Unbearable Agony: A Personal Fight With the Enigmatic Suffering of Cluster Headaches
It began on a dreary weekday morning in the autumn of 2016. I was working as a teacher, attempting to manage a new class, when a sudden sensation bloomed behind my one eye. It was followed by rapid stabs, like electric shocks. As the school day progressed, the discomfort eased and then returned with increased force. Four times that day I handed over a teaching assistant with worksheets and hurried to the staff bathroom to soak my face with cool water. I tried ibuprofen, but the pain remained unrelenting.
The headaches appeared repeatedly that autumn, and once more in spring, soon establishing an yearly pattern. The autumn months were the most severe, then the late winter. I could anticipate the routine: aura in the shower, early pangs on the commute, full-on pain in the classroom by mid-morning. In late 2019, a GP finally referred me to a specialist and I was diagnosed with cluster headache disorder.
This condition often start with severe pain behind one eye that persists for three hours.
About one in 1,000 people suffer by the condition, and men are more frequently diagnosed. Cluster headaches usually begin with abrupt, excruciating pain focused on one eye that peaks within a short time and lasts for up to three hours. Episodes come in clusters, every day or several times a day, and are accompanied by tearing eyes, sagging eyelids or face sweating. I have an episodic type, which occurs in periodic bouts; others have chronic attacks, defined by the absence of extended symptom-free periods.
What connects patients is the severity. One study scored the sensation at 9.7 out of 10, more severe than bone fractures or other conditions. Another discovered a significant percentage of cluster headache patients experienced suicidal thoughts during bouts; the number dropped to 4% when they were not in pain.
Val Hobbs, 74, a chronic sufferer from Pembrokeshire, isn't surprised. Her attacks began when she was a toddler. “I would hurl myself on the floor and bang my head. That was attributed to being a difficult child,” she says. Her symptoms worsened through childhood. Alcohol in her teens, like several triggers, made things worse. After drinking alcohol at her graduation party, she recalls barely being able to see on the transport home.
Her relatives often interpreted her episodes as intoxicated episodes. Understanding finally came from her father and then from her husband, Rod. “I was very lucky to find such an exceptional person,” she says. Hobbs found office work after moving, but often hid her condition. 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 failure to plan life around erratic attacks took its effect. She especially hated being unable to plan social events, being seen as unreliable as a colleague, and even having to be looked after by her family during the paralysis caused by the worst episodes. “It steals from you of the small liberties we don't value until they're gone,” she says. She remembers obtaining tickets for a major concert, only to have an episode inside a portable toilet.
Headaches have been described throughout the ages. “The earliest description of headache originates from the Mesopotamians in antiquity,” write experts in a book on the topic. They attributed the disease to an evil entity who afflicted his sufferers' heads.
Historical medical records suggest unusual remedies for what some experts would describe as a migraine. In the medieval times, migraine was recognised as a distinct condition, with therapies ranging from bloodletting to other, more superstitious cures.
It was a European physician who provided the initial detailed description of a cluster-type attack. In his medical observations, he speaks of a patient “suffering with a very severe headache occurring and vanishing daily at specific hours”.
Cluster headaches were only formally recognised by international headache committees in the late 1980s. From the 1960s to the 1990s, they were believed to be caused by a issue with a major artery which delivers blood to the head. Prominent specialists in diagnosing the disorder note this.
In the late 1990s, scientists released the findings of a research project for which they had induced attacks in patients and monitored the attacks in a brain scanner. The data, published in a prominent medical publication, showed increased activity of the hypothalamus, which is in charge for human circadian rhythm, when patients were in discomfort, and a reduction when they recovered.
In spite of such progress, identification remains slow. One man's symptoms started in the 1980s and felt like “a balloon being inflated behind my one eye”. Doctors thought he had a sinus issue; he underwent multiple operations before finally being diagnosed in 2014, after a physician looked up his complaints.
Neurologists say delays in diagnosis and treatment happen because patients are rarely seen mid-attack. “You're exhausted and depressed, but not in agony,” a doctor says. He proceeds by ruling out other primary head pain conditions, such as tension-type headache, before diagnosing the disorder. A thorough history is essential: on which side do symptoms appear? For how long? What season? Are there triggers, such as certain foods? Certain characteristics such as redness, drooping eyelids and nasal congestion help verify the diagnosis. Once identified, patients may be sent to specialist clinics. But many first go to emergency rooms or are given unsuitable treatments.
A charity trustee, 78, has suffered from the condition for the majority of her adult life, although she hasn't had an attack since recent years. When she was in her 20s, she had her molars extracted because dental professionals misunderstood her symptoms. She thinks dentists still need greater education. When another patient sought help from a charity, it was she who replied. The author recalls calling a helpline during an attack in 2021; a calm volunteer talked me through oxygen treatment and medication until the attack eased.
National guidance on treatment advise that sufferers are offered high-dose oxygen and/or a specific medication delivered by nasal spray. No oral painkillers or opioids should be used. Preventive options include verapamil, which reportedly helps manage the bouts of some individuals.
But leading neurologists argue the guidance need updating to reflect a more defined treatment pathway and help GPs avoid misprescribing. For periodic patients, the treatment window is everything: “The duration of the bout determines the approach.” Brief cycles with occasional attacks are handled with abortive therapy only. More prolonged or more intense periods require preventives such as verapamil, sometimes paired with corticosteroids. Many patients also receive a greater occipital nerve block during a cycle – an procedure into the area of the head where the discomfort is that reduces nerve activity.
The national guidelines need updating to reflect a