Even though it was fifty-six years ago, to the month, if not to the week and the day, I have a pretty clear memory of the very first migraine headache I ever had. School was about to start, and I wanted to play basketball as a new freshman at Sturgis Junior High (Kentucky, not South Dakota). So, I ran several laps around our house as a preliminary physical conditioning warmup.

By the time I finished, I had the worst headache of my life. I went inside, lay down on the couch. Mom, noting that I never came in and lay down on the couch in the middle of the day, asked me what was wrong. I told her and she got me a glass of water and a couple of aspirin. Good intentions notwithstanding, the aspirin had zero impact.

Over the years, I’d have random hits, nearly always beginning with some sort of visual aura. Sometimes, there were blank spots in my vision. Sometimes, it was like looking out over a gas tank or a bare field on a hot day when you see ripples in the air. “Vapor vision,” I called it. Then, more as I got older, there would be these stunning geometric shapes with incredibly brilliant colors that would pulse and shimmer and move across my field of vision. It didn’t matter if my eyes were open or shut; the aura continued. The images always moved from left to right.

Sometimes, about fifteen to thirty minutes after the aura, I’d get a nearly debilitating headache. Sometimes, it would only be painful. Sometimes, especially in the past decade or so, the pain level would only be annoying. I frequently found that making myself go ahead and be physically active was more therapeutic than vegetating on the couch. Probably a combination of increased circulation and the mental distraction of whatever I was doing.

Even though I’ve kept that clear memory of the first headache ever since August of 1967, it was only a couple of weeks ago that I realized what probably triggered it.

Nearly everything that I’ve ever taken to fight allergy symptoms has been an antihistamine of some sort. Nearly all of them trigger migraines. Just Sunday afternoon, I snorted a dose of Nasonex because I was weary of the constant sniffling and blowing my nose every fifteen minutes. Sure enough, a day later I got another migraine.

My very first experience with antihistamine was Polaramine (dexchlorpheniramine), the little red pills a doctor prescribed to a young teenager in West Kentucky to relieve allergy symptoms. Guess when? Yep, summer of 1967.

Why in the world it took me so long to make that connection is beyond me. Seems pretty darn obvious since I’ve known for thirty or forty years antihistamine is one of my most consistent migraine triggers. But then, my species is pretty darn adept at missing the obvious, overlooking the reasonable and rational, and continually searching for alternative explanations that fit better with our prejudices and preferred inclinations.

I suppose that’s why we keep trying to blame our sins, character defects, and bad choices on someone else. There is something oddly and perhaps perversely reassuring about that. “It’s not really me, right?”

Whether it’s personal allergies or societal failures, our awareness of and admission of the true causes does not alter reality. But, Boy Howdy, our awareness of reality surely does unlock the potential for effective intervention, doesn’t it?!

“Whoa, you’re right; it’s always been me, hasn’t it?”

H. Arnett

8/9/2023