Unbearable Suffering: A Personal Struggle Against the Enigmatic Pain of Cluster Headache Syndrome

It began on a gloomy Monday in the morning in the autumn of 2016. I worked as a educator, attempting to manage a new class, when a sudden pain bloomed behind my one eye. It was followed by rapid jolts, like lightning bolts. As each class came and went, the discomfort eased and then came back with increased force. Multiple times that day I handed over a teaching assistant with worksheets and hurried to the staff bathroom to soak my face with cool water. I took paracetamol, but the pain remained unrelenting.

The headaches returned frequently that fall, and again in spring, soon establishing an yearly cycle. September and October were the most severe, then February and March. I could anticipate the pattern: a warning sensation in the shower, early pangs on the train, full-blown pain in the classroom by mid-morning. In late 2019, a doctor eventually referred me to a specialist and I was diagnosed with cluster headaches.

This condition typically start with severe pain behind a single eye that lasts for several hours.

About 1 in 1000 people suffer by the disorder, and men are more often affected. Cluster headaches usually begin with sudden, excruciating pain around one eye that reaches its peak within a short time and lasts for as long as three hours. Attacks occur in cycles, every day or several times a day, and are associated with red or watery eyes, sagging eyelids or facial perspiration. There exists the episodic form, which arrives in periodic cycles; some patients have continuous attacks, characterized by the absence of extended symptom-free periods.

What connects sufferers is the intensity. One study rated the sensation at 9.7 10, more severe than broken bones or other conditions. A separate discovered a significant percentage of cluster headache patients reported thoughts of self-harm amid attacks; the number fell to 4% when they were pain-free.

One patient, in her seventies, a chronic patient from Wales, isn't surprised. Her episodes started when she was two. “I would hurl myself on the floor and bang my head. That was attributed to being a difficult child,” she says. Her symptoms deteriorated through her youth. Drinking in her adolescence, like several causes, made things worse. After drinking sherry at her school leaving party, she recalls hardly being able to see on the transport home.

Her relatives often mistook her episodes as intoxicated behavior. Support finally came from her father and then from her husband, her spouse. “I was very fortunate to find such an exceptional person,” she says. Hobbs took clerical work after relocating, but often hid her condition. She was fired from one job, partly due to absences during episodes. Her definitive diagnosis came in 2002 at a specialist hospital.

Nevertheless, the failure to organize life around erratic attacks took its toll. She especially hated being unable to plan outings, being seen as unreliable as a co-worker, and even having to be looked after by her children during the paralysis caused by the most severe episodes. “It steals from you of the simple liberties we don't appreciate until they're gone,” she says. She remembers winning tickets for a significant concert, only to have an attack inside a portable toilet.


Headaches have been documented across the ages. “The earliest description of headache originates from the Mesopotamians in 4000BC,” write authors in a book on the subject. They linked the ailment to an malevolent entity who attacked his sufferers' heads.

Ancient medical texts suggest unusual remedies for what some experts would describe as a headache disorder. In the middle ages, severe headache was recognised as a separate condition, with therapies including herbal concoctions to other, more folk cures.

It was a European physician who provided the initial detailed account of a cluster-type attack. In his writings, he speaks of a patient “afflicted with a very intense headache occurring and disappearing daily at fixed hours”.

The disorder were only officially classified by global headache committees in 1988. From the mid-20th century to the 1990s, they were believed to be caused by a problem with a key blood vessel that delivers blood to the brain. Leading specialists in treating the disorder note this.

In the late 1990s, researchers published the results of a study for which they had triggered attacks in patients and monitored the attacks in a imaging machine. The data, published in a prominent medical publication, showed activation of the hypothalamus, which is in charge for human circadian rhythm, when patients were in discomfort, and a reduction when they felt better.

In spite of such progress, diagnosis remains delayed. Jamie Charteris's attacks began in the 1980s and felt like “a modelling balloon being inflated behind my one eye”. GPs thought he had a sinus issue; he had four surgeries before eventually being diagnosed in 2014, after a doctor researched his symptoms.

Specialists say delays in diagnosing and treatment occur because patients are rarely seen during an episode. “You're exhausted and depressed, but not in agony,” a doctor says. He works by eliminating other common head pain disorders, such as tension-type headache, before diagnosing the disorder. A detailed patient history is essential: on which side do symptoms appear? For how long? What season? Are there triggers, such as alcohol? Specific characteristics such as tearing, sagging eyelids and stuffy nose help verify the diagnosis. Once diagnosed, patients may be referred to specialist clinics. But many first go to A&E or are given inadequate therapies.

Dorothy Chapman, in her late seventies, has suffered from cluster headaches for most of her life, although she hasn't had an attack since recent years. When she was in her 20s, she had her teeth extracted because dental professionals misunderstood her symptoms. She believes dentists still need greater awareness. When another patient sought help from a charity, it was Chapman who responded. The author recalls calling a helpline during an bout in 2021; a calm advisor talked me through oxygen therapy and medication until the attack eased.

National guidelines on treatment recommend that sufferers are offered high-dose oxygen therapy and/or a anti-migraine medication delivered by nasal spray. No oral painkillers or opioids should be used. Prophylactic choices include a blood pressure medication, which apparently helps manage the attacks of some individuals.

But leading specialists argue the guidance need updating to reflect a more defined treatment pathway and help GPs avoid incorrect prescriptions. For episodic patients, timing is critical: “The duration of the bout determines the approach.” Brief cycles with infrequent episodes are handled with acute therapy alone. Longer or more intense periods require preventative medications such as verapamil, sometimes paired with corticosteroids. A significant number of patients also receive a greater occipital nerve block during a bout – an procedure into the side of the head where the discomfort is that reduces nerve signals.

The official guidance need revising to reflect a
Amy Hayes
Amy Hayes

A tech journalist and geopolitical analyst with over a decade of experience covering digital transformations and international relations.