It’s been seven mornings without an attack. Considering how metronomic the attacks have been, and how frequent, I think it’s safe to say my cluster has ended. I’m really happy it’s over, really, really happy.
It’s been the worst, the most persistent and the heaviest cluster I’ve had to deal with, and it’s left me completely emotionally drained. Writing this, I feel the pressure of tears selling up behind my eyes. I don’t know whether it’s relief or the memory of the attacks, but it feels like the stress of the last month is waiting to burst from my head through my tear ducts.
The pain has been overwhelming, the frequency has been even worse. The almost clockwork timing meant I was almost certain to wake up to the feeling of someone stabbing me just below the eye, which lead to horrible nights where I got little sleep and no rest. Enduring the pain almost seemed easier than enduring the wait. Almost.
A strange side effect of the relief is a the question; what now? When you dedicate your life to a large extent to dealing with the attacks, you let your social life, professional life and all your hobbies slow down to a crawl. Now comes the inevitable climb to put my life back in order. Of course, that sounds more dramatic than it is, but it feels like a Herculean task nonetheless.
I am very grateful for the help and support people have offered me. While its been a solitary few weeks, and while the attacks are a solitary burden, it’s good to know people care. Especially my brother and sister have been a great help.