A Dose of Reality

First off, a huge thank you to those who have expressed their support and gratitude of my recent writing… I was not expecting it. I have read your words and I want to reply as soon as I can. Right now I feel an update of sorts is in order. Forgive me while I use my spoons for expression, but know that I am actively awaiting the right words to respond to the support you have offered in my direction. :) You help me feel less alone, and on weekends like this one, I really need that…

At the beginning of May I wanted a mini-celebration of the fact that I’ve been off treatment six months and I am still walking okay. So what better a way to affirm my functioning feet than with new shoes!

K9 by Rocket Dog® Odetta Floral-Print Ankle-Strap Pumps, $30

K9 by Rocket Dog® Odetta Floral-Print Ankle-Strap Pumps, $30

This event was right before my monthly bug-flare, which still happens around the beginning of the month. I forgot about it this time, so it wasn’t until day three of being in bed that I realized why all these symptoms were happening.

I effectively went from walking “normally” in new shoes and eating at my favourite foodie joint, to being in bed four days, excessively sleeping through over half of it, and having seizure-like activity again.

Yesterday, I felt as if every inch of me was buzzing, vibrating from the inside-out. I tried to wash my face with sunscreen, use toilet paper as moisturizer, pour my milk into a sauce bowl instead of a cup, and made accidental purchases online. I found myself standing in places I didn’t have any memory of walking. Yes, I remember all of these symptoms.

But still it helps to know why it’s happening. Not only that, but I’ve noticed I’m typically worse on weekends, again…an ominous sign from my bartonella days, but a fact nonetheless.

 

My ego said, I would rather all this NOT occur immediately after I finish celebrating how relatively well I’m functioning after six months with no antibiotics! Why did you have to remind me, right now? Maybe I wanted to forget for a little while, just how much my body is going through, just how sick it is…

Another part of me is saddened at the reminder.

The other part of me, is thankful for it, that I don’t float away into denial, and hopes that I won’t also sink into despair…at least not for too long.

See, I go through the same emotions as everyone else. I don’t ever want to seem like I don’t. I don’t ever want to seem like the decisions I’ve made or the way I live is something unattainable.

 

I’ve been relatively doing so-so. I never imagined stopping treatment would have given me so much of these months back, these months that I would have otherwise spent in misery with no real benefit except more worsening. Instead, I have more good days right now, I’m determined to use them fully, and I can be mostly comfortable.

Symptom-wise, this has developed:

  • I consistently see the squiggles, black dots, and smoke-fog illusions in my vision.
  • My hands go numb more often, and various irritated nerves cause intermittent curling of my fingers.
  • There is more numbness in my feet, and more of the old “fire foot” sensation.
  • I have more heart palpitations and trouble staying hydrated.
  • My left leg buckles more frequently.
  • I get more spasms in my back.
  • I get choked more easily.

I recently returned from two ER visits with a random virus…and just like after my last viral attack in December/January, my vasculitis is temporarily on hiatus. So for now I’ve been able to stop the daily ibuprofen which was keeping it in check, which I like, and yet this has resulted in more trigeminal neuralgia episodes and eye pain.

While the shot I had to attempt treating the occipital neuralgia didn’t go as intended–giving me odd side effects like falling backwards and an inability to recognize myself in the mirror, I suspect because of the brain lesion(s?)–it DID interrupt those signals, so it’s not as constant as it once was. There are still so many other types of pain, which was depressing to realize, but that one is better. Being on only half the pain medication that I was on before, this has unmasked many of the neuropathy symptoms I didn’t know were developing.

My favourite bit of news is that, I found out if I cover myself in sunscreen before being exposed to sunlight, the vasculitis doesn’t flare up. :) And as of my most recent echocardiogram, my heart function hasn’t worsened, so they don’t want to see me for another 18 months!

 

I’ve noticed I try to leave you all with something that’s helped me, recently. This time I offer you something for your friends and loved ones, and possibly as justification for your feelings, as well: The book, How to Be a Friend to a Friend Who’s Sick by Letty Cottin Pogrebin. It was mentioned on Facebook by the lovely Toni Bernhard, whose book How To Be Sick: A Buddhist-Inspired Guide for the Chronically Ill and Their Caregivers changed my life a couple of years back. Both of these are also available on Kindle and Audible, so pick your best function!

a rainbow at night

 

What My Pain is Actually Like

It occurred to me one day several months ago that I’ve never stopped to answer a question people may have, the same question I often wonder about others in my situation: When I talk about being in pain, what am I actually talking about?

In my case I’m talking about severe head pain, and what some call “malaise,” but… Malaise is what you call it when you are sick and you feel “off,” and unwell, and basically.. gross. It’s also a term you can use for having something as simple as a cold or as insufferable as AIDS, much like a fever has drastically varying levels of severity.

In “malaise” standards, what I feel is like my immune system is fighting to save my life but it may or may not actually take me down with it. Pain is usually localized, or at least, if it’s everywhere, it’s an identifiable ache. This? Maybe I should invent a new term.

Deathlymalaise. Yeah that sounds about right.

What happens in my newly coined “deathlymalaise” (feel free to use that), is this:

  1. I always have “the” headache with it, the one I’ll discuss in a moment.
  2. I have a low-grade fever, and I alternate rapidly–or maybe there is only the sensation of rapid cycling–between uncomfortably warm and sweaty, and clammy, cold, with freezing and numb extremities. It’s like when you have the flu and every five minutes you’re either tossing the blankets across the room or clambering to collect anything made of fabric and burrito yourself in it. My GP says this is my immune system. Apparently it’s trying to figure out what to do with itself.
  3. I feel dizzy and there is often a “buzzing” sensation, but whether it’s nerves sending wrong signals or my vascular system trying to sustain normal circulation, is anyone’s guess.
  4. My lymph nodes, particularly the axillary and cervical nodes (under your arms, and around your neck), have a constant, dull ache, and get stabbing sensations.
  5. I get muscle spasms in my neck, back, and all around my abdomen in general, that are so sudden and severe I usually end up screaming.
  6. I feel a burning sensation in the nerves in my face, as if they were on fire from the inside-out. I think it comes from the same inflammation responsible for my headache. The trigeminal neuralgia is thus usually activated and I have to stop myself from clawing at my face–that wouldn’t help much, now would it?
  7. I feel as if I’m going to vomit, but I won’t let that happen–I take Zofran as necessary.
  8. My joints–moreso on my left–swell and get stiff, difficult to bend or move.
  9. There is substantial fatigue during these “bursts” of deathlymalaise, but sitting or–more appropriately–lying in one place is usually not an option because this is the kind of suffering that, on the pain scale, would be at the level that it interferes with your every thought.

I’m a complete and utter wreck. And please remember, this list is only covering the malaise part of the illness, something that has been very prominent since The Big Relapse. It’s not medication withdrawal, because these symptoms are part of the reason I started taking anything to begin with, and it’s not herxing. It’s just disease. It makes me uncomfortable to even type that, but it is what it is. I can’t sugarcoat something like this.

I usually feel aghast–but almost in awe–at the reality that a person could possibly feel so horrendous, and helpless at the thought that a hospital–the place you’re raised thinking can always help you during any health crisis–cannot do anything, because there is nothing to stop what’s happening. How do you explain to someone how terrible all that feels, with the word “malaise”?

Several of my friends who also live with Lyme & Company admit to feeling this, and even writing letters or notes to loved ones during the worst “episodes” because they think surely something must be about to go very, very wrong for the human body to give out all these warning signals.

They usually say, “I feel like I’m dying.”

We really do.

 

The progression of my headaches has been a monster all its own. Their onset began with occipital neuralgia four months after my tick bite, almost seven years ago. Bartonella came with its own, mostly frontal-oriented headaches; I don’t have those any more. But almost without fail, I have had a particularly severe headache for 4-5 consecutive days every four weeks since the Lyme invaded my nervous system. Now, that exacerbation happens about every two weeks, thanks to the Mycoplasma.

I used to need prescription-strength medications for breakthrough pain only a few times a year for the attacks of occipital neuralgia. As things steadily progressed (especially within the past two years), I went from needing them an average of 1-3 days per month, to having 3-week-long bouts of unrelenting head paid which alternated with 3-pain-free weeks, seemingly for no reason. Since my relapse in October, I’ve needed them every day except 1-3 days per month. I guess all of this is why needing them so much frightened me: I wondered–and still wonder–if there is no turning back from this point. Regardless…

This head pain is a throbbing sensation at the back of my head, the base of my skull and down into my neck. I wouldn’t outright call it occipital neuralgia, because my attacks of O.N. are even more severe and almost completely untreatable. But otherwise, it’s just like them. Baby neuralgias? They even exhibit the so-called “ram’s horn pattern,” and the top of my head often goes numb, and I am sensitive to anything touching my scalp. There is no sensitivity to sound, but extreme sensitivity to light. I get bursts of nausea. Since vasculitis has been such a major feature of this relapse, these “headaches” may have some vascular component.

As of right now, later this month my pain management doctor wants to try a shot in my neck. I’m uncertain is he intends a nerve block for O.N. or another route, but since this has gone on so long, it’s time to try something new.

 

There’s not really a pretty way to sum this up. But when I talk about being in pain, to all of this is what I refer.

 

a rainbow at night

It feels like I’m talking about someone else’s life, sometimes…

So, in my last post, I said I’d give myself another two weeks off treatment and then re-evaluate my state of health to see whether or not I should restart treatment for Lyme disease. Something happened to help me make that decision.

I got an ear infection. Just a minor bacterial one which I get about once a year if I’m not already on antibiotics at the time. (Well, at least compared to a VIRAL ear infection, they’re minor.) I’m a miniature pharmacy so I already had the Z-pack needed to treat it.

I took one pill (and you’re supposed to take two at first, but I didn’t think that’d be smart for me…I was right) and spent that night feeling unimaginably ill while trying not to have a mental breakdown.

Fellow Lymies already know this, but: Zithro is the cousin of the medication I’ve been on (Biaxin) to treat Lyme disease, and also a potent treatment option in itself, so taking it affected a lot more than just trying to help my ear. There was fever, chills, constant shaking, dizziness, numbness, nausea, and a host of other things, like not being able to remember my best friend’s name (?!?!). But the real “kicker” was that I felt that way from just one pill

After being off meds for a month and a half, I can’t even handle one pill. :|

I can only handle half-a-pill, which is less than a child’s dose, and I can only hope it will be enough to cure my ear infection… But it’s definitely not enough to treat my disease. If anything, these tiny half-doses may keep things from progressing too quickly, but will also make me a target for drug-resistant bacteria, and then talk about being in a mess…!

This does take away the choice (mostly) of whether to begin treatment again or not, because it’s obvious I physically cannot do it, and mentally, I am still so, so tired.

Toward the middle of November, I thought I was doing better. I left the house three times in a week, and (not the same days, but) I had three consecutive days with no pain. So I thought I was getting over the relapse, until this happened. I was just a little crushed… But it is what it is, right?

I’m not sure what’s going to happen from here. My friends say I can always begin treatment later after I’ve rested a bit more, but this is the equivalent of waiting until a cancer is stage 3 or 4 to begin treating. The disease is advanced, it’s harder to kill, and the treatment will be that much worse. (And the Lyme disease is stage 3, meaning it’s.. everywhere. And it does not wait for you to be able to handle antibiotics.) But regardless, this may be my only option, and all I can do is hope that with more rest, I will be able to begin treatment again in the future, and be able to handle it.

If not, well… C’est la vie, que sera sera, and all that jazz.

 

I stopped doing the ability scale checkpoints because they are a reminder of how I haven’t made much progress since finishing bartonella treatment. Now, I don’t want to make that sound mediocre… If that disease was still present, I wouldn’t even have the luxury of wondering whether or not handling treatment was an option; I’d just be dying very quickly again!

But the truth is still that I kept waiting for a stable period to make an assessment, and that has yet to happen. I repeatedly had to pause treatment, take such-and-such different medication, take this-and-that medication to balance out the first one, then relapse, recovery, relapse again, and whatever progress I did make, I just kept going downhill again.

I made my last checkpoint at the beginning of this year and I can honestly say I am still at that place, in general, with the obvious adjustment that my symptoms are more severe for the time being due to relapse. But at least I am not any worse than that. I like being able to breathe and walk on most my days. And I do think I am a bit recovered from this relapse that began at the beginning of October.

I can handle longer periods of light, I can be out of bed more, and I have longer stretches with less pain. The translation of that is: I can usually use technology for several hours a day instead of bursts of twenty-minutes until I couldn’t bear it anymore; I make it out of my room several times a day instead of barely once, and sometimes I can leave the house; and my “usual” needed dose of pain medication is once a day, instead of always twice a day…and I have random days where I don’t need any at all. So,

  1. without intervention of medicines like caffeine (which is the only thing that enables me to do things like take a bath, or have a stable blood pressure), or pain medications (which are the only reason I can be active at all); and
  2. with 100% being completely recovered,

I am currently at 15% physical ability and 20% cognitive ability. As we all know, there are better days and worse days, but in general…

And with 100% completely symptom-free, I am at 10% symptom severity. Though I think the chart should be in reverse for that section, because initially “10% symptom severity” sounds as if I only have symptoms 10% of the time, and it’s the exact opposite:

“Moderate to severe symptoms (6–8) at rest. There is moderate to severe pain (6–8) and/or sensations of illness/dysfunction throughout the body and brain for much of the day. Symptoms are severe (8) following any physical or mental activity with a recovery period as low as hours, or as long as days to months, or longer. It is all the person can do to just get through one day at a time.”

 

Thankfully I do have medications to help me get through this difficult time, and all the support in the world from my friends, fellow spoonies, and doctors, about whatever decision I have to make. (My family unfortunately has no idea of the magnitude of this… Right now, I’m not sure I’d want them to know, until I can give them an idea of what we’re looking at…) And I have an appointment with a pain management specialist next week, and I see my Lyme disease specialist on the twelfth. So this is where I am at!

a rainbow at night

(P.S. – Today is my 2-year WordPress Anniversary!! I never imagined so many people would be helped by the words I share. Thank you, all. Stay strong with me!!)

Relapse Journey: Is Choosing Treatment Still Choosing Life?

Here, let me type this so you all won’t think I live in a happy-land bubble. (No, that’s not really why I’m typing this, but it’ll probably confirm it unintentionally.)

This relapse has sent me on quite a ride, physically and emotionally. I did need to take the full two weeks off of treatment, and I’ve only been back on treatment one week before hitting the point of “why am I doing this,” because I’m still relapsed, feel like hell, and I can’t handle this. I’m generally better than I was during the initial crash, but I haven’t bounced back from that point, yet. And the pain…

I have been on twice my usual pain medications, every day, for almost the entire past three weeks. I think there was maybe one day I was okay without anything (and I really wish I knew how it happened!). This has mostly resulted in me subjecting myself to psychological torment over needing them. I used to be able to take breaks from ibuprofen, for the well-being of my stomach; now I cannot. I used to be able to take Lortab (vicodin, as most people know it) once or twice a week to get through the worst of things; now the pain is so bad I cannot function without taking it daily.

Even typing that–that I can’t function without painkillers right now–makes me feel guilty!

In my head, all I hear are family members who took them, who REALLY DIDN’T need them and therefore think no one else actually does, either; other spoonies who have said incomprehensible things like “this suffering is unbearable but I ‘don’t believe in’ taking pain medication”; and society saying that anyone who takes Vicodin is probably one step away from being House, MD during one of the really bad rehab episodes. So yes, cue the shame over needing something to make it through the day, when I previously could just tough it out.

I’ve done a lot of thinking about this, dissecting it from various angles… It’s like I feel I am somehow responsible for needing it, as if I did something to make this happen instead of realizing my body is severely ill. Well…

My favourite quote is the African proverb,

“When there is no enemy within, the enemies outside cannot hurt you.”

Which translates to, someone’s ill-conceived judgement of you is not going to hurt you unless you actually believe what they say to be true. I even wrote it on my mirror in dry erase marker (“no enemy within”) a few months ago, to remind me of it. This helped me realize that it wasn’t what I thought everyone else was thinking that bothered me–it was what I was thinking about myself. I was the one condemning me, not anyone else.

The people who love me were actually very glad I had adequate pain relief! It was (is) the only way they’ve gotten to see or hear from me at all the past three weeks!

It all boils down to a loss of control, I think.

  • Maybe I’m just not ready to accept that I’m still under the effects of this relapse and haven’t bounced back from it yet.

  • Maybe I’m scared my disease is worsening or my Lyme treatment isn’t working or has done all that it can do.

  • Maybe I’m uneasy because I’ve never been dependent on a controlled substance before.

  • Maybe I’m not ready to accept that I’m a chronic pain patient again.

  • Maybe it reminds me that things WILL eventually get worse.

  • Maybe I’m scared that there is no turning back from this point (even though there probably is).

These are the ways relapsing makes you feel. I’m frustrated over my Lyme treatment, and all these medicines, and I’m just.. so tired of all this. I’m so tired of this fight to prolong my life.

Sometimes I just want to stop taking everything and see how far I make it. But I also feel that’d be almost the same as suicide.

I just think, Well, if I’m going to keep going downhill, at least let me not fight/make it happen even quicker; it’d be better to enjoy what I still have than waste what’s left on a battle I can’t win. My doctor once told me that, even. If the treatment is as bad as the disease itself, to weigh my options. Treatment for chronic Lyme disease is like chemotherapy for cancer; don’t let anyone tell you differently. And even if you get relatively symptom-free, it can always come back. My old bartonella infection could always come back, even.

So for now, I’m returning to once-a-day Biaxin for the Lyme disease and Mycoplasma treatment. It’s either I go back to that, or I stop treatment completely. I’m emotionally worn out from getting better and then relapsing, with each event being worse than the one before it. (Quite a predicament to be in when my subset of myalgic encephalomyelitis is relapse-remitting–that’s pretty much all that my future holds!)

 

This might all seem like a 180 from my last post, but it’s not. Maybe I had to express how grateful I am to be alive, so I wouldn’t think this (what I’m feeling) was because I wasn’t… Because I am grateful, and all of this isn’t because I’m not.

My being thankful to be alive and also tired of fighting are not mutually exclusive.

I am so happy to still be here, to have all these things that help me, and people who love me… And sometimes, I just want that to be enough. Sometimes, I just want to embrace my accommodations, enjoy what I have, what life I have left, and live out the rest of my days in as much peace as possible, without the fighting to stay alive part every day, without the medications that are keeping one disease from progressing but which may be setting me up for worser things in the future.

The choice is ultimately mine, I know.

I don’t often say this, and it might be a bit crude, but I should get an award for not offing myself yet. I have friends with this disease who have tried, and friends who have succeeded, and I don’t blame them at all. No, I don’t blame them at all, in the face of a disease that takes you oh-so-slowly. To hold on when there is little hope of a cure, and you know what you’ll face later on: that is a true survivor, no matter what the disease does to you.

Well, actually, I did get an award; a blog award, and I’ll talk about that… In my next post. Along with some facts about the me, the person behind the blog.

 

For others going through a relapse right now, I offer you this:

What is a relapse?
It is an unexpected deterioration in the condition of a sick person after partial recovery.

Conclusion: A little Allegory
Imagine, if you can, a tranquil English breakfast table. The kettle steams, the electric toaster is in action, but someone forgets to adjust the thermostat. Suddenly the smoke alarm shrills from above and is wrenched from its socket before upsetting the neighbours.

Despite our wonderful self-regulating kitchen gadgetry, all is in chaos! In future, pay careful attention to your body’s thermostat, your daily variation in energy and activity and remain grateful for the commotion set up by your immunological stress alarm if it prevents another set-back. Good luck!

http://www.tymestrust.org/pdfs/nosmoke.pdf

a rainbow at night

Disclaimer: I’m not suicidal.

ARAN makes her first real post in months!

Something I try to do with this blog is make sure it makes sense and follows some semblance of “why yes I DO have a thought process,” but tending to either of those things is going to make this blog entry impossible, and I really need to write. So I’m sorry, people who like sentence structure and who like to translate my entries into their native tongue.

 

My birthday was in August. And it was incredible. Full of love from friends and family and the amazing gift that I was alive to enjoy it. I thanked my Lyme doctor for helping save my life, because without his aid I know I wouldn’t have made it. The whole celebration affair took two days to get through because I didn’t want to exhaust myself–I tried!–but let’s just say, next year I shall ask for more assistance, especially in opening gifts because I did the closest thing possible to arm-murder for someone with M.E. The eustress still affected me profoundly, and the muscle relapse I experienced took me weeks to recover from. By mid-September I did finally get to a place where I was okay enough to start typing, replying to e-mails, et cetera, albeit at a much-reduced level. I think that’s when I made my last entry… Anyway.

Since my last actual update I have been “officially” diagnosed with vasculitis, upped my Biaxin dose, and had to stop everything completely.

 

After a necessary car ride (read as: evacuation) put me in the sunlight for eight hours, my sporadically-present vasculitis-of-the-past-ten-years went into overdrive and has been bothering me daily, often severely, ever since. I have to avoid all sunlight and any temperature change…which I always have to do, but right now it’s even more important. I did get tests to see if anything autoimmune had been triggered, but the tests, ANA and the relatives, were all normal, so that’s good. I got the diagnosis of inflammatory vasculitis on the 6th of September, which ironically was two days after upping my Biaxin to twice daily instead of once daily, but the Biaxin was unrelated, since the problems began days earlier with all that sun exposure. My PCP told me all the weird quirks I’d been having–the INTENSE dizzy spells, the blurred vision, that the main vascular problems were in my hands and feet–were all related. She said it starts in the small blood vessels–ears, eyes, extremities–and spreads from there, and to manage it with ibuprofen, which for now, mostly works.

We want to avoid going on steroids if we can, because of how it suppresses the immune system… But I’ve been off and on Nasonex (an inhaled corticosteroid for sinus problems; I don’t have allergies) and it’s such a catch-22. I always feel better when I’m on it, but it also messes with my immune system so that other problems act up. Sigh.

 

For the most part I have been feeling GREAT with the twice daily Biaxin, but when I’m down, I’m really down. I have no idea what to say about my general health status, otherwise. :\ I always get a bad flare at the beginning of the month because this is one of the bug cycles (I think the Mycoplasma, but maybe the Lyme–I have no idea, I just know it’s not related to my menses because that has no reliable pattern, and hasn’t for years). Well, this month’s flare was absolutely terrible because of being on the doubled antibiotic dosage–“herxapalooza,” as one of my friends calls it.

When I was on Zithro (biaxin’s cousin), there would be one day a month I’d have to stop my antibiotics and let the herx die down, lest I end up it the emergency room. I came very close to going this month, not because of the herx itself, but because of a Migraine that was almost completely resistant to treatment. All I had at my house was off-brand medicine and name-brand Treximet, the latter of which  I cannot take with my type of migraine (which I DID NOT KNOW–need to discuss this with my new neuro!). So that was bad. Bad bad. The aura began with an awful episode of Alice in Wonderland Syndrome on Friday (Sept 28th) and the Migraine began Sunday (Sept 30th). Two days later, that was gone, but I have been sicker than sick ever since the whole thing started.

I have stopped ALL of my antibiotics in an attempt to recover, and I’m planning to resume them Monday if I’m able. If not, I’ll give it another week like I sometimes have to do. It’s been four straight months since having to take any kind of break, so that’s good. I hope it’s just the herxing (my liver is fine, by the way!), because this is a little frightening.

I haven’t needed my wheelchair in months, so I put it in the closet. Then yesterday I went to stand up and almost went to the floor. I’ve had NO trouble walking in months. Now my legs are very weak. It just hits me in “episodes”–one part of the day I’ll be sort-of okay; the rest, I am useless.  This would make sense if I were currently on antibiotics, but I am not. I have been sleeping a ton, and in bed all day regardless, only getting up for the essentials like restroom. And the pain… Oh, the pain. A day or two ago–they all blend together at the moment–I couldn’t so much as roll over in bed without vicodin. The headache phase (as that Migraine went on to irritate every surrounding nerve) has died down for the most part, but now I face exhaustion, flu-like sickness, numbness in my right leg leg and foot, a bizarre action-related tremor in my left hand/arm that has actually been progressing instead of going away… I am hydrated but my blood pressure is poor, I am resting but my heart is weak… My heart has felt weaker the past several weeks, at random. I don’t know what that’s about (side effect of doubled Biaxin?) but my next cardio appointment is in November.

It’s just such a drastic change, and I was doing perfectly fine (relatively speaking) on the doubled dose of antibiotics until this hit… And despite being off of them, it doesn’t appear to be getting better yet, which is concerning when I’ve literally spent the past week in bed and usually this combination lends to me feeling better… Or at least, when it’s M.E.-related, this lends to me feeling better. I suppose, with that in mind, I should stop thinking of it in those terms, because even though the majority of my troubles the past month-and-a-half have been M.E.-related and those ARE improved with rest, these problems I now face probably are not M.E.-related, and therefore there’s no sense in thinking rest will help them. Maybe I’m rushing things, or being impatient, I just wonder what happened that I’m taking so long to recover, and I hope this will all pass over without me being forced into a lower state of fucntioning in the mean time.

 

Three hours after I typed this I was able to come back and fix it up a little, so it’s not too bad… But yes, as to my absence…! I have been doing mostly okay, seemingly doing much better–even starting to prepare my own meals!–until “this” happened.

a rainbow at night

This is an entirely new way of formatting, but…

…it’s the only way for me to get this entry published. I’m basically forcing myself to update. I won’t be making a habit of this, but for now… Purple things about life, black things about health updates (read as: Purple for things that are semi-interesting, black for things that I need to write down lest I forget). Also, some random quotes by me, because, why not.

  • June 5th: I started reading American Gods. (So far I’ve made it to chapter four, I think.)
  • June 6th: I got my bloodwork back, showing that my liver enzymes are perfectly normal, back in their 20s and 30s, thanks to the Liver Chi my LLMD put me on! I’m enthralled. If anyone is having trouble with their liver enzymes, and milk thistle isn’t enough, try this stuff! I’ve been on 2 capsules 2-3 times a day, as per doctors orders.

~*~ Life is like Music. If you combine a few key, simple
elements in the right way, you get beauty.
~*~

  • June 8th: Spent the day listening to music and watching the rain. If you want to know what it sounded like (AND YOU DO), open and play this and this at the same time. Also, decided that one day I will own a professional camera.
  • June 9th: Shaking for most of the day with very visible tremors.

~*~ Acceptance doesn’t mean we sit back, stop fighting, and
give up hope. It means we acknowledge truthfully
where we are and how we feel about it.
~*~

  • June 10th-11th: Muscle fatigue (via M.E.) due to a lot of arm usage in talking/typing to a bunch of amazing people. (It was worth it. ♥) Also very, very sore, with a “I feel like I’ve been run over” type of pain, reminiscent of my fibromyalgia days, but not as severe. I had ordered some very soft clothes that finally arrived, which really helps the burst of peripheral neuropathy I’ve gotten lately. I’m assuming my nerves are trying to heal from whenever these infections had spread to my arms several months back. Fioricet is a HUGE help for neuropathic pain!
  • June 11th: I realized that, over the past.. well, a long time, I can’t remember anymore, but I’ve developed oromandibular dystonia that’s mostly triggered by eating. I hope it is worsening now because of herxing, like my other forms of dystonia did when I began treating bartonella last year, and not because it’s something that’s going to hang around. I have quirks, yes, but it is mainly triggered by me trying to eat and chew, etc. Perhaps there is some kind of sensory trick I can learn to tame it? I have some information about when it may have started thanks to my wonderful tagging system, but I’ll have to sort through that, later.
  • June 12th: My niece made me an acronym poem, something awesome about me for each letter, and left it out for a surprise. Aha. I love being the aunt. ♥ Also, I needed my glasses this day. Most days I am fine and don’t need them indoors, but it was a “blurry-can’t-see-the-tv” day. Does anyone else get that? You just wake up with poor eyesight?
  • June 13th: I felt great, it being a Wednesday and the furthest day from my Thurs-Sun Flagyl pulse. And for the record “great” means being able to breathe when I stand up, and able to walk around. I did some minor cleaning, and even did some laundry!

Yesterday I had my cardiologist appointment. He agrees that the palpitations are probably from the Liver Chi, said to be careful with the ibuprofen since it is also processed by the liver, and to continue getting regular labwork to make sure things stay stable. If anything continues to flare, I should go see him again, but as of now I am good for another five months and I don’t need to repeat any heart function tests until next year. :) He’s sending me to get a urinalysis because I have nocturia that has been worse the past several months. During the day I think I urinate a normal amount, but during the night it gets worse, and we’re not sure why. I also told him about this cough that’s gotten worse the past several weeks, but I forgot what he said! Also, I had the beginnings/continuation of further eye problems, which I want to talk about, more.

My eyes continue to be a bother for me. As I mentioned previously, I’ve been staying in the dark since beginning treatment because it is too painful to be in normal light. Some random days I am okay (like the day it rained, and I was able ot have the window open!) but for the most part, it is me in my dark room with my dim lamp.

As for this recent “episode,” I assume it started on the 12th when I woke up and needed my glasses. Then yesterday, as I was lying on the exam table waiting for the doctor, every time I opened my eyes, the walls were a different colour. Yesteday night, the photophobia started. (I need to make a photophobia tag…) The light from my cellphone, on its lowest setting, was excrutiating. Today it was just as bad.

I have my one window covered completely with layered curtains, and thumbtacks around the edges to keep them completely shut–the only light that enters my room is through the top of them, and I even have a towel over that. Just the few flecks of light that managed to escape through the top of the towel this morning were enough to make me roll back under the blankets in pain. I eventually got up and threw two more towels on it. After several hours in the dark, some ibuprofen, and some coffee, I am much better, hence the typing. According to my tags I’ve had this exact set of symptoms in April of last year (cough included!), and it was when I was (1) on Zithro (read as: Biaxin’s cousin) and (2) having one of my “these are strange symptoms what is going on” phases. So I’m going to assume this is Lyme or Mycoplasma, and just be glad I am on antibiotics to kill both of these beasts. :\ At my next LLMD appointment I want to start A-MYCO from Byron White formulas, too.

…And there we have it!

a rainbow at night

Almost finished with bartonella treatment!!

I used to post much more often than this, I know, but… Things are somewhat monotonous! I don’t have to constantly be on top of symptoms every five to seven days to post updates as regularly. Or at least I don’t think I do… Last month, around the 5th, and then the 10th, I had the same symptoms as this month, around the 5th, and then the 10th… I’m not sure what that’s about.

The past few weeks I’ve still been antsy over my random symptoms. Flu-like, fever (99.5 on the 6th–probable Lyme?), severe headaches, neckaches, dizziness, legs going very weak/requiring wheelchair, POTS, poor mental state. All very possible Lyme symptoms! But this is my last chance to make sure there’s no reliable pattern before we stop the bartonella treatment. These are possibly my last few days on Rifampin, after being on it a year! I also don’t think I’d be able to tolerate a maintenance dose of my Bactrim (i.e., two single-strength tablets per day) plus the Minocycline and Tindamax I think he’s switching me to this week… But! I am comforted by the fact that Minocycline has bacteriostatic action against bartonella (and mycoplasma), so even if there are some remnants, they won’t be able to replicate! :)

At any rate, Lyme is being.. interesting. I have not have a headache for about a week! Which is very ironic, because they’d otherwise become daily events! (Also ironic is I didn’t have a headache the last time I posted!) I just don’t get the bartonella-related headache anymore, the ones that hurt in the front of your head like a sinus headache might. I have about half of the symptoms I had at this time last month. The inflammation is way down so I haven’t needed any ibuprofen. Severe fatigue for several days, weak legs, numbness in my legs, episodes of arthritis, an internal tremor all day yesterday… What has surprised me with its reoccurence is the sensation of a bruise on the back of my left ankle, just like last month! It’s not an actual bruise, I don’t think, because it just spontaneously happened while I was lying down, and then I was limping the rest of the night. It makes no sense, but it’s obviously something Lyme related. It’s like achilles tendonitis that only lasts one night, haha.

I don’t have the results of my thyroid ultrasound yet but the technician said I only had like three little cysts??? That’s very good!

I leave you with a quote from Ralph Marston. :)

“Frustration comes from focusing on what you cannot control.
Achievement, on the other hand, comes from focusing on all the useful and valuable things you can do.

Resentment comes from seeing yourself as a victim.
Effectiveness comes from stepping up and taking responsibility.

If you constantly complain that life is unfair, you’ll blind yourself to the best opportunities.
Yet by simply accepting that what’s done is done, you’ll find a way to make the most of it.

Don’t waste your time arguing and fighting with life.
Instead, invest your time and resources in inspiring and encouraging the best in yourself and in those around you.

There is good, positive, fulfilling value to be lived every day, in any situation.
Choose to be the person who shines a light on that potential value and who brings that value fully to life.

Let go of the frustration, resentment and despair by letting the positive possibilities fill your awareness.
Embrace and enjoy the immense power that comes from taking full, unconditional responsibility for all you are and all you experience.”

a rainbow at night

First post of 2012! (Some pictures, a painting, and a recap.)

Your 2011 year in blogging

A New York City subway train holds 1,200 people. This blog was viewed about 7,300 times in 2011. If it were a NYC subway train, it would take about 6 trips to carry that many people.

In 2011, there were 99 new posts, growing the total archive of this blog to 123 posts. There were 37 pictures uploaded, taking up a total of 6mb. That’s about 3 pictures per month.

The busiest day of the year was December 29th with 83 views. The most popular post that day was How I Forgave the Doctors That Called Me Crazy.

Well thank you, everyone! I’ve recently begun getting a lot of hits on my black bean brownie recipe, too? Who would have thought!

I hope 2012 will be a productive year. In just a few weeks I’d have completed my bartonella treatment, hopefully. More on that once I actually get there, but I haven’t–to my knowledge–had any reliable exacerbations every five days. ;) My LLMD was impressed, and said one more month of treatment, to be sure.

Okay, so I’ve managed to post about life lessons, recipes, and articles lately, without any mention of how I’m actually doing… So symptom charting, right! I had a mini-flare (???) around the 16-23rd of December but it wasn’t too severe–the main symptom was excruitiating fatigue. For the past five days (about) I’ve had lots of what appear to be Lyme symptoms. This is pretty typical since I often have a Lyme flare up at the beginning of the month. The “fire foot”/”hot foot” sensation, in my left leg. The “dragging left leg” thing, yesterday. Numbness in my left leg, and today in my hands. Facial nerve disturbance (pictures I take of myself during this scare me a little!). Severe cognitive dysfunction. Joint pain, nasty headaches (but none today!), worse fatigue, minor palpitations, internal tremor, eyes going every-which-way, seeing things, temperature of 99.5, complete lack of appetite, needing ibuprofen every evening. I stopped having headaches for I think a week…then they were back. The past week I’ve also found several bruises–one on my ankle, one on my shin, one on the back of my arm, and another on the back of my elbow on the other arm. One actually appeared on a day I know I didn’t hit anything, so I’m assuming them to be sporadic. Anemia-related? It took me about a week to recover from Christmas, but it went very well–I took lots of rest breaks!

Randomly, my new favourite thing to put my lemon juice in, is pineapple juice. Three ounces of pineapple juice (natural, not concentrate!), 1 or 2 tablespoons of lemon juice, and three ounces of sparkling water–detoxing never tasted so wonderful!

Also randomly: I’ve developed a new migraine trigger of…cheetos. Yes, cheetos. Apparently fake “cheese flavoring” is not something my brain likes. Nor is the sucralose (splenda) I found in my antacids, of all places!

Since my last ability scale checkpoint in October (which was right after I started Bactrim, but before the Lyme had a chance to hit me again) I have gone back down a bit. In general, I was thinking last week that.. as much as I hate to admit it, I think I’ve overestimated myself on the ability scales, out of genuine forgetfulness of what it’s like to be healthy. I have been ill for a length of time that begets forgetfulness about what normal people, with their non-diseased bodies and mitochondria, are capable of…
I remember enough to know that I could go go go all day then sleep it off and be fine; that I could lift things all day and just be sore from it, not experience muscle paralysis; that I could think about a tedious problem (technology or math) and not get physically ill from the mental exertion; and that I could keep things in my short-term memory for more than a few seconds. But for the most part, I forget that my level of improvement is completely relative, and that my 40% or 50% is completely different than someone else’s. Perhaps those who read my blog and happen to be less ill, or those who are healthy, don’t realize that, either. It might really become a problem if I were to tell someone in charge of determinig my disability status what level I think I’m at, because 50% recovered to me, just means being able to take care of myself and my basic needs!
None the less, since my last checkpoint, I am for now at: 15% physical ability, 15% cognitive ability, and 40% symptom severity. I’ll reiterate that bad days are worse, and good days are.. well, better/higher up on the scale. For instance, today I was up a lot more, and New Year’s Eve was also a better day in which I stood up a lot and didn’t need much assistance. But in general, this is where I am. I need caffeine to take all my baths, and even then they are often an immense task, but I’m just so glad I still have those options!

I’d like to end this with some pictures I took on a day when I was bedbound, as well as one I took when I wasn’t! Afterward, a painting I did a couple of weeks ago, when my days were horrible but, for some reason, I felt better for an hour or two each night (probably from resting all day).

Clicking them will obviously enlarge them in the gallery, then if you want to read more about a particular picture (or comment), click on “permalink” and it will take you to the individual description page. Happy New Year, my fellow spoonies!

a rainbow at night

Symptom updates, new theories, and doctors; oh, doctors.

The headache got even more severe the next day, on my peak mid-week-flare day. It was just barely responding to meds. Not using my eyes helped it ease, and when I awoke Thursday, it was completely gone.

When I got that rash in July, it appeared then started to fade out, and another cluster appeared. But so far, I haven’t had any more “papular eruptions” yet (as the Burrascano guidelines refer to these bartonella-related things). Every time I mention these rashes, people tell me I should get checked for Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever, but I don’t see what the point. It seems obvious and I will always wonder if I’ve some kind of rickketsial infection, whether that be RMSF or Ehrlichiosis or flea-borne spotted fever, or any number of things. I did have antibodies to somethign like that. The treatment for all of them is one of the tetracyclines along with Rifampin. If I still have these rashes despite adequate bartonella treatment, we’ll know it must be one of those. But as it is now I cannot handle Rifampin with Doxy, or Mino, or Tetracycline without risking hospitalization, even if I have come really far. One thing at a time, as they say! So any RMSF testing will have to wait.

But someone did direct me to a photogallery of bartonella rashes, via this doctor’s site, a man who studies them and writes about them. He was actually in the Lyme disease documentary, Under Our Skin. One of the pictures really struck a cord–it was exactly the same as the strange scratchmark-like rash I got on my knee several weeks ago, that I mentioned last post… So seeing that, I think I have enough random information to compile a new theory!

I THINK: The bartonella quintana strain appears to be smashed, evidenced by my non-existant five-day-flare cycle and all of its previously accompanying symptoms, particularly the “temporary insanity” (i.e., violent moodswings). But when that ended, this other seven-day thing began. And my rashes started coming back. And old symptoms popped up. And I almost went to the ER again. I’m not sure when, but I know I wrote of it in my blog somewhere, exactly when that new seven-day-flare cycle began. I’ve repeatedly hypothesized that this is the bartonella henselae strain coming out, but now I think I may actually be right.

  1. I finally got the scratch-mark like rash on my leg that everyone else gets,
  2. it has a seven-ish day flare cycle like I have,
  3. the dots on my feet are bartonella, according to numerous sources, including my doctor, and
  4. the symptoms are still bartonella-like, just at a different interval and with different dominant symptoms.

So either that has happened, or something that acts like all these things but isn’t bartonella (a “BLO,” or “bartonella-like organism,” as so many physicians refer to it?), is attacking me right now, and that’s the thing we’re trying to finish killing within the next three months.

Further research via moi has confirmed that bartonella really does cause the type of general, terrible joint pain I was getting. The good news is: It’s gone! I’m no longer aching or feeling like my bones are going to snap. I guess the Bactrim brought it out of my joints, and for that, I’m thankful. My knees still intermittently give me issues, but I still think that’s the Lyme disease.

I’ve been very fatigued lately. I’m unsure why. I get short of breath too easily, and get a headache when I stand up (not adequate blood/oxygen/pressure in my brain?). But I’ve stopped coughing all the time, finally. I’ve not had fevers, but last Thursday my temperature was 99.something in the morning, at my doctor’s visit. I’m randomly nauseated, multiple times a day lately, and from Tuesday-Thursday my left eye twitched all the time. According to my blog, I posted on the 10th of October that they had been twitching frequently also… I don’t remember that, but that’s why I keep this blog! Ha! I hope it’s a herx from the Bactrim and not a bug trying to show. They haven’t twitched since April-ish.

The only bits of troubling news is, one, my neurologist is leaving. Yes, the one I loved so much, that took me a decade to find, someone who actually would deal with my complicated case and take me seriously? Sigh. I scheduled one last appointment with him next month before he leaves. After that I’ll be seeing his colleague, who I hope is just as amazing as him.

And my cardiologist wouldn’t give me the results of my echocardiogram over the phone. You know what that usually means… I’m prepared for him to tell me my valve regurgitation is worse (wouldn’t surprise me) or maybe something to do with heart failue (also wouldn’t surprise me). If it’s anything else, I have no idea, but I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it, as the saying goes. :) I see him on Tuesday. This might be strange to say, or even stranger to read, but even if something is wrong, I still think I’m incredibly lucky. I’m alive, and given my particular circumstances and illness combination (and the fact that trees really, really love me), I think it’s a miracle that I am here every day, no matter what.

a rainbow at night

More rashes?

So first off, HEADACHE TIME. My eyes hurt and the front of my head hurts, but no sound sensitivity. I’ve been using the wheelchair off-and-on the past few days to make things a little easier on myself–whether it’s the joint pain or the blood pressure or just being out of breath at the time, lots of things are making it difficult to get around right now! It’s always easier by evening, though.

After some chatting on the support groups it would seem that my persisting joint pain might actually be bartonella, but the really severe episodes I have where I wake up unable to move my knees might still be Lyme. I haven’t had other instances of that, though I am now generally arthritis-y in every joint, particularly my hips, which is.. not typically Lyme-y to hang around like that? I can’t remember ever having this before. I’ll keep track of it but I’m glad I’m not the only one to experience this during treatment.

But what has startled me to make this post isn’t to rant about the joint pain, which I’ve accepted as a random part of the Bactrim that’s hopefully killing the bugs. No, this is Tuesday, so mid-week flare (previously the Saturday/weekend blues) is upon me. Right now I have another ankle rash. It’s an itchy, slightly rasied red area, with clusters of red pinpricks in it. I also have some other spots on my lower legs, that do not itch, and the red dots on my feet are back as I feared they might do. They’ve been appearing slightly the past few days–so whether it’s Lyme or bart or any combination of things, something is definitely active within me right now. These also do not itch, but some of them are much more prominent/noticable than the last time they sprung up. There are fewer of them, though?

This ankle-cluster-rash is the exact same thing I got a couple weeks before the whole tree thing happened, BEFORE I got re-exposure to the fleas, so I’m more likely to believe it’s something I already had than it being the result of mysterious-new-flea-infection. I don’t know what to make of it. About two weeks ago I got a similar bump-thing above my left knee that looked like a scratchmark, but it wasn’t? It gradually faded away as all of these do.

What exactly is going on, here? Is this another case of “one infection is down so another is going to pop up”? Or is this just another strain/another side of the bartonella infections I’m trying so desperately to eradicate? I’m halfway tempted to make an appointment with my (not-Lyme Literate but still Open-Minded) infectious disease specialist and see what he thinks might be going on. If it were a med reaction, it’d be consistent, wouldn’t it? Not just randomly happen when I’m also experiencing bug-symptoms?

This is confusing. :\

a rainbow at night