migraine prodrome

Migraine Phase One | Prodrome

~ Heather Davis ~ 4 Comments

But now thus says the LORD, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.

Isaiah 43:1-2

You know those cartoon characters walking around with their own personal rainclouds? I imagine a similar scenario for myself during the prodromal phase of migraine—except in place of a cute little raincloud, a Category 5 hurricane dogs my steps, turning innocent actions like removing eggs from the fridge into preternatural disasters. That’s my typical presentation. Less often, I feel good during the prodrome. Like really, really good. Skipping-around-singing, “On Top of the World” like-a-lunatic good. Which isn’t so bad until the moment I realize what’s coming…

My personal hurricanes typically last for around 12-48 hours, though rarely they hang on for thee full days. Thankfully those times are cut short or nothing breakable in my home would survive. This is usually the longest phase of migraine for me, and this will be the longest of the migraine posts in honor of June as Migraine Awareness Month. Bear with me. 😉

Other than epic klutziness and breakdown of anything resembling hand-eye coordination during the prodrome, I also enjoy a failure to recognize spatial relationships. For example, I might take a drink and place my water bottle almost – but not quite – on my desk.

Aphasia often drops in during the prodrome, too, along with difficulty concentrating. Words and thoughts get twisted up between brain and tongue, or they careen around my skull like insane and highly caffeinated squirrels who refuse to work together, or they get lost entirely.

Though frustrating, aphasia is excellent at keeping my pride in check. In fact, sometimes my pride is so embarrassed by the rhetorical ruin that it moves out for a time and pretends not to know me when we bump into one another in the market.

Aphasia in Living Color

There are also less tangible symptoms: a sense of being utterly despised and rejected by everyone, including God, or an irrational desire to commit acts of murder most foul on inanimate objects. Luckily, my brain has already peaced-out by this time and I can neither find an appropriate tool for the job nor remember what the job was – or even what a tool is, for that matter.

Then there’s the mysterious (to me) quality of voice my husband detects as easily as one might detect a smallish pachyderm enjoying a snack in one’s kitchen; an elephant entirely undetectable to yours truly. He describes this vocal quality as sounding panicky. At which point, I mentally describe him with a few choice words, incensed at his insensitivity.

Alas, that too is a prodromal symptom.

This is a bare sampling from the grab bag of migraine prodrome symptoms, but the list can extend into some pretty strange realms. Pounding heart, unslakable thirst, feeling warm to the touch – you get the picture.

Despite being mostly painless, I dislike the prodrome most because it is the phase where I find it hardest to cling to God. But praise Him! By His grace, these are the times I realize (in retrospect) HE is clinging to me.

The only saving grace of prodrome is that in the thick of this howling and chaotic neurological cyclone, I have most often heard His still, small voice. He does not speak to me every time, but in the season when my migraines were more regular the US Mail, I heard His voice more often as well.

And what a wonder to know – really know – that the One who stilled the storm on Lake Tiberias so many years ago is the same One who holds me in the midst of a storm that causes me to lose my grip on everything.

And he awoke and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm. He said to them, “Why are you so afraid? Have you still no faith?”

Mark 4:39-40

If you’ve made it this far, I hope you’ve learned and maybe had a laugh. But mostly, I pray that whether you suffer from migraine or not, you will come to know and love my Lord. He knows and love you already. If you belong to Him, nothing can take you from His hand, no matter how strong the storm or deep the darkness. Trust me on this.

My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all, and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father’s hand.

John 10:27-29

An Unlikely Time for Praise

~ Heather Davis ~ 4 Comments

A Psalm for giving thanks. Make a joyful noise to the LORD, all the earth! Serve the LORD with gladness! Come into his presence with singing!
(Psalms 100:1-2)

As much as I wish this Psalm described every day of my Christian walk, it does not. Actually, I must confess that it describes a state of mind entirely unlike the one I found myself in yesterday.

In fact, had I been in a more cheerful mood, I may have snickered at the irony of this Psalm coming up, not once or twice, but in three different places throughout my day beginning with my Bible study over — of all seemingly unrelated things — the book of Nehemiah.

But I was not in a cheerful mood. Not at all. And I did not even so much as grin.

Unfortunately for me and everyone else in my home, yesterday found me fully immersed in the first stage of a migraine; a fun little experience known as the prodrome. 

While I do not always experience prodrome with my migraines, I typically (although not always) go through it before a particularly persistent one. And if I can be baldly honest with you, I’d rather have the migraine pain any day than the wretched, beastly prodrome.

For me, the prodrome occurs as little as 12 hours before or as long as 72 hours before a migraine attack. Yesterday was Day 2. Ugh.

Indulge me for a moment and allow me an attempt at describing this phenomenon. Sometimes it is sudden, striking while I am sailing along blithely teaching my one remaining homeschool student or cheerily washing the 11,016 cups that my family of five manages to use in a single day. At such times, I become very abruptly and irrationally furious.

Other times I wake up in a funk that I cannot shake no matter what, or I may feel as if every single body part is made of lead and I am trying to maneuver through a space filled with molasses. Or all of the above.

Without fail, the prodrome involves some level of extreme anger and/or depression along with a stimulating variety of physical symptoms such as an absolutely outrageous thirst, difficulty saying words, mixing up my words, crushing fatigue, clumsiness, and inability to concentrate. But the worst part of the prodrome is a terrifying sense of impenetrable spiritual darkness.

Give me pain any day. Seriously.

You see, pain is something I can handle. I’m actually rather well practiced at the management and endurance of physical pain, admittedly sometimes to a fault.

But that darkness, though… It makes me shudder. There’s a particularly horrendous quality to it that I cannot even put into words. At one point or another, every single migraine prodrome I can remember has seen me tearfully crying out to my God, begging Him not to turn His back on me.

At such times, I truly feel as if He is utterly absent from my life and I am entirely alone. Almost equally disturbing is bizarre mental sensation of being gradually crushed by a hideous, palpable blackness.

There are not even words…  I think it is something like a private glimpse into hell.

Whether this event is merely a quirk caused by a disturbance in the chemical balance of my brain or whether it is because my enemy takes advantage of the pre-migraine chemical chaos to hurl every accusation he can muster against my God and myself, I do not know. All I know is that I loathe it completely.

And yet…

My amazing God, my marvelous and awe-inspiring King is using even this unlikely tool to teach me more about Him.  Each time it happens, even as I choke out the words, “Where ARE You?!?” some part of me knows that He is still there.

Sometimes, as the accusations fly or despair throttles my ability to reason, I hear a tiny, almost imperceptible whisper, “You know what this is, Heather. Hang in there; you know it will pass.”

And yesterday in the middle of an emotional desolation so powerful it is physically palpable, I came across Psalm 100.

No, the Almighty was not having a go at me in some sadistic sort of fun. He was reminding me of something:

Know that the LORD, he is God! It is he who made us, and we are his; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.
(Psalms 100:3)

He is God. He made me, and flaws and all, I am His. 

Because I am His sheep, He will never leave me wandering, lost and lonely, without finding me and bringing me back into the fold. He will not leave me desolate. He is the Good Shepherd, and He has already given His life for me. That glimpse of hell is just that: a glimpse, perhaps peeped from a distance on a grueling section of the narrow path.

And because of all that, even in the blackest depths I can give Him thanks. Even in the midst of pain, I can praise Him

Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise! Give thanks to him; bless his name! For the LORD is good; his steadfast love endures forever, and his faithfulness to all generations.
(Psalms 100:4-5)