Josh Turknett - The migraine miracle: a sugar-free, gluten-free, ancestral diet to reduce inflammation and relieve your headaches for good

I hate migraines.

No, really. I dont mean I hate getting migraines. It goes way deeper than that. I hate everything about them. Ive spent most of my life hating them, in fact.

Growing up, I hated them because my mom had them. Hers were ferocious and frequent. And I couldnt understand it. One day shed be fine. The next, shed be fixing dinner or washing clothes, face pale and eyes squinting, trying her best to conceal from me and my brother the agony inside. She was never one to complain, never one to put her needs above those of our family. But I always knew, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. I could read her face as well as she could read mine. And I hated whatever could do this to herthese migraines, as she called them. I desperately wanted to help, but I knew deep down there was nothing I could do. She was the smartest person I knew, as knowledgeable about migraines as any doctor. If she couldnt tame this beast, then I certainly had no chance. Still, I would often dream of finding the answer, of one day making the discovery that could destroy it once and for all.

When I began getting migraines as a kid, I hated them with renewed vigor. I still vividly remember my first onenobody forgets his or her first visit from the beast. I was eleven at the time, on an overnight trip with my school class. It was a trip Id looked forward to all year long but barely had a chance to enjoy. Had I not seen my mom suffer with her migraines so many times I probably wouldve thought I was dying. I remember the bus ride home: the sound of the other kids having the kind of fun only kids on a bus can have, while I sat curled up in the fetal position in my seat, wishing theyd just be quiet, shielding my eyes from the skull-piercing rays of sun coming through the window. I got home, vomited until there was nothing left, and passed out in a heap of exhaustion. My life with the beast had begun. My mothers struggle was now mine, too.

Initially, my visits from the beast were few and far between. But as I got older, they came more often. By my thirties, Id accepted migraines as an inevitable part of life. For as long as I lived, the beast would always be lurking nearby, ready to pounce after the slightest misstep. This was my fate, and I had accepted it.

Migraines still remain a family affair. As luck would have it, my wife also has them. Like my mom, she usually soldiers on in spite of them, sacrificing her own comfort for the sake of others. This means she knows what its like to teach a room full of second graders with her head pounding, each tiny voice a cannonball crashing against her eardrum. She knows what its like to twice spend the entire first trimester of pregnancy with migraines virtually every day, refusing to take so much as a single Tylenol. This kind of struggle takes its toll, though. It was hard enough for me to watch someone I loved go through it the first time around.

And when my daughter, at less than a year old, began having sudden episodes of intense vomiting, I wanted to believe it was just some odd stomach bug. But I knew better. Ive known the beast long enough to recognize its many disguises. So it came as no surprise the first time she came up to me at age five with tears in her eyes and said, Daddy, my head hurts. She was, of course, doomed by her DNA. Still, I didnt expect it to come so soon, though deep down I wasnt really surprised. I knew all too well that the beast shows no mercy.

So perhaps now you understand just what I mean when I say that I hate migraines. And perhaps it makes sense that I chose a career in neurology, the field of medicine that treats disorders of the brain, and thus bestowed myself with the task of treating migraine sufferers, or migraineurs. When I entered the field, there was a part of me that hoped it would provide me the opportunity to find the answer that could help my family, myself, and my patients cure their migraines and rid their lives of the beast. I learned everything I could about them from whatever and whomevertextbooks, journals, my teachers, and my patients. In spite of this, the ultimate cure remained elusive; but through these efforts I was at least satisfied in knowing I was providing my patients with every available tool for treating their migraines. It wasnt a perfect solutionin many cases far from it. But it was the best modern medicine had to offer, or so I thought. Ultimately I had come to the same conclusion my mother had years ago: the beast could not be killed; at best it could be