 2021; a reassuring volunteer talked me through oxygen therapy and medication until the episode eased.
National guidelines on treatment advise that sufferers are offered high-dose oxygen and/or a anti-migraine drug administered by nasal spray. No tablets or opioids should be used. Preventive options include a blood pressure medication, which reportedly soothes the attacks of some individuals.
But leading neurologists believe the guidance need revising to reflect a more defined treatment process and help GPs avoid incorrect prescriptions. For episodic patients, timing is everything: “The length of the bout dictates the treatment.” Brief cycles with occasional episodes are handled with abortive treatment alone. Longer or more intense periods require preventative medications such as certain drugs, sometimes combined with corticosteroids. A significant number of patients also receive a nerve block injection during a cycle – an injection into the area of the head where the pain is that reduces nerve signals.
The official guidelines need revising to reflect a