My Family History and Migraine
I’ve read stories about migraine warriors who have had a mother or grandmother lead the way when it comes to recognizing and dealing with migraine symptoms. It must have been nice to have someone guide them through lifestyle changes and treatment options. I envy the tribal knowledge passed down from one generation to the next. That would have been nice.
My story was different. There was no family history of migraine on my mother’s side of the family at all. Dad didn’t have the illness either. When I began experiencing symptoms in the late 1960s, my parents didn’t know what was happening. The frequency of attacks was only one or two a year, and there were plenty of other things for them to worry about other than my occasional “headache.”
After a few years, my mom noticed something. When we went to holiday gatherings on my dad’s side of the family, we often had to wait for late arrivals, so lunch would be late. Every time this happened, I got one of what we called “Tammy’s headaches” and ended up vomiting. Mom started making sure I ate something closer to my regular mealtime, and the problem appeared solved.
She took me to the doctor anyway to find out if there was anything else she should be doing to alleviate my problem. The doctor told her I was probably allergic to something. Nothing to worry about. Just keep an eye out for what might be the culprit, but otherwise go about daily business. And so, I functioned through grade school, high school, and college.
I lived in ignorance right up until a co-worker found out about my problem and said, “You have migraines.” She said it as if it was as obvious as telling me, “You have a nose on your face.” She put a name on what I had grown to believe was my weakness, my inability to cope with the same kind of headaches everyone else got.
I’m not sure what surprised me the most – the identification of the pain that plagued me for years or the feeling of strength that came from knowing it wasn’t my fault. For the next 20 years, I studied my nemesis, identified my triggers, and discovered the best treatment method for my episodic migraines. Knowledge empowered me.
Somewhere in my 40s, one of my aunts stopped by for a visit. I don’t remember why Dad’s sister came by to chat, but there must have been a reason. My family didn’t usually see me unless there was a reason to do so. The migraine episode I had the day before came up in my attempt to make small talk. Her nonchalant response was, “Your grandma had those.”
This revelation stunned me. I thought I was an anomaly, a black sheep of the family. My aunt told me my grandma would retreat to a bedroom until her headache went away. I had no idea. By the time I was born, Grandma was well into menopause, so I never witnessed her having an episode.
I sat flabbergasted for a few seconds before I asked why no one had ever told me this before. My aunt didn’t know and shrugged it off. Ever since then, I’ve teetered between being angry and hurt. I didn’t have to feel alone and weak. I could have had answers to questions, but instead, I lived decades of my life without a guiding hand. Migraine has made me accustomed to pain, but being unseen is a different kind of hurt.
I want to believe that my family’s oversight wasn’t personal, but I have a tough time just shrugging it off. I do appreciate knowing where I stand, though. I see myself and my illness more clearly now. This is one reason I write this blog. I understand that a migraineur’s pain may not be obvious. I hope what I share here helps people live a better life with migraines. You and I may not be family by blood, but I want you to know that you are not alone.
Originally published at WebMD.com on 11/18/24.
