IVIG can help eradicate Bartonella infection: My success thus far.

Photo of the sun setting into the Pacific ocean at dusk in San Francisco, California, USA
estimated reading time: 5 minutes 12 seconds

After almost seven years with this infection, I think the bartonella may be gone for good.

If you recall from this previous post, I talked about how my health was either about to nosedive or finally overthrow this infection thanks to the millions of antibodies I now get infused into my body every four weeks (certainly many of which are bartonella antibodies, since this bacteria is so common)… Guess which one happened?

Since April, I’ve been having none–none–of those symptoms I talked about eight months ago.

My favourite part of this (aside from the “won’t have bartonella-induced damage as a possible cause of death” thing, of course) is that I finally have my personality back, without a lapse every five or six days. I am emotionally stable! I also think that toxoplasmosis may have been playing a far greater role than my doctors originally thought, because my level of extraversion is also completely gone and I am now a solid INFJ instead of the ambivert I’d been for most of my life… But that’s a topic for another day.

As I said the first time the bartonella was painstakingly beaten into remission, it’s been known to relapse, sometimes even up to 15 years later. But for right now? It’s over.

It’s over it’s over it’s over.

And now, to elaborate on all the things that IVIG has done and is doing: Continue reading “IVIG can help eradicate Bartonella infection: My success thus far.”

The Killer in the Crowd

♪

“Who is the betrayer, who’s the killer in the crowd?
The one who creeps in corridors and doesn’t make a sound.” ♫

All right. Something I never considered the IVIG would do (and luckily so, or else I might not have went forward with it!) was that it would so very obviously do the one thing I’ve avoided doing at all costs for the past two years: Wake up my immune system. Because that would re-activate the bartonella like it has every time in the past since I contracted this parasitic-bacteria.

And that’s exactly what it did. Continue reading “The Killer in the Crowd”

My tonsil got me potentially-life-altering IVIG therapy.

And here’s how.

Intravenous immunoglobulin (or IVIG) is a blood product made from thousands of donors to produce just a single dose, and used in the treatment of immunodeficiency and immune-mediated neurological disease, amongst other serious things.

I guess the story starts several months ago, when I began contemplating seeing my immunologist again to have my immune function retested. Not that long after, I began getting spots on my tonsils which, after having some lymph node pain in my neck and ear pain, I figured was the result of an ear infection trying to push its way through; the tonsils are lymph nodes, after all.

After my ear improved with tea tree oil drops for three days, the tonsil spots proceeded to go away…and then come back worse. There I was thinking my immune system had won against something, but no! Accompanying this, my neck and face felt like they were on fire, and I had stabbing lymph node pain from my face to my right arm all day. It seemed to irritate the previous nerve damage in my face. (And mind you, I’m already on ibuprofen and percocet daily–the pain was going through them.) I wondered if I had gotten some type of stubborn virus, began to worry, and decided I needed to make an appointment because I couldn’t handle this one on my own anymore. And getting that appointment went something like this:

Mentally pair my current problem with having wanted to get my immune system checked, anyway. Decide that’s perfect, I can do two in one; have a great feeling about that. Call to make an appointment and find out my usual immunologist left, so made appointment with new woman in the office. Suddenly start to feel uneasy that I made that decision while distracted by two people in my car. Call back to inquire about which immunologist in that office likes complicated cases. Receptionist says she doesn’t know, but the one I just made an appointment with was available more (in town more often), so that might be something I could consider; I say okay and hang up. Still feel uneasy and nagging intuition that I should call back AGAIN and take the cancellation they offered for The Other doctor, even though it was two days later than the one I’d just made and I was really hurting. Try to find an explanation for this intuition (because I just like to have explanation for things, if I can); begin doing research. Find out the Other Doctor loves complicated cases, AND he has thirty years experience, AND he’s the same doctor I saw twelve years ago at the onset of the M.E. (who helped me even without realizing it by giving me a steroid to slow down the initial inflammation). Immediately called back for a third time that day to take the cancellation–finally feel at ease.

I felt ridiculous calling back so many times to change appointment dates and doctors, but. Intuition over feeling silly for a few seconds. The strange thing was that when I called to change the appointment–which I’d scheduled with the reason of having tonsil trouble and needing to recheck my immune system function–they asked me, “and you’re beginning IVIG?” I said, “…No? No one has ever offered me that!” and she said, “Hmm, that’s weird! Someone wrote down that you were starting it!” Hmmm…

I’d almost canceled my appointment before ever going to see him, because the grapefruit seed extract/olive leaf extract rinse I’d been using had–between making the appointment while in severe pain and the days before the appointment actually arrived–helped my tonsil to the point of there being no spots left. “Luckily” I didn’t. By the time I arrived, he actually said it was fine!

Long story short, my current doctor, the “Other Doctor,” who shall henceforth be referred to as My Immunologist, is wonderful. He doesn’t know fully what M.E. is, but understands that it inflames my brain and causes progressive muscle weakness. He was knowledgable that once you get certain infections there’s a possibility of them going chronic, so we didn’t have to argue over that. And for some reason, in his chart as well, was written that I was there to start IVIG. I told him the same thing, that I’d never even mentioned IVIG to anyone, and no one had ever offered it to me. (If you’re not aware, there’s a certain supply of IVIG and they don’t just give it to anyone.) So, staring at my page-long medical history and at a loss of how to help me, he offered it to me!

So, because of this tonsil and the other dozen quirky things that got me to that appointment at that time with that doctor, I have now gone through the system, gotten approved with the help of test results showing that my immune system is still.. well, my immune system, and both doesn’t have enough of things or produce adequate antibodies, and am starting my first IVIG infusion tomorrow, Monday, October 6th, at 9am at an infusion center. This will do either one of two things: Help me, or affirmatively rule out that this is never going to be one of my options so I can finally lay it to rest. But I’m obviously banking on it helping! And if I feel safe enough, they can even come do the infusions in my home!! Which, by the way? Is a method of infusion that my insurance had only begun approving three days before that appointment.

Of course, my tonsil has done what it’s been doing for literally months now and the spots have returned and even popped up on both sides of my mouth. We’ve at least ruled out strep, though. He immediately called me in an appointment to the local office to do a culture with his associate, the lady doctor, upon hearing the spots abruptly came back over the weekend and spread. Neither one of them is sure why this is suddenly happening, but she thinks those and my other lymph node pains have been the result of an overburdened lymphatic system and weakened immune system, because nothing else has changed besides my relapse back in June. Basically my body is probably just overwhelmed. I liken it to a skin infection I get on my neck only when my immune system is overwhelmed. This could lead to tonsil stones if it doesn’t clear up, but he’s hoping the IVIG will help that, too. Frankly, since the severe pain has subsided, I’m content to let it work itself out, now! (With some grapefruit seed extract rinse, to help things along.)

My favourite part about this, besides the actual IVIG, is that I get fluids before and after each all-day infusion because of my chronic dehydration. And I get to do this once a month. Which means I get fluids once a month. I haven’t said anything here, but I’ve returned to needing fluids in the ER every few months. Some friends helped me discover coconut water in June, which has helped a lot–now I just come very close but can usually “save myself”–but it’s still a daily battle. So if the IVIG goes well, I can continue getting monthly fluids as well, and dehydration will be one less thing on my balancing plate. I finally see a new endocrinologist later this month to discuss treatment for what was in 2009 borderline adrenal insufficiency, which should help that even more.

Another thing my bloodwork revealed was a high eosinophil count, which for me means the bartonella and/or mycoplasma are active–no kidding–as that was one of their first presentations. They’re not as high as they were before when things were progressing really quickly, though, so that’s comforting–maybe this IVIG can help subdue them! I’m very eager to see what will happen when I can actually make antibodies!

I’ve joined the Immunodeficiency Foundation, so if you’re on there, look out for me, or let me know your username! My thoughts about primary immunodeficiency usually take the back-burner in comparison to everything else I must balance, but when I think about it, living with it really does add a layer to my life that people with full-functioning immune systems just don’t have to worry about. I’m looking forward to being part of the support community.

 

As of this month, it’s now been two years since the big relapse (before this one) that made me stop all treatment in favor of, um, living… Now I get to try this! I’m thinking surely it will do something, for all of these factors to have led me to this point? I don’t believe in coincidence! I’ve been visited by multiple types of owls in my backyard almost every night since this whole tonsil thing started, despite maybe only hearing a wild owl three times in my entire life before this. Owls are symbolic of intuition, wisdom, the ability to see what others do not, and their presence announces a symbolic death, major life transition and upcoming change. 

Last night the Great Horned Owl visited me again.

a rainbow at night

How do I sum this up in a title?

Avenue of the Giants, Humboldt Redwoods State Park

First, I can’t thank anyone enough for the response on my last post; it was quite unexpected. I’m glad to have touched the hearts of so many and to have received such a beautiful outpouring of love and support in the comments and e-mails that followed. It really helped me feel less alone, and you should all stop to think of how amazing you are for reaching out to a practical stranger. Thank you.

Right now the biggest thing on my mind is, a friend of mine who I wrote about several months ago, Brooke, is in the very final stages of myalgic encephalomyelitis. There were recently several weeks when insurance troubles denied her hospice care, during which she deteriorated very quickly. Last I heard, or anyone heard, she was re-evaluated and waiting to see if they would re-accompany her in her final days. I assume she’s received a decision from them thus far, but as anyone with or taking care of someone with M.E. knows, it’s all you can do to breathe sometimes, and I haven’t heard anything else. I do know she is getting at least some pain relief, and that is a blessing, and recent complications mean that it won’t be long…which is probably a blessing, too, if you ask me. She worked extremely hard to produce this post and a subsequent one to cover any confusion about her decision to deny “life saving” measures (questionable terminology) such as feeding tubes, which would only work to extend her suffering past her natural end. Her family will be delivering any updates as they occur…

[Edit: As of writing this, she’s managed to produce one more post clarifying that her amazing doctor convinced hospice to accept her for another 60 days. And amazingly, her bravery has led to being a part of an upcoming documentary about the severity of true myalgic encephalomyelitis, one that might chronicle her passing from this world in an effort that will accomplish her original goal of Documenting M.E. and all that it entails, to help spread the truth for us all.]

Also, I’m in the midst of a further relapse. My health has been in a state of decline since June, and additional stressor after additional stressor pushed my body over the edge. Or at least that’s what I assume happened, because I can’t pinpoint one particular thing that did it. I do know the emotionally draining act of writing a goodbye letter to my friend–because life happens–sent me into incapacitating illness for a straight week, during which I was struggling to remain conscious every single day. It was quite scary, but I’ve since become able to stay awake more easily…

It actually took me a while to realize I had relapsed. When I first felt the decline, I expected to recover in a few days, as my health is highly sporadic and changes every day, every hour, every ten minutes some days… And I even expected this recovery might be more extended because of the seemingly continuous stream of triggers… But while I was knocked out last week, it occurred to me that my waiting to improve had spanned about 8-9 weeks already.

I may write further posts on this and other topics, soon, but right now it’s easier for me to do other things that only require small periods of focus. I’m updating my website in several areas to include accurate information about the severity of Lyme disease, bartonella, and mycoplasma infection; a new section on Mindfulness; and a reference page for those needing help understanding/caring for people with severe myalgic encephalomyelitis, which will include Brooke’s post. (Speaking of which, Severe M.E. Awareness Day is August 8th. I don’t need reminded, though.)

Please continue to send your prayers, metta, and positive thoughts to our dear Brooke, her husband, and the rest of her friends and family. Also, to everyone who has recently subscribed here, thank you, and rest assured I will continue to write. (The Life Lessons section has a collection of my favourite posts, in the mean time.) My girlfriend might even be helping write a few sections and/or articles. I shall be focused on finding stability in this relapse.

If you think you can help with any of the sections or want to contribute either with writing or links that you’ve found particularly helpful, don’t be shy about getting in touch! This site is for my expression, but the information I stand behind should be for the benefit of all.

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 end-stage 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. Most types of pain are 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.

[ETA, 2016 Feb] In Dr. Hyde’s book about Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (which back then in 1992 he abbreviated as “M.E./CFS”), he describes our malaise like this, under “Pain Syndromes Associated with [M.E.]”:

” ‘Malaise has probably occurred in every [ME epidemic] described in the literature.’ Malaise is accentuated in the Initial Stage and it recurs for as long as the disease process exists. Malaise is almost impossible to describe. It is often referred to as the pain and discomfort that one has during the acute phase of an influenza. However, it is not always the same. The patient feels terrible, feels as though he is about to die.

“It particularly injures the sensory and dulls the cognitive abilities of the brain. The pain seems to originate everywhere, both on and within the chest and abdominal areas, head and extremities. The rapid muscle and brain fatigue that is normal in [M.E.] becomes accentuated.”

As you can see, what I described when I first posted this in 2013 is almost exactly what Dr. Hyde wrote; I was absolutely floored when I read it, and honestly, most of the book is like this: full of specific, uncanny validation about all the quirky things that occur in this disease. If you have M.E. I highly suggest you buy it while it’s still available.

Some of the other things I wrote are very specific of Lyme disease, such as the burning in my face where the infection damaged multiple nerves, and the “buzzing” sensation, which many Lymies describe as, it’s like you’re sitting atop the hood of a car while it’s running. [/ETA]

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, some 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 (or at least, I assume).

I used to requite 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 pain which alternated with 3-pain-free weeks, seemingly for no reason. Now, since my relapse in October, I’ve needed them every single 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 close this article. But when I talk about being in pain, to all of this is what I refer.

a rainbow at night

Trigeminal Neuralgia: A Consequence of Lyme Disease

…Or bartonella. Or mycoplasma. Or similar infections that are commonly found in the same tick that carries Lyme disease. Unless you’re like me and you happen to get them from other sources like fleas, because you’re immunocompromised and collect infections like some people collect stamps.

I’m not sure which is the true culprit. I know I started getting occipital neuralgia about four months after my tick bite, so that is definitely Lyme disease-related, but I haven’t had an attack of that in a long time; I think it’s been a year?

My serious cranial nerve involvement began when I got Bell’s Palsy immediately after contracting mycoplasma pneumoniae, an infection that usually causes “walking pneumonia” but has been known since the 1970s to also wreak havoc elsewhere, like the nervous system. It can cause just about everything that Lyme disease can, and persist even after treatment by mimicking the body’s own cells. My right eye twitched and my face drooped. I’ve mostly recovered, but some of the damage is permanent. Then my left eye began twitching and it got damaged. That is also permanent. It was all downhill from there as far as nerve damage goes, but I’m here to talk about the ones in my face.

I began treating with Rifampin and Doxycycline in January 2011, and all hell broke loose: That’s when the autonomic neuropathy made itself apparent, culminating in its diagnosis a few months later. I can’t coordinate how it all fits together, but I know my vagus nerve became damaged, my trigeminal nerve got involved somewhere, the Bell’s palsy is a factor (i.e., damage to the seventh cranial nerve, literally called “the facial nerve”), and my migraines are connected.

When the autonomic mayhem landed me in the hospital, I would try to eat something, get an “episode” where my vagus nerve would trigger all sorts of things it wasn’t supposed to, and I’d get a migraine. I got so many migraines I had to be on Topamax for almost a year. Now these days, instead of my nervous system having a meltdown, I’ll sometimes get facial pain when I start digesting, again triggering migraine-like pain on the right side of my face until the digestion stops. This can happen even if I haven’t eaten, but the act of eating can apparently be a huge trigger for trigeminal neuralgia; more on that horror story, below. But how did they all end up triggering each other?

  • The trigeminal nerve is implemented in migraines and facial pain.
  • The facial nerve can also be implemented in facial pain (ha, no kidding!), and the tongue numbness I get.
  • Episodes of trigeminal neuralgia can involve the trigeminal nerve and the facial nerve simultaneously.
  • And the vagus nerve–as it pertains to this post–is responsible for digestion-related reflexes…

But again, how did it come to be that my vagal reflexes got connected to my trigeminal response, in ways they previously were not? All I know for sure is one or more of these infections attacked my cranial nerves, and I’m left with odd, painful remnants as my body has attempted to heal.

 

After my last post, the “tension-headache-thing-that-wasn’t-quite-a-tension-headache”-thing went away and was replaced with the worst episode of trigeminal neuralgia I’ve had to date. Perhaps the tension-like pain was a precursor? (A Lymie friend on Twitter mentioned that she often gets headaches or migraines before her trigeminal neuralgia attacks, too.)

The best way I can think to describe what happened is that, I ate a bowl of crunchy cereal, and immediately after it felt like my teeth were going to explode. It’s one of those things where, if someone else told me the level of pain they were in, I would swear they were exaggerating because how is that possible? My other attacks have been similar–extremely severe, extremely sudden pain that makes you start shaking from its intensity–but it’s never lasted quite this long.

I remember a long time ago writing about another unusual headache, something that acted like “an ice pick headache that keeps on going.” In hindsight, that headache that felt like someone stabbed me in the forehead may have been an episode of trigeminal neuralgia, too. :\ It certainly sounds like it, from what I wrote.

I hate how deceptive it can be, when it starts to fade away only to attack you suddenly again. It took several days to completely go away and stop fading in and out. I have moments of unexplained facial pain daily, anyway, but nothing so severe as that. For my usual, spontaneous facial pain–the kind that is often tied to my digestion for some unexplained reason–butalbital is a huge help. It’s a huge help in my neuropathic pain in general, actually, even though I’ve never heard of anyone else using it for that. Half a tablet of Fioricet (or Bucet, which is the same as Fioricet but without the caffeine; most doctors don’t even know it exists) and that kind of nerve pain is usually gone.

Like occipital neuralgia, nothing much helps trigeminal neuralgia, or at least nothing that my system can tolerate. (Things like carbamazepine are completely out of the question for me.) That night, I was already on hydrocodone and ibuprofen, but had to take twice as much as I usually need, and it still only dulled it enough so that I wasn’t shaking. I couldn’t lie down and put any pressure on my skull until it began to ease.

The gratitude I had for being able to take those pain relievers cannot be put into words. And I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that something can hurt that much, and that I went through it. If you’d have told me two years ago I’d be going through something that would make my face feel like I was being stabbed and my teeth as if they were going to explode out of my skull at any moment, I’d have called you crazy.

I feel so much for people who have to go through TN, especially if they have no idea what is causing it. At least I know what is causing mine.

If you do need to be properly evaluated for Lyme disease–and unless you’ve specifically seen a Lyme Literate Medical Doctor or LLMD, you probably do–you can read this and call IGeneX to order a testing kit for your doctor. Igenex has an accuracy rate of 95% and tests for all possible reactive bands, unlike standard testing which only checks you for the most common thirteen and produces a staggering rate of false-negatives. Additionally, you may watch Under Our Skin, an excellent documentary film containing people with illnesses like Fibromyalgia, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, Multiple Sclerosis, Parkinson’s, and ALS, who found out Lyme disease was the cause of their symptoms; most recovered. (Not in the US or want more help? Click here.)

a rainbow at night

(Postscript: This is not related to TN, but with this month’s Lyme flare up, I had my old parkinsonism symptoms of slow movements and “freezing” while walking. It’s been a few months since I’ve had those, and they definitely caught me by surprise, especially with how slow my hands were functioning. Those of us with Lyme disease know how startling it can be when you’re doing (relatively) “okay” then suddenly your body thinks it has succumbed to Parkinson’s overnight! Luckily, as usual, it only lasted a few days and I am all right, now.)

Mycoplasma and Reflections on Having PANS/PANDAS

The most important thing to report this time is that my random cough continued to be persistent and began to worsen, so I saw my primary physician who says I now have asthma. (Well, asthmatic bronchitis–two in one, aren’t I lucky!) If I were to assume this to be infection and/or herxing related, I would say this:

Since I’m fighting Mycoplasma pneumoniae, a bacterium that usually causes pneumonia (but also loves to attack your nervous system), my best guess is that treating this beast has caused a lot of herxing/die-off/inflammation in my lungs, where it’s most likely been hiding out, at least partially. And said die-off may be causing the inflammation that’s triggering this asthmatic response… I mean, it can’t be any coincidence that as soon as I start trying to kill the pathogen that has caused lung problems for me in the past, I get inflammation in my lungs. Right?

But if that’s not it, then I have genetics to thank. I’m going to go with “will hopefully go away as I treat Mycoplasma” theory until it proves itself otherwise. At least I’m not having any trouble breathing. I just have this cough, which, after three days on Dulera (which is literally just my Nasonex in an inhalable form…mixed with formoterol), I’m much, much better. :)


I’m convinced I had PANDAS (PANS) as a child; it just wasn’t a diagnose-able condition back then. If so, then I definitely still have it, because my body has clearly reacted the same way as an adult, as I’ll discuss later below. It stands for “Pediatric Autoimmune Neuropsychiatric Disorders Associated with Streptococcal Infections,” and is basically what it sounds like: An autoimmune response to strep that causes damage to the brain, primarily resulting in neuropsychiatric illness like obsessive-compulsive disorder and tic-disorders like Tourette’s Syndrome. (PANS refers to “pediatric acute-onset neuropsychiatric syndrome,” the same as PANDAS but without being caused specifically by streptococci.) In the “My Story” section, I ponder over whether or not something triggered my childhood-onset disorders of OCD and Tourette’s Syndrome, whether that might have been a brush with tick-borne infection, or something similar. After realizing there is an actual condition that does exactly this, it all makes too much sense:

  • my primary immunodeficiency disease makes me extremely susceptible to infections (especially Strep)
  • a history of autoimmune responses to things (like vaccinations)
  • the fact that both my OCD and Tourette’s were acute-onset
  • those conditions flare up whenever I get additional infections, especially bacterial

As Lisa Wolk-Kilion writes for one national magazine:

“Although the word ‘pediatric’ is in both names, it is surmised that the disease is not merely a childhood one. . . The encephalitic-type illness is brought on by an infection, resulting in antibodies that barrage the basal ganglia. … Once the autoimmune system is damaged, any germs can trigger a PANS flare.”

So, an autoimmune disease that responds to infection by attacking the brain. I was practically a walking target to get myalgic encephalomyelitis in the future, wasn’t I? :\

People with a history of PANS/PANDAS are supposed to stay on prophylactic antibiotics until age 21 to prevent additional episodes of this infection-triggered disorder that might lead to further brain damage. Now I wonder: If my doctors had known about this, if I’d have been on prophylactic antibiotics until age 21, would that have prevented the trauma my immune system went through after I got that Hepatitis B vaccination, where I contracted every infection that passed my way for the next two years… Thus, would the bug that triggered my M.E. still have triggered it, if I hadn’t been so beaten down? Or maybe I wouldn’t have gotten it… It doesn’t quite matter, at this point. I don’t think major events like this are coincidence, and if I was supposed to learn through the experience of illness then no matter what, I would have gotten something. But. It’s interesting. Like another piece of my puzzle…


On that note, I have to state the obvious, that Mycoplasma and Strep are very similar in this respect: They usually cause upper respiratory infection, but in the immunocompromised, they can wreak havoc everywhere, especially the nervous system. You know what happened to me when I got both Bartonella and Mycoplasma a month apart from each other in 2008? My Tourette’s syndrome and stuttering flared up so bad I could barely talk for three months. I also got extremely paranoid, showing clear neuropsychiatric involvement. Additionally, that’s when my movement disorder began worsening. I had the beginnings of the dystonia since getting Lyme disease (even though I didn’t know I’d gotten Lyme, yet), but after those two infections, things progressed very quickly. (The Tourette’s and stuttering eventually died back down, though they love to pop up at random, especially when I’m under emotional or physical stress.)

Treating Bartonella helped the dystonia symptoms A LOT…a lot a lot. But the thing is, the antibiotics that treat Bartonella are the same antibiotics that treat Mycoplasma (or at least the ones I was on, except for Bactrim), so I have no idea of knowing which infection is responsible for it. It’s not gone yet (as evidenced by my oromandibular dystonia showing itself more lately), but the worst parts of it stopped progressing after a year on Rifampin (with other antibiotics).

This is one of the reasons I can’t type up a post explaining my Bartonella experience and treatment: Because even though I can pinpoint a lot of which symptoms were caused by Bartonella–especially the ones that recurred every 5-7 days–I have absolutely no way of knowing exactly which infection caused what, specifically in regards to my dystonia and other related movement disorders. Because I got those infections a month apart from each other, and I treated them both at the same time. I can type about my theories, but I can’t put a bunch of information out there that people are going to read, without being sure. All I have are correlations, and patterns, which I happen to have a talent at spotting.

Two years ago I hypothesized that Mycoplasma (which I easily tested positive for on the first try, unlike the others which I had to coax out with speciality labs) was going to play a much larger role in my health issues than I had at first assumed… I had no idea how right that would be.

“The association of mycoplasma with diseases like arthritis and chronic fatigue syndrome, which has been implicated with a response of the body’s immune system against its own components, is consistent with the growth and behavior of mycoplasma. The absence of a conventional cell wall allows mycobacteria to penetrate into the white blood cells of the immune system. Because some mycoplasma will exist free of the blood cells and because the bacteria are capable of slow growth in the body, the immune system will detect and respond to a mycobacterial infection. But this response is generally futile. The bacteria hidden inside the white blood cells will not be killed. The immune components instead might begin to attack other antigens of the host that are similar in three-dimensional structure to the mycobacterial antigens. Because mycoplasma infections can become chronic, damage to the body over an extended time and the stress produced on the immune system may allow other microorganisms to establish infections.

“Strategies to eliminate mycoplasma infections are now centering on the strengthening of the immune system, and long-term antibiotic use (e.g., months or years). Even so, it is still unclear whether antibiotics are truly effective on mycoplasma bacteria. Mycoplasma can alter the chemical composition of the surface each time a bacterium divides. Thus, there may be no constant target for an antibiotic.”

Mycoplasma Infections via Encyclopedia.com
World of Microbiology and Immunology | 2003, The Gale Group Inc.

If anyone has any experience or information they want to share with me about PANS/PANDAS or similar things triggering OCD and Tourette’s Syndrome, feel free to comment or contact me.

a rainbow at night


Updated December 2015 to add helpful links about PANS/PANDAS

See also:

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).

  • 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.
  • 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 (adjusting their individual volumes as desired). Also, decided that one day I will own a professional camera.
  • June 9th: Shaking for most of the day with very visible tremors.
  • 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

No more minocycline and guilt over happiness.

The reason I have this blog is to keep track of my symptoms and occasionally share a ramble. I never imagined I’d be getting thousands of visitors… Thank you, for your views and your comments, and I sincerely hope the things I’ve written can help someone else. Many of you have shared that they have, and I will always feel blessed by it.

So yes, I need to update on a few things for future reference… The first one being: My brain fog. If I haven’t said it before, let me say it now: Flagyl gives me the worst brain fog ever. I’m glad I only take it four days a week. My typing has been fairly atrocious lately (sometimes worse than others) so I apologize in advance if this entry doesn’t come out right. I know some of you have to translate it into your native language and this one might not be.. erm.. see, I can’t even think of how to finish that statement! :\

My eyes have been hurting for weeks. I’m so sensitive to light, and I get stabbing pains in them. I’ve spent the past week in the dark. My nervous system has been very sensitive, in general, since I started treatment, however my eyes don’t usually hurt this much… I’m wondering if the Nasonex has anything to do with it. I’ve taken it for.. probably a decade, now? But I had a two year break, and I don’t recall it having an accompanying Glaucoma Warning in the past…? But it does, now. I’ve stopped needing it, so I stopped it two days ago. Today my eyes ARE better, but it’s impossible to draw any conclusions from that. It’s probably just coincidental timing and I’ll get a severe case of eye pain tonight like I did yesterday, aha. If in the future, however, I start Nasonex and get crazy eye symptoms, I’ll know something.

It would appear that warning-hive I got a few weeks ago held true to its title. On the 12th of May, I got very, very sick, and had to stop all antibiotics. Aside from the fact that I felt completely flu-ish with a severe headache, I’d gotten to the point that I could not eat anything, even drinking water was becoming difficult, and amassed in me shaking, becoming dehydrated, and needing Zofran three times a day to keep my nervous system from having a meltdown. These are the same things that the Doxycycline did to me last year before I was hospitalized for five days. We were worried that the minocycline might do this, too, which is why we’ve been easing into it for all these weeks… It’s clear now that I can no longer handle the tetracyclines. I’m just glad that (1) I knew what was about to happen so I stopped the medicine in time, and (2) that I basically had available to me the same medications that they gave me last year to pull me through it (except re-hydrating took a tad bit longer without an IV). After three “missed” doses of antibiotics I was able to eat a chicken sandwich, and it’s been a steady improvement since then…well, at least in regards to being able to eat and keep food in my system.

Wednesday I couldn’t breathe again, having much the same symptoms as two weeks prior. And I’m still having that problem: I cannot breathe when I sit up, but as long as I’m lying down, I’m pretty much okay, though I still have to gasp for air every so often.

Now, I’ve had flare-ups every two weeks for almost two years, now–since summer of 2010, I believe, when I took grapefruit seed extract (GSE) for a few weeks–so this isn’t too much of a shock. But I usually have Lyme symptoms during those flare ups. This time, I haven’t. At all. I’ve had lung pains, and coughing a lot, and an inability to breathe right. That can’t be Lyme disease?

The reason I assumed the GSE had woken up the Lyme disease when I took it, and gave me flares every two weeks instead of every four weeks, is because GSE is a supposed to be a destroyer of Lyme cysts (i.e., the cysts that the bugs were hiding in, open up and start causing symptoms, then you can kill them with antibiotics)… Well, I’m on Flagyl, which is THE cyst buster, so could that have anything to do with my minor Lyme symptoms during these flares? Or is this not Lyme disease at all, and is it Mycoplasma? My money is on the latter for this particular scenario, given the hive and the breathing problems and lung problems which are all the things that I was worried might happen. :\ Because I tell you, my other symptoms are very mild. Shockingly so. When I was off antibiotics this past week, my neuro symptoms barely even flared up! I’ve been having mild “hot foot” sensations in my right leg, and that’s about it. (My tags say I last had that.. well, let’s just say that every time I’ve mentioned it, I’m also talking about Mycoplasma… The evidence mounts!) Nothing went to attack my arms, nothing started quickly progressing like a starved animal waiting to pounce… That is very exciting, and makes me feel like we’ve at least done something the past four months. As I usually say, time will tell! I’ll keep updating on it, and hopefully a pattern will emerge.

Until then, we just make sure I’m on both Lyme and Mycoplasma antibiotics. So I started Biaxin today! I’ve heard great things about this one, and it treats borrelia burgdorferi and mycoplasma pneumoniae and even bartonella, in the event that some of those critters have survived and are saving up for a revolt. Also, the pills are bright orange!

Ah, and so far, I feel accomplished with my goal to not be advocacy-frenzied. I’ve reposted/retweeted a few things, but that’s about it. Life is good, despite everything. I’m happy, even though I feel like I have society and ten thousand other sources telling me I’m not allowed or shouldn’t be… I’m sick, I’m “supposed” to be complaining about everything, right? Ha. Last week I felt the urge to announce, “I’m so happy to be alive.” Because I was. Because I am. And afterward I felt so odd about it. One friend said, “You feel odd because society tells you to complain about your woes. You’re happy because you see what matters most.” Which is pretty dead-on. Another said that people see someone like me “who is thankful for another day and enjoys life as much as possible, and they make a hateful comment” because they’re trying every materialistic avenue available to them and still can’t feel happiness and appreciation.

I suppose when it comes down to it, I was worried someone would take it in the wrong way, or find a way to interpret it negatively, or think I was just “saying it to be saying it” even though I really do mean it. Also, I didn’t want it to sound conceited? I know people going through minor troubles who are very bothered day in and day out, and I have.. erm, well, a lot of daily troubles and suffering and yet lately I have maintained happiness. It’s just a fact. So I don’t want it to sound like I think I’m better than anyone, or something. Because I used to be bothered by daily insignificant things, too! I’m just so happy to not be that person anymore, to have inner joy no matter what, and I want to keep that balance between expressing that happiness about it, but not rubbing it in everyone’s faces. Then again, I only have so much control over how other people interpret what I say, especially when I know my heart is in the right place: Again, balance.

a rainbow at night

Anxiety at night: Herxing with Rifampin and Zithro

Well. I have to start taking my Topamax before my night dose of Rifampin, now. For the past two months I’ve taken it two hours after the Rifampin, before I go to bed. It helps me relax in addition to keeping away Migraines, so it seemed like a win-win. But (and this is nothing new) the anxiety I get at night, about an hour or two after the Rifampin, is getting unbearable! Several times I’ve been too scared to take the Topamax, for any number of illogical and plainly dumb reasons. One night I took it anyway just to prove to my brain that nothing was going to happen, which was fine. But I can’t go through that stress every single night!

I wasn’t sure why the night dose affects me this way while the day dose doesn’t, but after some thought I figure it must be because I take the first dose in the morning, after 12 hours of nothing. The night dose I take five hours after the Zithromax, so the potent combination must be what’s causing the worse herxing at night. I also have dystonia at night, worse than the day; it’s usually brief, but it almost always happens.

Today, and starting last night, I’ve had the left foot heat sensations. I’ve had no appetite and been experiencing stabbing pains in my torso–chest, stomach, intestines, just everywhere. Ibuprofen was a huge help so I can only assume inflammation, as per usual. Also, the left side of my face is exhibiting worser symptoms (esp. the muscles of my left eye), and I made a note yesterday that for the past three-to-four days, I’ve had worser numbness. I’m unsure if I mentioned it yesterday…

Despite this, I did have a few good moments today. I danced a little after the ibuprofen went to work. I took a bath and washed my own hair, even used the hairdryer. And finally by tonight, I’ve gained an appetite back. I’m still feverless, exhibiting that strange “stuck at 98.9” thing that happened a couple of.. months?.. ago.

This is off topic, but since I mentioned mycoplasma in my last entry… I’m pretty sure Rifampin also treats that? I know it treats c. pneumoniae, and some forms of the mycoplasma group, so I hope that it treats M. pneumoniae as well! That would be great, since Zithro definitely treats myco; I’m on possibly the most perfect combination of antibiotics for my infections–lyme disease, bartonella, mycoplasma–that there is. I have such a wonderful LLMD, and thank God for helping me get this far.

a rainbow at night