I’m pleased to be writing that I’ve made many great strides in getting my life back on track over the last three weeks. I logged back into my Twitter account and began using it on a daily basis; participated in two “spoonie” meet-ups online, #SpoonieChat and #SCTweetFlix; am replying to some messages when my brain has readily-available thoughts on the topic; and have joined a sort-of spoonie/artist/support group/project, even if I only participate sporadically.
Other things haven’t changed so much. I have yet to open any e-mails, or even log-in to my account for that matter. And I’m still staying far away from the M.E. community and the Lyme disease community, i.e. anything to do with that style of advocacy or activism. I momentarily tried to look at how the Lyme community was fairing, but immediately saw memorial posts concerning a young woman’s suicide. I’m not psychologically prepared for that constant exposure again, as I think I’ve made very clear. I stepped into the M.E. community to test the waters, also, but that was equally a mistake.
Mostly, I’ve gained back a lot of personal power that I didn’t even realize I’d given away. I’m on a journey here, and no one has the right to tell me how far along, or at what point on their map, I should be at. I don’t even have the right to talk to myself that way. I’m also under somewhat less stress now that I’m no longer shouldering my family members through their own recoveries. I still have a lot of trouble communicating, particularly in person, but since being on antibiotics for two weeks, that has temporarily improved. In hindsight I wonder if all my temporary improvements in brain function were due to the antibiotics, or just this time.
Now that I’ve moved into the part of grieving where you can look back and see why you handled things the way you did, I realize that I didn’t do much honouring of the choices I made, even the unconscious ones. But I now have the opportunity to re-frame and integrate the experience, so I’m going to take it.
I honour the parts of myself that knew not make my drama everyone else’s responsibility. I honour the parts of myself that recognized I had to heal a little bit more first, or all my interactions would be coloured by distortions too thick to see through. I honour the parts of myself that knew I needed merciful stillness, not ruthless force, and I honour that which gave me permission to listen.
Whereas part of me assumed I’d be swallowed by deep regret over the time lost, friendships lost, and God knows what else once I finally got free, I very surprisingly feel gratitude.
I’m grateful for even having had the opportunity to take that “time off” to recover. I’m grateful for all the fights I didn’t provoke out of my own pain, had I forced myself to socialize. (Although, in the state I was in, I can’t imagine I’d have been able to find the words for any argument, honestly.) I’m grateful for me being able to realize I was the one who was overburdened with grief, and that it wasn’t anyone else’s job to revolve their life around me to fix that. (Not that I would even do that, but I recently witnessed someone who was blaming an entire community for their own emotional suffering, to the point that they thought the community had to change to make them happy. It did make me think, “Damn, I may have trouble being around certain groups, but at least I realize this is a personal issue, and that no one owes me an apology for living their own life the way they’re entitled to do.”)
I’m still terrified that the day will come when I’ll wake up and everything will have changed without me knowing why, that I won’t be able to tolerate anything again, or another severe trigger or actual lived trauma will set me back months or years. Just as I fear that the next bad headache will be the start of another relapse. Just as someone with depression fears that that one day of sadness will turn into six months of crushing despair. The difference now is.. well, probably something neurological, as the antibiotics have shown me. But I’m no longer allowing that fear to stop me from participating in whatever ways I can choose to, while I’m able.
Thanks to meditation, I have long since found the place in myself that knows It’s not the feelings, nor the thoughts, but the One who is experiencing those things. That place in me is always still, no matter what. To be simplistic, that’s what we call “the lion’s roar” in Buddhism, the ultimate truth within us that causes all other noise to fall away, like beings from all four directions bow away from the sound of the mighty lion’s roar claiming its territory.
From my current perspective, I have two options. I can listen to the survivor’s guilt, the irrational shame, and ruin my life (or at least this stretch of it). Definitely allowed, but not recommended, and clearly unbeneficial. Or, while I’m healing, I can remember that the end point of treatment will be to eventually FEEL that those thoughts are untrue, as well as know that. But the way I see it, there’s zero reason for me to wait until I FEEL those things aren’t true before I start living better. I know the chaos is full of lies, regardless. I know they’re lies now, and I’ll know they’re lies after recovery. Why do I have to wait for my ever-so-fickle feelings to catch up with what I already know, when I can just start living that way, right now? Yes, I’ll still have the thoughts, and they’ll still feel true for the time being, but I know they’re not, and I’d rather have the thoughts while I’m attempting to put my life back together, than have the thoughts while I’m holed up in my house for months.
I can’t give away my power to change the things I can. Because this is how I gave away my strength, by forgetting the immensity of power lying within all the tiny, monotonous choices that actually make or break your life. When I saw myself writing in my last post that I’d started to self-perpetuate my suffering, I knew I had to change that, or it was not going to end well. It also gave me a little hope, because I finally saw a piece of this that was within my control. If there was something I was doing to make this worse, then that also meant there was something I could do to make it better, simply by making a different choice. So I did, and here I am, three weeks later, continuing the momentum that sprung from me publishing that last post after six months of complete silence. That post took me three months. This one took me three weeks. That should say enough.
I don’t doubt I’ll still have “good days” and “bad days.” I’m trying to mitigate the chance of another “disappearance” a bit by taking Sundays offline, in hopes that, like so many other symptoms, if I just rest for a bit regardless of how I feel, I may be able to prevent whatever it is that builds up and make me cognitively shut down. I’m not sure if it’ll work, as I still have no idea what causes that, but I’m trying, damn it.
My latest tests results are equal parts disturbing and fantastic. Good news first?
My last homocysteine level before this one–which, in conjunction with a methylmalonic acid bloodtest, helps determines the rate of your folate metabolism, as well as suggest your risk of stroke and blood clots–was almost 30 (29.4). It’s supposed to be under 10.4 at the maximum, which means it was literally three times as high as it should ever be. Not great! Before my folate deficiency really kicked into gear, it was a lovely 7.2 umol/L. Well as of March, it’s all the way down to 15.8, which is basically only 5-points-above-normal. I’m almost cured of my folate deficiency!
Similarly, when I began treating these methylation problems, I could only tolerate a meager 100 mCg of methylfolate every 3 days. Now, I can tolerate a wonderful *500 mCg* every 3 days, and I’ll probably be able to increase that, soon. (As well as B12, of course, but I need more methylfolate than B12 at this point. I’ve found the hydroxo-cobalamin works much, much, much better than any other type, for me. So heads up: If you have the MTHFR C677TT homozygous polymorphisms, in addition to being homozygous–that is, having both/two copies–of COMT V158M, COMT H62H, *and* MAO-A R297R, like myself, you definitely want to take the hydroxocobalamin form of B12 and just save yourself the money and suffering of trying the other forms. Yes, it works even better than methyl-cobalamin.)
My cholesterol levels are also fantastic and I don’t know if I mentioned here yet, but I’m no longer pre-diabetic after a lot of dietery changes to help treat PCOS. No relapses, there, either!
Now the bad news, even though I don’t know how significant this is yet because I don’t see my neurologist until next week. First, I haven’t found the results of my intracranial pressure reading, or else they aren’t putting it on my online chart, so I don’t know what’s going on, there. I did however get the results of my spinal fluid analysis, and while my glucose is normal (I think?), my protein is normal (I think?), and my white blood cells appear normal (pretty sure?), there were two things that were present that were absolutely not supposed to be: Lots and lots of neutrophils, and blood. I know this could point to meningitis, but I’d like to think if that were the case, my doctor would have called, because that’s serious? So I hope there’s some other explanation. I refuse to Google anything and scare the hell out of myself over what could be going on. I’ll find out soon enough.
Also, while I know the results of my MRI must be in by now, they, too, have not yet posted to my online chart, so I don’t know the results. And honestly, with the wave of fear that overtook me while reading the CSF results, maybe that’s a good thing, in the event it does reveal something troubling.
The spinal tap itself went great, but the recovery was peculiar, and combined with missing my IVIG for two additional weeks, I was feeling beyond terrible. The most bizarre symptom was that I could not stand more than two minutes without severe shaking, all over; the kind of trembling that makes even your teeth chatter together. But I wasn’t cold! Luckily it resolved as soon as I lied back down, but that definitely wasn’t in the “this could happen afterwards” care sheet.
About a week after the lumbar puncture/several days after my eventual IVIG infusion, I had all the symptoms of fighting some type of infection, but without a fever. It was enough to make the room tilt and spin whenever I moved, have hot and cold sweats, cause ringing in my ears, and ultimately a severe headache toward the end, but no fever? Then I remembered, I rarely ever get a fever, no matter what is happening. So after several days of that hell, I said “screw it” and started my antibiotics. I immediately began feeling better, as quickly as the next day. I spoke with my immunologist and was given more antibiotics, and I moved my appointment up by two weeks so we can discuss why my immune system isn’t able to stop all these bizarre infections from happening these last six months, even with the IVIG. I’ll also ask about mold exposure, because that’s a real possibility that I haven’t forgotten about.
During all of that mess I spent most of my time tweeting to pass the hours, and in the process befriended some great people. I tend to feel like an outcast on Twitter the longer I’m on there, so we’ll see how long I last on there this time.
Until next time,