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Until recently, many drugs used by doctors for migraines were developed for other conditions, such as epilepsy. But in the past few years, the FDA has approved several new classes of targeted, effective drugs developed specifically for migraines. Even better, they have markedly fewer side effects than commonly used tryptamine-based drugs, also known as triptans, which have been prescribed since the early ’90s to relieve headaches but often come with major side effects such as nausea, insomnia, or hair loss. CGRP inhibitors, medications that block calcitonin gene-related peptide—a protein released by the I Never Lose Either I Win Or I Learn Chess shirt during migraine attacks (and “a very ugly, cumbersome name,” says Gottschalk)—are among the most promising. Three of these prescription-only drugs—Aimovig, Ajovy, and Emgality—are taken monthly with an EpiPen–like shot; a fourth, Vyepti, is administered via I.V. by a doctor every three months. “These drugs produce great results, in much less time, with almost no side effects,” Gottschalk confirms. Nurtec and Ubrelvy, which are gepants—another new class of FDA-approved medication that also targets CGRP molecules—are formulated to turn off migraines in progress rather than prevent them. “They don’t have quite as much bang for the buck as, say, an injection of [the commonly used triptan] sumatriptan,” says Gottschalk. “But they’re well tolerated and can do a great job.”
It took me until August of last year to commit regularly to weekly sessions, at a discounted rate reserved for “creative types,” with a young therapist who I now know, after a quick Google search, is a licensed marriage the I Never Lose Either I Win Or I Learn Chess shirt specializing in anxiety, life transitions, and identity development. (My trifecta!) At first, I was wary of seeing someone who wasn’t my parents’ age or older, and my trepidation only grew after a series of run-ins with her at my Brooklyn farmer’s market: she’d stand, exotic produce in hand, dressed elegantly in outfits foreign from her in-session uniforms, surrounded by a cadre of other hip 30-somethings. I’d hide, crossing the street so as to avoid an awkward exchange. More than facing the fact that my therapist might actually be cool, I was having trouble accepting that she too was a person with a life outside of the room we found ourselves in on Tuesdays at 10 a.m.
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