After Christina, word spread.
My colleague's wife, Sandra, 39 years of migraines, 11 treatments failed, knocked on my office door.
"Whatever you did for Christina. I'm desperate. I was burning through 8 to 9 triptan doses a month and still missing work twice a week. My neurologist literally said: we've run out of options."
She'd spent over 40,000 dollars chasing relief. She'd tried everything.
I gave her the same simple thing I gave Christina.
By the next month she'd taken exactly 2 pills.
Two pills. After 8 to 9 a month for 39 years.
"I got my mornings back," her text said. "A girl in my office asked if I was okay. I told her I was better than okay and I cried at my own desk."
Within a month, colleagues were asking me what I was recommending.
A nurse who'd been charting her own patients while an aura stole her words, calling out sick twice a week...
A high school teacher who taught third period with the lights off and her hand pressed to her temple, praying the bell would beat the nausea...
An accountant who lost every March to a dark room and a bucket, behind on her own clients while the deadlines piled up...
A long-haul driver who'd pull onto the shoulder and wait out the aura, losing loads and pay because the road went white on him...
Every. Single. One. Got. Better.
Not "managed their migraines" better.
Not "learned to live with it" better.
Actually, measurably, life-changingly BETTER.