Nine months.
Nine months I've been on aimovig. In that time, I have had very few migraines, and without exception they all responded immediately to the abortive. (I've had one cluster headache, which is freaking terrible; cluster headaches are like migraines on the "Nightmare" difficulty setting, where the pain has a high enough chance of causing suicidal thoughts that they're actually also known as "suicide headaches". But I generally only get 1-2 clusters a year, and the aimovig was never going to help with those, so that's no surprise.)
Today, I woke up with a migraine. Oh well, this has happened once or twice before. "Shoot," says I, "I guess I better take my migraine abortive before I attend my teleconference with the UK office! It only takes an hour at most to kick in, so I'll be more than ready to go into the office today once the two hours of teleconferencing meetings are done."
That was three and a half hours ago.
It has not kicked in. The migraine is, in fact, actively getting worse. I will be working from a dark, quiet room at home today, and may take a half day.
I shouldn't despair. This is just one headache; it's not even the worst migraine I've had by a long shot. But it's the first one in nine months that hasn't responded to the abortive. And now that aimovig has been out long enough, they're seeing that some percentage of folks stop seeing as much effect—sometimes any effect—from it around 8-10 months into treatment. I've been waiting nervously to see if I skated through that window, because the neurologist says that so far she hasn't heard of anyone who makes it through that spot having the aimovig lose effectiveness.
And so all I can think is "Please let this be a fluke. Please don't let this be the first step of a return to the old state." Because that possibility makes me want to cry.
Nine months of understanding what it is to not have a constant low-grade migraine. To not have 2-3 spikes of severe migraine a week. Of actually being able to go out on a sunny day and not worry about whether the sun would turn into a death laser aimed through my eyes at my brain. To not worry about "should I go see that movie with friends, because theater sound systems are awfully loud?"
Please, whatever entity controls medical reactions, let this one be a fluke...