Deciphering the Migraine Cipher

Posted on May 1, 2011 in Body Language Neurology

After great pain, a formal feeling comes. The Nerves sit ceremonious, like tombs.” by Emily Dickinson

Ah, blue cheese. I love soft blue cheese, tangy and creamy, a benediction to every stone-ground wheat cracker that it graces. I eat two or three small wedges a day, exalting in the crunch and softness of my snack pairing. Blue cheese makes me happy. And in this season, it also makes me sick.

I ate a lot of blue cheese this past week.

Aged cheeses trigger migraines, ((Funny thing is I used to blame all the herbs that went with Mexican or Italian food for the sickness I felt after eating these cuisines. It had to be the cilantro or the onions or the garlic or the oregano or the peppers. The idea that it was the cheese never occurred to me.)) a fact I forget for much of the year. Come spring, however, the [[tyramine]] levels concentrate in my system. Exaltation turns to eruption of my gastric system. ((There’s some recent research implicating the cluster of nerves that surround the digestive system and the bacteria living within in many brain disorders. I know that my gut figures prominently in my migraines, so is there a connection?)) My neck stiffens, my ears burn, and sometimes my head throbs behind the left eye. I sing misère, take my [[Compazine]], and cover my eyes. I crack my neck and lean forward because this sooths my stomach and my head. If I can, I lie on my bed and cover my eyes. All this, I am sure, is familiar to my fellow sufferers.

Strangely, I still laugh and I still get hungry, though the nausea makes me cautious. I dare not try one popular cure for migraines — [[cayenne peppers]] or their derivative [[capsaicin]] ((Sometimes incorrectly identified as “[[capsicum]]” which is the genus of plants to which peppers belong)) — because I do not trust the linings of my digestive tract to keep them down. When all this knowledge is reminded to me, I control my diet. But then come days when I am doing everything right but I still get sick.

The difference is the wind. [[Santa Ana winds]] — better called “satanas” by some of us — drop from the mountains and push against the windows. I’m not sure if it is the dust or the pollen or just the energy these [[foehns]] concentrate on my doorstep or rob from my rooms. I know that I cannot look at the bright light of the clear days that they bring, that the nausea returns, and I add sneezing to the usual complex. Their howl is joined by my whimpering. If I ate of the fell list during these times, I would most certainly die.

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UPDATE: A friend who read this article sent me this link about the dangerous X-14 Cheese. (Hoax)