Friday, 19 February 2016

In search of miracle cures

After suffering a particularly bad migraine attack, Jane Green goes in search of a miracle cure – with dubious results

Written by Jane Green
The Eldest Daughter came home from University asking if I had read the email she sent about a miraculous piercing that prevents migraines.

It’s called a Daith piercing, and goes through the cartilage of the ear, at an acupressure point. A quick visit to Dr Google found many, many people who reported it had stopped their migraines completely. I have had migraines for over 30 years.

I have tried cutting out all the things you are supposed to cut out, having early nights, avoiding alcohol, but nothing helps. When the eldest daughter mentioned the piercing, I had just had an attack that was particularly bad, ending up in the Emergency Room for drips of saline and painkillers.

And so, on Saturday, we went off to the mall for a girls’ day of shopping, and on the way back we decided I would go and get the piercing (Impulsive? Moi?). We visited two of the local tattoo shops, and neither would do the piercing, but we hit third time lucky.

The problem with being impulsive, I realised, sitting on the bed and waiting for the very nice woman to stab me with a huge needle, is that I never think about anything until it’s too late.

‘It’s unusual, you getting this for your first piercing,’ she said cheerfully, just before she stabbed. ‘Most people get this piercing last because it’s so painful…’ Cue: stab, and a burst of pain so shocking, I turned a fetching shade of scarlet and broke out in a cold, shaky, sweat.

I now have a small steel ring in my ear. I also still have migraines. I think they may be ever so slightly better, but I also think I may be telling myself that in order to justify one of the maddest decisions I have ever made. I would also quite like to remove it, except I don’t know how to undo the ring, and the thought of touching it and pulling it out makes me feel slightly sick.

My friends are saying this is the beginning of my midlife crisis. They are waiting for me to join a gym, start exercising like a maniac, buy an Aston Martin and take up with a man 15 years younger.

All of which sounds mildly appealing, if I could ever be bothered to join a gym. In the meantime I shall be bonding with my new piercing, popping the same amount of migraine pills I popped before, and going to bed, as always, at nine.

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