Chi Machine stops Migraine

NAME THE pleasure - a few glasses of wine, a lie-in, the first day of a holiday - and the punishment came swiftly in the form of a faint, dull ache somewhere in my head. Then the pain would gather itself and creep towards the back of my left eye, dispensing its agony over the next three days.

Migraines. They blighted my life for 13 years, as often as every three weeks, and have cost many thousands of pounds in the search for a cure. But now I may, just may, have found a way of managing them. It is a machine that massages your body by making it move like a fish. Bizarre, I know, but this Zen Chi massager can be found in a number of Pilates studios. It doesn’t look too impressive - just a small box with a timer. But lie on the floor, place your lower calves in the cradle, and the side-to-side wave motion of the Zen Chi machine rocks your body so as to "open the vertebrae" in the words of one retailer, "alleviating stress and tension placed on the spinal column" and "promoting the flow of blood to capillary banks in all extremities of the body". I now hope that my unprecedented three months of being migraine-free will continue. To appreciate the magnitude of what this means, you have to realise the huge impact migraines have on the lives of those who suffer them. The World Health Organisation ranks migraine as one of the top 20 causes of years of healthy life lost to disability.

Of course there is a huge array of over-the-counter medicines and when I inexplicably began suffering from migraines in my early thirties, they were the first things I tried. None of them came close to giving me relief. A visit to the doctor came next, for something harder. Imigran was the strongest drug available. I vividly remember the reaction of the chemist who handed over my prescription. "Do you know how much each of these pills cost?" he said. "£13!"

I went home, swallowed one and within half-an-hour was flat on my back with the uncomfortable feeling of something squeezing my neck. A common side-effect apparently, along with nausea and fatigue.

And so began my long search for a cure through alternative medicine. There was the nutritionist who gave me a list of food triggers. I religiously gave up everything, and still the migraines came. Next I tried the homeopath who gladly took my £50 in exchange for pills. Got more migraines and moved on. The Chinese herbal medicine man offered up some vile bitter tea. My migraines were having none of it. In despair, I went back to my GP who recommended I see a private neurologist. The consultant wasn’t much more helpful. In fact, although there are 10 million migraine sufferers in the UK, many doctors don’t take the condition seriously, dismissing them as complainers who can’t handle stress.

I was paranoid I’d get a migraine on my wedding day in 1997. In the event it came during our honeymoon in the Indian jungles of northern Kerala where I parted with 100 rupees (£1.60) for some Ayurvedic potion in a bid to cure it. It didn’t work.

And then I found something that did work. Four months into my first pregnancy, the migraines disappeared. Relaxin, the hormone that softens ligaments in pregnant women, had kicked in. Out went the boring diet and in came the boxes of Magnum ice creams and bacon sarnies. Of course, it did not last. The migraines returned after I gave birth.

Over the years, I’ve had a CAT scan to rule out a brain tumour, bought Australian flower tinctures, had regular shiatsu massages, persuaded my husband to give me two more children, been pricked with needles in the most unlikely places by an acupuncturist, had a bit of cranial osteopathy, and suffered months of Pilates.

And it was in a Pilates studio that I first tried the Zen Chi machine. I lay on the floor, put my feet in the Zen Chi’s cradle and switched on the machine. It felt weird, yet wonderfully calming, unlocking my tight shoulders, as if I’d just had a total body massage. I bought my own machine for about £150.

Will it really continue to contain my migraines? This little machine helps me to stay physically loose and relaxed on a daily basis. And if wriggling like a fish fails me? Although I know someone who may not agree, there is always the temporary relief to be found in having a fourth baby.