For right now, this needs to stop.

As far as my relapse conundrum, I could not continue treatment, after all. I just.. stopped. I am still so emotionally drained, and my body is at wits’ end. I’ve been off antibiotics for a month, now, and I’m flaring at the moment because of the usual beginning-of-the-month bug-flare that happens… Only this time I am not protected, so it’s scary to think of what they’re doing in there! How can one feel this close to having the flu and not actually have influenza?

On Samhain I ultimately decided to take another two weeks off and just restore my body as much as I can, with only the necessary things and as few medications as possible. I don’t think I have any yeast problems, but I’m going to take a few doses of candidiasis treatment, just in case. And then I’ll talk to my LLMD and see where we can go from here.

I can’t thank you all enough for the responses to my last post. At any given moment, I am ready to reach out for help, or curl into a ball and never speak again. It’s a constant back and forth. I want to say, “the disease is what makes me want to retreat,” but it’s not even that. It’s my response to it. It’s knowing that I do have some control here, I do have a choice, and I’m terrified of making the wrong decision. Continue this grueling treatment regimen and make myself worse, an inevitable decline, or forego treatment completely and still begin an inevitable decline. But I’ll tell you what.

My intuition says to stop.

And I always, always listen to it. It says I need this break. It says I could use it to heal my body as much as I can, and in two weeks I may know clearly again what next step to take. I can’t believe in God as much as I do, and ask Him to guide me, and then not follow what I feel is the right course of action, even though I can’t explain it.

That became even more apparent today when I really wanted to take my antibiotics again, because the thought that these infections are inside me running amuck and I have nothing to stop them, is very frightening. It was then that I noticed how strong my conviction was to not resume my treatment…

Anyone think I’m crazy, yet?

I can’t help but notice that the idea of treatment helping me, which has always been my motivator in the past, has not even crossed my mind. It’s as if somewhere inside I know that to continue with it at this point in time would do me harm. Logically speaking, I think that not treating is also pretty bad, but somehow, not as bad as taking these medications; at least not right now.

So that’s where I’m at.

 

I also had a visit with my new neurologist, and it wasn’t as productive as I thought it’d be. Part of that is my body’s fault because I only got to ask him half of what I wanted–I was so bad-off that morning I almost passed out in their waiting room.

In response to my relapse he said, “There will be good weeks and bad weeks, good months and bad months.” And apparently when you tell someone you have myalgic encephalomyelitis they don’t think twice about you having severe daily headaches and eye pain (i.e., I guess you do have headaches). But he’s a good doctor who at least didn’t outright call me a hypochondriac. I’ve noticed with having this lesion on my brain, people tend not to think you’re “just exaggerating” quite as much. He said it was post-infectious demyelination, but it wasn’t changing in size so he didn’t feel I needed a repeat MRI for right now. My various damaged nerves are healing up, so that’s a good thing! So much so, that he didn’t  think I ever had facial palsy… Luckily that’s in my notes from my last neurologist. :\

He also thinks all my movement disorder problems are Tourette’s… Which is wildly inaccurate, but because he thinks Tourette’s Syndrome is just a “group” of movement disorders rather than its own thing which should be diagnosed after the other movement disorders have been ruled out, it would make sense for him to say that. I can always see that movement disorder specialist should things progress even further, so. (I know it’s not Tourette’s because my TS does act up when I get new infections, however, it acts up completely differently than the problems I’m currently having.)

He said do NOT take any triptans for my migraines (the main reason I went to see him, actually), and gave me Cambia powder to try for my next attack. Which my insurance won’t cover, of course, so I’ll rely on samples like the other three medications I can’t afford. He diagnosed me with complicated migraine and said I really should be on a preventative medication with this type of diagnosis, but I mentioned that not ALL my migraines do the whole “Hey I Look Like I’m Having A Stroke” thing. I’ve had them fifteen years, so it makes sense they’d eventually progress, but I only get “those” maybe once a month or every two months…

Which is probably not very good, but good lord I just can’t handle another medication right now, especially when my options for preventative medications are very limited! I think he actually ran out of ideas for me since Topamax is practically my only choice and it lowers my intracranial pressure. :\ But at least Migraine is a well-studied disease and, should I live long enough, they will probably come out with something new, soon.

 

The best news I have is: (1) I got to visit a friend (actually, I returned to the scene of the crime of where I caught Lyme disease), and I recovered pretty easily from it with all the careful planning and tailored resting schedules. And (2) I invested in a tilting overbed table. I don’t think I have words to describe how useful it is. How have I never thought of this before? Person who is in bed most of the time, desks that go over the bed… Regardless, this thing is amazing. What I really love is the little mini-desk on the side that always stays flat so you can put stuff on it!

 

a rainbow at night

Unpopular opinion time: Which is better?

I don’t know why this is an unpopular opinion, but it is:

I feel blessed to live in a country where I can obtain so many accomodations to offset the effects of my disease.

If I were in many other places, or a third world country, I would have died within a few months of getting sick; there would have been no chance for me. Obviously that wasn’t the journey I was meant to take, would not have given me the lessons I was meant to learn, so here I am.

Things are not perfect, but it is a wonderful thing that we do have support systems in place for people in my situation, regardless of how many politicians call us malingerers or how many bitter people try to loop everyone on social security/welfare into one big “something for nothing” group.

All these things–social security, medications, things like laptops that help us connect to others in a housebound state, and things like wheelchairs and adjustable beds and home IV therapy–give us a chance at life that many before us never had.

This thinking I’m doing comes from a frame of mind that doesn’t expect other people to owe us anything. It comes from pondering Buddhist philosophies which simply seek to be realistic, accept What Is, and not live life in a constant state of wanting. It comes from thinking that we are worthy of love and joy and peace simply because we exist, but that suffering also exists– as a fact and not a punishment.

Yes I am upset at the discrimination of the now-infamous “47%”; yes I think it’s our responsibility as human beings to try and care for one another and get help to those who need it; yes I think it’s our responsibility to speak out against injustice, when we have so many means to help people, and those in places of power are not cooperating.

I’m not suggesting we simply turn up our noses, say “it is what it is” and not try to change it. But while you’re waiting for things to change, you have to accept the way things currently are; you have to realize what you have, and realize how blessed/fortunate you are to even have that. If you have something that the majority of the world does not, you are blessed.

You have to realize how amazing it is that you have methods to help manage your illness; medicine to help ease your pain; things like soft beds to lie in; the right food to eat when so many of us have allergies and intolerances, a place to live that has temperature control when most of us have dysautonomia. Many in developed countries, I think, forget that the majority of the world does not have these things to the exceeding surplus that we do.

I can’t forget that if I were somewhere else without these accomodations, I would perish.

Of course it is disappointing when there exists external items to help you even further, that are created for the purpose of helping–like money, certain foods, certain medical treatments–and for whatever reason, you don’t have access to them.

All the time, I see people with myalgic encephalomyelitis with no hope of getting better because research for our disease is not being funded (though the FDA did recently vow to find medications to treat both CFS and M.E.–not “ME/CFS,” but both seperate, distinct conditions). I see people with Lyme disease and its related infections trying to raise funds for their own treatment and cure which DOES exist, but because our government does not currently believe in our illness, getting access to it is sometimes impossible. I see people who are disabled and, due to the system we’ve created, should be able to receive benefits to live on, but are not getting them. Things are not perfect.

But what about what you do have? What about the things that help you face the day, without which you’d have been gone long ago?

Sometimes when I am in those situations–lacking things that I “should” have, but do not–I try to find gratitude for those that do have them. I try to be happy for those whose test results and various means of funding enabled them to get PICC lines and ports and hyperbaric oxygen therapy; somewhere there is a person who cannot get any antibiotics, who wishes they had the medication I do. Somewhere out there is a person who wishes they had a doctor who believed them; adequate pain management; funding to get accomodations for daily living; friends who were there for them; family who supported them.

I’m still going to be extremely disgruntled when my head feels like it’d be better off removed.

I’m still going to feel like crying when I hear another child with M.E. has been forced into asylym because their doctors do not understand what they’re doing.

I’m still going to be bothered by the fact that I will never be able to get IV antibiotics with my test results, just because my immune system is too poor to make the tests show my positive antibiodies.

Again, I am not saying we are to be emotionless zombies without a reaction to anything. I don’t want to type this and make it seem like I live in another world where nothing bothers me. I am trying my best to improve my state of being through whatever means available, just like the next person, even if often my body cannot cooperate yet.

I just find it better to guide our thoughts into being thankful, instead of dedicating so much of our time and energy to things we do not possess; self-compassion is better than self-pity. I find it better to realize that having anything to help us through disease is a miracle, because we are not, in fact, entitled, but blessed that we got sick in a place where anything at all could be done for us.

I just find it better to live in gratitude.

 

a rainbow at night

(Postscript: I was honestly scared to post this. I feel like, if absorbed in the wrong way, it will seem like I’m saying, “You’re lucky to get what you get, so shut up,” and that is not my intention. I know I’m not entirely responsible for how people perceive my writing, but I do hope I’ve framed it enough in the way of, “You are lucky to get what you get, and I think it’s best to focus on that while you try to get whatever else you need.”)

I have a hive? You’ve got to be kidding me.

How can the mycoplasma pneumonia still be alive?!

…Or at least, that was my first thought when this all-too-familiar hive popped up on my leg, in the same spot it always does when, what I’ve always suspected to be the mycoplasma, flares up.

It usually went something like:

Get hive on leg → Concurrent lung problems and coughing/sometimes pleurisy → ER visit or an otherwise-very-close-call

The hive part usually happens–from observing my own patterns and bloodwork–because of eosinophilia, associated with the mycoplasma infection. Bartonella (and whatever else I got from the fleas) causes it as well (so when I got them BOTH back in 2008, my eosinophils were really high)…but the bart should be gone, right? I didn’t get hives when I got re-infected with bartonella (and again, whatever else I got from those fleas) back in August 2011, so I’m thinking that leads further evidence toward hives being associated with mycoplasma.

You’d think it’d be dead by now after being on Rifampin a year, and Zithro for several simultaneous months with it, but since Mycoplasma is slow-replicating like Lyme disease (roughly replicating every three weeks, from what I’ve been able to find, and experience), I guess it makes sense that it’d take more along the lines of years to fully eradicate, just like Lyme disease. (Antibiotics, specifically the bacteriostatic ones, mainly kill when the bug replicates.)

Additionally, checking my tags, the last time I had a hive was right before I had to stop the Zithro because it stopped working for the bartonella. Right before that happened, I was beginning to get another severe flare-of-”unknown”-origin, with the proverbial-possibly-mycoplasma-hive warning sign before it started…

Then after switching from the Zithro to Bactrim (still with the Rifampin, to finish off the bartonella) I haven’t had a hive since.

Until now, that is. After starting the minocycline. Which also kills mycoplasma. More specifically, which also kills mycoplasma in the same way that Zithro kills mycoplasma. Hmmmmmmm.

So apparently this is a herx? And if I do get the impending very-bad-flare-up, I doubt it’ll result in an ER visit, since I’m not near as sick as I was before.

But still, this is disturbing, and.. I just wish the mycoplasma were dead!!

Time will tell what Mr. Hive has to say about my infectious status. Til then, I’m glad to be on minocycline…

Oh, also, I’m buying a shower chair. Yeah.

a rainbow at night