Excruciating Agony: My Fight Against the Mysterious Pain of Cluster Headache Syndrome
It was a gloomy Monday in the morning in September 2016. I worked as a teacher, trying to settle a new group of students, when a sudden sensation erupted behind my right eye. Then came rapid stabs, reminiscent of lightning bolts. As the school day came and went, the discomfort subsided and then came back with greater force. Multiple times that day I handed over a colleague with worksheets and ran to the school bathroom to douse my face with cool water. I took ibuprofen, but the pain remained unrelenting.
The attacks returned repeatedly that fall, and once more in spring, soon establishing an annual cycle. The autumn months were the worst, then February and March. I could anticipate the pattern: aura in the shower, early twinges on the commute, full-blown pain in class by mid-morning. In late 2019, a GP finally referred me to a specialist and I was diagnosed with cluster headache disorder.
This condition typically begin with intense pain behind a single eye that persists up to three hours.
About 1 in 1000 people are affected by the condition, and men are more frequently diagnosed. Attacks usually start with sudden, excruciating pain focused on one eye that peaks within minutes and continues for up to three hours. Episodes occur in cycles, daily or several times a day, and are associated with tearing eyes, drooping eyelids or facial sweating. I have the episodic form, which arrives in periodic bouts; some patients have continuous attacks, defined by the absence of extended pain-free periods.
What connects sufferers is the severity. One research paper scored the pain at 9.7 out of 10, higher than bone fractures or pancreatitis. Another found a significant percentage of cluster patients experienced suicidal thoughts during attacks; the figure dropped to 4% when they were not in pain.
One patient, in her seventies, a long-term sufferer from Pembrokeshire, finds this understandable. Her attacks started when she was two. “I would hurl myself on the ground and hit my head. That was attributed to being a difficult child,” she says. Her condition deteriorated through her youth. Alcohol in her adolescence, similar to many triggers, made things worse. After drinking sherry at her graduation party, she remembers hardly being able to see on the bus home.
Her family often interpreted her episodes as intoxicated behavior. Support finally came from her father and then from her partner, Rod. “I was very fortunate to find such an exceptional person,” she says. Hobbs took office work after moving, but often concealed her condition. She was dismissed from one job, partly due to absences during attacks. Her definitive identification came in the early 2000s at a specialist neurology center.
Still, the failure to plan daily activities around erratic 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 children during the paralysis caused by the worst episodes. “It robs you of the simple freedoms we don't appreciate until they're gone,” she says. She remembers obtaining tickets for a significant concert, only to have an episode inside a facility.
Headaches have been documented throughout history. “The earliest description of headache originates from the ancient civilizations in 4000BC,” write experts in a book on the subject. They linked the ailment to an malevolent entity who attacked his victims' heads.
Ancient healing texts propose unusual remedies for what modern experts would classify as a headache disorder. In the medieval times, migraine was recognised as a separate disorder, with treatments ranging from bloodletting to other, more folk cures.
It was a European physician who provided the initial detailed description of a cluster-type attack. In his medical observations, he describes a patient “suffering with a very severe headache happening and vanishing daily at specific hours”.
The disorder were only formally classified by global medical societies in 1988. From the mid-20th century to the 1990s, they were believed to be caused by a issue with a key blood vessel which delivers blood to the brain. Prominent experts in diagnosing the condition explain this.
In 1998, researchers released the results of a study for which they had triggered cluster headaches in patients and monitored the episodes in a imaging machine. The data, featured in a major journal, showed activation of the hypothalamus, which is responsible for human circadian rhythm, when patients were in pain, and a deactivation when they felt better.
In spite of such progress, identification remains slow. One man's attacks started in the 1980s and felt like “a modelling balloon being blown up behind my one eye”. GPs thought he had sinus problems; he underwent multiple surgeries before eventually being diagnosed in 2014, after a physician researched his complaints.
Neurologists say wait times in diagnosis and treatment occur because patients are rarely seen mid-attack. “You're exhausted and depressed, but not in severe pain,” a doctor says. He works by ruling out other primary headache disorders, such as migraine, before diagnosing cluster headaches. A thorough patient history is crucial: on which part of the head do symptoms occur? For how much time? What season? Are there triggers, such as certain foods? Certain characteristics such as tearing, sagging eyelids and stuffy nose help confirm cluster headaches. Once diagnosed, patients may be sent to dedicated clinics. But many first arrive to A&E or are given inadequate treatments.
Dorothy Chapman, in her late seventies, has suffered from the condition for the majority of her adult life, although she hasn't had an attack since 2016. When she was in her 20s, she had her teeth extracted because dental professionals misunderstood her symptoms. She thinks dentists still need greater education. When another patient sought help from a charity, it was Chapman who replied. I remember calling a support line during an bout in early 2021; a reassuring advisor talked me through oxygen treatment and drugs until the episode eased.
National guidance on management recommend that sufferers are offered high-flow oxygen therapy and/or a specific drug delivered by nasal spray. No oral painkillers or strong analgesics should be used. Prophylactic choices include a blood pressure medication, which apparently soothes the attacks of some individuals.
But leading neurologists argue the guidance need revising to reflect a clearer clinical process and help general practitioners avoid incorrect prescriptions. For periodic patients, timing is critical: “The length of the bout determines the treatment.” Brief cycles with occasional episodes are managed with acute therapy only. More prolonged or more intense bouts require preventative medications such as verapamil, sometimes combined with steroids. Many patients also receive a nerve block injection during a cycle – an injection into the side of the head where the pain is that reduces nerve signals.
The national guidance need updating to reflect a