Resuming Antibiotics for Lyme-Induced Multiple Sclerosis (MS)

© a rainbow at night

In case you missed it buried within my last post: I learned I do have multiple sclerosis. My neurologist said the official diagnosis as of right now is “Clinically Isolated Syndrome,” which can present with or without optic neuritis. Mine presented with, but I recovered well from that attack and my ophthalmologist confirmed there is no permanent damage to my optic nerves.

CIS and MS are the same disease process, but since MS literally means “multiple scars,” CIS is what you call the first episode, because there are a few people who never go on to develop another attack. But that wasn’t actually my first attack, or even my first documented attack. Because I refused to get a spinal tap at the time, the last lesion was attributed to “post-infectious demyelination” or “atypical MS.” They wanted to test my cerebrospinal fluid for Lyme antibodies at the same time as MS markers, and I couldn’t afford to risk a false-negative Lyme test, which my insurance could’ve used to deny coverage for my antibiotics. I have personally watched someone have their treatment revoked until they did additional spinal taps to prove the bacteria were there, and there was no way I was going to chance that happening to me, as horrendously ill as I already was.

I’ve had about five neurologists since 2008 because they keep moving, so my current neurologist is under the impression this is only my first attack, hence the CIS model. Most doctors rigidly hold the belief that neuroborreliosis (Lyme disease that has spread to the brain and spinal cord) and multiple sclerosis are not related, so my “official” diagnosis will change depending on which doctor I see and their level of understanding about my history. At any given time it’s one or more of the following:

  • Post-infectious demyelination
  • Clinically isolated syndrome
  • Multiple sclerosis
  • Atypical MS
  • Relapse-remitting MS
  • Neuroborreliosis
  • Inflammatory disease of the central nervous system
  • Demyelinating disease of the spinal cord
  • Disease of nerves in arms, legs, hands, and feet (what even is this diagnosis?)
Image from “LYMEPOLICYWONK: Misdiagnosis of Lyme disease as MS” by Lorraine Johnson, JD, MBA, and the Chief Executive Officer of LymeDisease.org. Click for more information.

Without medication, I regularly and predictably relapse about twice a year, about 5 months apart. I think the reason for this is, when my immune system starts to run out of options against the accumulating spirochetes, I usually develop a bacterial infection and require a short course of antibiotics, and those antibiotics also beat the Lyme back into remission for about 4-5 months max. But then the bugs build back up again, and my immune system gets stressed again, and I can’t fight off another bacterial problem again, requiring another short course of antibiotics which tithe me over for another 5 months… And so on. Rinse and repeat for the past five years since stopping Lyme disease treatment in 2012.

It wasn’t always so much like clockwork, though, for many reasons but largely because since “the big relapse” in 2012, I’ve only been able to tolerate an infant’s dose of antibiotics for maybe two days before my brain felt like it would explode. That is, until this year’s miracle happened:

In March, I was able to complete a 10-day course of antibiotics with absolutely no problem, for the first time since The Big Relapse. So, coupled with my new diagnosis, I decided to brave Lyme disease treatment again.

Yes, you read that correctly. What I wrote here five years ago has finally come to fruition:

“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. … 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.”

My God, to be typing these words… There have been a lot of tears this past week. Over all my suffering, over all the life lessons learned, over all the years it looked like I would never make it here because of the constantly relapsing infections, over all the miracles that took place just in time, every time, so that I evaded further damage, and that I’ve actually healed from much of the damage already sustained… But mainly, over the fact that I am now here, having survived it all physically and mentally, and in a position where I am able to do something about it.

I made it.

And I’m starting treatment again.

We’re going to push it back into remission ON PURPOSE with an ACTUAL TREATMENT PLAN and an ACTUAL DOCTOR, not just skate by on whatever antibiotics I end up on, hoping it’ll be enough to fend off MS for as long as possible. The diagnosis is here! Time is up!


I’m doing pulsed antibiotic therapy this time–please research if you haven’t heard of it–because it turns out this is the best way to handle late stage Lyme disease that anyone knows as of yet. Continuous antibiotics may be necessary at first, but it will eventually come time for maintenance dosing instead of sustained eradication, because while chronic Lyme disease cannot be cured, it can be managed.

And please don’t come at me with your “it CAN be cured!” comments: People can be functionally cured, where the bacterial load is so low that it cannot cause problems, but there is no known way to permanently cure late stage Lyme disease, yet. It goes up there with all the other infections your body just learns to adapt to and live with, but which can cause problems again if conditions arise, and that is okay.

I wish someone had told me this when I first got diagnosed, but we truly are so much more advanced as a society in our knowledge of “chronic Lyme” than we were 11 years ago when I got infected. Back then, biofilms in Lyme were just a hypothesis, as was the idea that antibiotics were causing the bacteria to hide instead of die, both of which are proven facts, today.

It’s actually a comfort to know that even the strongest of bodies cannot keep these spirochetes under complete control, because it keeps in perspective that this is not just “my” body’s failure, or “your” body’s failure, but it’s not even a failure at all: It is the natural course of this disease to relapse and remit, and it is not your fault. There is nothing you were supposed to have done to keep it from doing whatever it’s doing, what it already did, or what it’s trying to do. I repeat, it is not your fault that you still have Lyme disease, and again, late stage Lyme disease CAN be managed. Alright.

Now, according to this 700 patient survey, only 55% of people with Lyme-Induced Multiple Sclerosis get better with antibiotics once the disease has advanced to this level. However, I’ve beaten the odds many times before, so I’m just going to do what I can do for as long as I can do it. This online research has many limitations but it does mirror the general consensus I’ve heard throughout the years.

Image from “LYMEPOLICYWONK: Do antibiotics help patients with Lyme disease who are also diagnosed with MS?” by Lorraine Johnson, JD, MBA, and the Chief Executive Officer of LymeDisease.org. Click for more information.

The reason for these hit-or-miss success levels is believed to be because killing the bacteria when they have already initiated an attack on your nervous system has the potential to further advance the disease instead of abating it, because when the bacteria die they cause an inflammatory reaction. Adding further inflammation, in the form of your immune system going in to clean up dead bugs, to an area that is already inflamed because the immune system is already active there, will make things temporarily worse. The $64,000 question is whether the brain will recover or is there so much infection that this additional inflammation caused by the dying bacteria will be just as bad if not worse than the inflammation caused by just letting the disease take its course.

People with tapeworms in their brain face a similar dilemma: Because a dead worm in your brain could trigger such a massive immune response to clean it up, many must simply live with the parasite latent in their brain instead of attempting to kill it, which could actually turn around and kill them, too. We need to realign our focus with living a good life, not becoming “bug free.” They are not mutually exclusive.

I couldn’t pulse antibiotics five years ago because treating bartonella was the priority, and you cannot do pulse therapy with bartonella bacteria present. They mutate far too quickly in their attempt to survive, and become resistant to the antibiotics used. Some antibiotics like Rifampin can lose their efficacy after just one break in treatment, rendering it permanently ineffective against the strains present. So, long story short, I needed continuous antibiotics for bartonella for about two years, with lots of complications, it still relapsed, and only starting IVIG two years later saved me. But before all the latter happened, I made it about six months on continuous Lyme-specific antibiotics–the same ones I’m on now–before I hit the infamous treatment wall and became too ill to tolerate absolutely anything. I.e. “The Big Relapse.”

(I feel like I repeat myself a lot here, but I know most people don’t have the time or energy to go back and read how I got here or why my treatment is taking/has taken this route. All that is available, though, if you’re interested–there’s a directory of categories and tags/content at the bottom of this site.)

We’ve no way of knowing how I’ll respond to things this time, but just based on how I responded to mere Amoxicillin at the beginning of this year, I think I stand a chance to respond favorably. I’m running out of time to do something here, regardless. According to my last MRI, there’s a potential “something” in the front part of my brain that they’re going to “watch.” I just did two spinal MRIs and should find out the results this week.

One amazing thing I learned, though–again, only by getting a copy of my MRI results–is that I have successfully REmyelinated! The biggest brain lesion from my first Lyme/MS attack is fully healed!! About a year or two ago, I suddenly realized I could walk in the dark again without falling over, which I hadn’t been able to do since my hospitalization around 2010/2011. I assumed my brain had found some way around this damage by using its innate plasticity (i.e. maybe it formed some new pathways to circumvent the lesion) but no! Even better! It HEALED!

I am so proud of my body and its resilience. It’s things like this that inspire and remind me that it’s not too late to heal, and that my body still prioritizes towards homeostasis and wellness.

I’ve finished my first pulse, and I already feel so much clearer in my head it’s ridiculous. I owe this entire post to those antibiotics. In fact the last several blog posts I published before this one were antibiotic-induced (haha), where I hadn’t been able to finish anything since they wore off. The only thing I managed to type for this post before starting treatment last Thursday was one paragraph that took me an hour and a half, that absolutely exhausted me and ultimately made such little sense I had to delete it altogether, anyway. But after antibiotics? I typed the entire draft of this post you’re reading, in one day. Another day was spent editing, and today I finished polishing it up to be scheduled for tomorrow morning. But go ahead and tell us, IDSA, how antibiotics don’t do anything for us, will you?

Experiencing this phenomena again essentially confirms to me (1) how I was ever able to maintain this blog all those years ago, and (2) why I steadily and progressively lost the ability to write the longer I went without antibiotics, eventually getting to the point where I could only post when I’d taken an antibiotic or two, or when I’d scraped together one paragraph per month until I had something legible:

All I ever needed was treatment for this disease.

Damnit.

Until next time,

Kit

Advertisements

Facing My Worst Fears On Social Media: Am I Really So Terrible?

“You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.” ― Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life

Short answer: No. No I’m not.

Reasons I almost didn’t write this:

Because of a pathological and unwanted sense of obligation to protect others’ public image, especially if it involved abusive and/or shameful behaviour, even more so if it was directed specifically at me. Because of decades of being made to feel that it was never their behaviour that was shameful but rather my speaking about it that was the problem. Because of decades of spiritual abuse that, also, mostly condemned those who spoke about wrongdoings instead of the wrong behaviours themselves. Because I was programmed to have emotional loyalty to people no matter how they acted or treated me. Because old habits die hard.

Reasons I absolutely AM writing this:

Because the very act of publishing this is an act of healing. Because the God I actually believe in supports those who speak the truth, not accuses them of being “unspiritual” if their truths make others uncomfortable. And because I can assure myself that no names or identifying characteristics will be mentioned, nor are they even remotely likely to ever read this.

So here’s something I’m actually excited to write about… Last month, or maybe the month before, I’m not sure but right before I returned to social media because I had healed enough to start responding to messages and e-mails once again… Some time ago, I faced my very worst fears in social media and relationships:

Someone not only misunderstood me, but thought the very worst of me, used my benign actions to justify their irrational belief that I was of ‘bad character,’ insinuated that I was being selfish with my time, and looked at things I’d written or shared on social media with an authentic energy and interpreted it instead as directly passive aggressive or malicious against them. Then they said what they thought they needed to say (I’m being generous, here), and blocked me everywhere, before getting to see the physical proof that they were actually 10000% wrong in their assumptions. Not a single conversation about what had been bothering them. Just accusation, character assassination, gone.

They took some of my worst fears, (1) that someone would use my words against me, (2) that I should never speak because people will just misinterpret it to mean something completely different and probably malevolent, (3) that someone would stalk things I did or said on social media to concoct a narrative in which they assume the worst of me, (4) that someone would guilt-trip me over the time I needed for self-care and (5) respond to it with accusations of selfishness and/or view it as an ill-conceived personal attack on them, and (6) that any or all of it would be used to justify abuse, character assassination, and/or emotional abandonment, and rolled it alllll into one. big. grand. gesture.

And guess what. I immediately recognized that it was completely unjustified.

I refused to accept blame for things I hadn’t done, because I knew none of it was true.

I didn’t go into hours, weeks, or months of self-abuse thinking I possibly deserved any of it.

And I survived.

Not only did I survive, but I even assertively stood up for myself (before they bailed, at least).

And, as a bonus, I didn’t move to contempt. Hurt over being thought of in such a way by someone I’d started to trust, yes; anger at being mistreated (a good sign for someone who’d always been punished for expressing anger), yes; disappointment and confusion, yes. But not contempt, not hatred, not a sudden need for self-protection by going on the offense, and no thoughts of “what a terrible person you are for doing all this.” They’re not. I know why they did what they did even if they don’t understand it, themselves. I’ve been a version of them in my past, believe it or not, when I didn’t know the true depths of my mental illness. And because I have compassion for the situations in my life that caused me to behave irrationally with others, I can have compassion for the situations in their life which caused them to do this. (Plus I lived with an infection for 7 years that reliably turned my brain chemistry upside down every 5-6 days. But anyway.)

As Elizabeth Gilbert wrote in Big Magic, about a woman who’d read her book and imagined a narrative within it that wasn’t actually written: “Their reaction doesn’t belong to you.” I’m only responsible for what I put out, not how it passes through others’ personal filters, for better or worse. I know now that I don’t have to allow those “worst fears” to have power over me anymore, because I know I will not only survive should it happen again, but that I have healed so much in at least this area, that I won’t be sent into a spiral of self-loathing, automatically assuming I deserved it. I can’t even explain the pit “old me” would’ve had to crawl out of in the past, the way it would’ve stirred up abandonment depression and sincere beliefs of “maybe I am everything they think.”

I’m making tremendous progress this year.

This isn’t even counting what happened at the beginning of the year, when I warned people about someone who had copied and posted my work but changed the words around to reflect their own story and history. Instead of any “thanks for letting us know,” and despite me sending them the link to my piece, I was met mostly with people incredulously claiming it wasn’t mine, and how dare I say such things. Ha! So part of my path this year seems to be learning to not be affected by blame or praise. But especially the blame.

“How equanimous are you when people express their views of liking or not liking what you do? Do you take it personally or understand they are simply expressing their own bias? Does praise or blame disturb your balance?”¹ “As the Buddha said, pleasure and pain, gain and loss, praise and blame, fame and disrepute constantly arise and pass away, beyond our control.” He said, “There is always blame in this world. If you say too much, some people will blame you. If you say a little bit, some people will blame you. If you say nothing at all, some people will blame you.”²

I think I’m doing pretty good so far. Don’t you think?

On second thought, don’t respond to that.


I cannot live my life letting fear of what someone might misinterpret decide what I do or don’t do, what I say or don’t say, what I share or don’t share. I’ve lived most of my life walking on eggshells for everyone else, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to spend the remainder of my life doing it, too.

Even now as I write and edit, I feel fear over what others will think about this. Maybe that won’t ever go away. But it doesn’t have to: I’m going to write, speak, share, and live, regardless.

I’m happy about all the progress I’ve made, even if it took something painful to help me realize it.


Takeaways for others, I hope:

  • I didn’t include this part of things, but make sure you’re not accusing someone of something that may actually be partly or entirely due to a technological glitch.
  • Don’t take your thoughts so seriously. Some meditation practices help us contemplate situations from the perspective of, “Do I really know this is what’s happening?” Much of the time, we truly don’t. This can help us find that place of spaciousness from which we can choose to respond instead of react out of past hurts or abuse.
  • If you have mental illness, try to remember your sick brain may colour your perspective of what’s going on. Although not everyone has the luxury of being able to find that spaciousness, not even myself, at all times; the key word is “try.”
  • Likewise, remember if someone has a disease affecting their brain, there’s very little chance it won’t also affect their thoughts, as well as the way they process information. Have compassion.

Above all, remember everyone is doing the best they can with what they have to work with, and for goodness sake, try to think the best of each other.

"To love somebody is to let them be who they are and do what they have to do."

a rainbow at night


1. Focused and Fearless: A Meditator’s Guide to States of Deep Joy, Calm, and Clarity, by Shaila Catherine, 2002
2. http://www.dharmanet.org/samples/bv4a.htm

Pill Fatigue or Pill Failure?

It feels like I’m talking about someone else’s life, sometimes, when I go to write about this.

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% meaning 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 I contacted Jodi about this and she switched the chart around, so with the new version, I’m at 8/10 severity level:

“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. (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 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 actually 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

Attention: I’m not suicidal.

My First Real Post in Months: “Something” Has Happened

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 “real” entry… Anyway.

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

 

After a necessary car ride (read as: hurricane 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 they suppress the immune system… But I’ve been off and on Nasonex (an inhaled corticosteroid for sinus inflammation; 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 had 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 due whatsoever, 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 it was bad. Bad bad. The aura began with an awful prodrome of Alice in Wonderland Syndrome on Friday (Sept 28th) and the Migraine began two days later on Sunday (Sept 30th). Another two days later it was gone, but I have been sicker than sick ever since.

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 a dose of Vicodin. The “headache phase” (because that Migraine went on to irritate every surrounding nerve) has died down for the most part, but now I’m facing exhaustion, flu-like sickness, numbness in my right 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 functioning in the mean time.

So 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

Alright, I caved.

I couldn’t take it anymore and started my Zoloft…even though it interacts with two things I take. I opted to just take it as far away from those as possible, and since I’m only on 12.5mg, it couldn’t be that bad, right?

Best decision I ever made.

And something interesting to share about my fatigue: It’s incredibly reduced! My wonky brain chemistry must have been contributing heavily to it, because after about five days I noticed I had a lot more energy. Antidepressants are actually recommended for “chronic fatigue,” and now I understand why! I thought fatigue was only a symptom of depression-related brain chemistry, but it would seem it’s just a symptom of off-kilter serotonin levels in general. I’m pretty sure I learned that in my degree somewhere, but had forgotten.

My OCD is a lot better. The incessant thoughts are easing, and I no longer need to keep hand lotion around from my constant soap use.

I take Flagyl Thursday thru Sunday, and usually by Saturday I am exhausted. This Saturday? I exercised. And by exercise I mean my usual stretching routine that I used to do for Fibromyalgia treatment. I got through it all! And the next day I stretched again, but at a reduced level. Today I took a break from it. I’ll see how I feel tomorrow. But I’m in shock that I was able to do that! It’s a very good sign. I’m elated that after five months in Lyme/Mycoplasma treatment, I am starting to get back to things I used to be able to do. I’ve been incredibly blessed to have my family’s support, emotionally and financially, but all I want is to be able to take care of myself again. At the rate I’m going, I think that will happen.

Neurologically, I’ve had a lot more numbness in my limbs. This is healing, right? I get the “hot foot” sensations daily, my feet itch like mad (neuropathy), and.. I remember an instance last week where a sharp, stabbing sensation went through my right leg to the bottom of my foot, and my leg immediately went numb. When the neuropathy was progressing, things got worse, and in new places; this is more akin to old problems flaring up with their last dying effort, so again, here’s hoping this is part of the healing process.

Headache wise, I’ve had what acts like a tension headache for about four days, now. It makes my teeth hurt. I say “acts like” because I never get tension headaches, and I’m not entirely sure if this is one, but based upon descriptions I’ve read… Then again I’ve also heard people describe Lyme headaches like this, so who knows. It could even be the Zoloft or it may be as simple as ibuprofen withdrawal after taking it for several months. Whatever the cause, hopefully it’ll go away, soon. It’s the least of my concerns!

a rainbow at night

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. This might sound like baseless self-diagnosis but this will make sense as I’ll discuss further 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 your own brain, instead. I was practically a walking target to get myalgic encephalomyelitis in the future, wasn’t I? :\


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.

[ETA 2017: It’s been 5 years since this post and Mycoplasma pneumoniae has now been recognized to be a determining factor in the diagnosis of PANS, which all these additional years of disease and severe psychiatric relapse have unequivocally proven me to have.]

“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
Updated May 2017 to add more helpful links and confirm diagnosis

Relevant Links:

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

On Livers and Lyme and Dystonia…and Another Antibiotic Break

On Thursday, the 5th of April, I upped the minocycline to 200mg a day. For the next few days I only noticed a greater need for sleep. Since starting the minocycline in general, I had a greater need for lortab/vicodin (at least once a day) to deal with the head and neck pain (read as: severe), so that also got worse temporarily before tapering off into less-severe pain.

Mostly because of this, my sinuses were really bothering me (hydrocodone causes a release of histamine, and when you stop it, then you can get a rebound release of it), so I had to take Nasonex for several days–it helped so much, and by days Three and Four of being on it, I was outside taking pictures of flowers!! I figure it might have been helping subdue some of the herxing because of its immunosuppressive tendencies. After day Four I was able to stop that, too, since my sinuses had returned to normal.

Then on the 9th I got a fax from my doctor saying my liver enzymes were very elevated. This, after them being perfectly normal two weeks earlier, and me still taking milk thistle three times a day!! I was upset, but I had to stop all antibiotics again.

I don’t know if it was from not taking my antibiotics beginning that morning when I got the fax, or rebound inflammation from stopping the Nasonex, but I felt absolutely horrid starting that day, and did every day after/have every day since. We’re talking complete flu-feeling and just.. awful. It was the metaphorical equivalent of hitting a bear over the head once, and then standing there staring at it. Lyme is a very, very angry bear. To further my physical suffering, a few days later my Lyme flare up began! D:

And then an old Lyme-related friend came to visit me: Dystonia.

(I tried to kick it out–you must mean the house down the street; no Kit, here!–but, that didn’t work.)

And not just dystonia, but that special brand of dystonia with parkinsonism thrown in there that makes me unable to walk, that makes everything on my left side either fail and freeze, or flail and dance. (Why does Lyme like the left side so much? No one can figure it out, not even the doctors.) It began on the 14th, when I got out of bed, took two steps, and my left leg decided it wanted nothing to do with this “walking” business. Luckily, there are wheelchairs. I still had a lot of movement problems even wheeling about the house, but standing up makes it so much worse in general, even if I’m not trying to walk. It got worse on the 15th and 16th…

I wish I could adequately describe what this type of movement disorder is like. A dear friend of mine in Pennsylvania with Lyme disease has the exact same problems I do (also hypertonia, also brain lesions). A typical “episode” of this happening might start with me attempting to walk. A varying amount of time passes before I slow dramatically and then my left leg will start to drag. If I stand in one place it often curls inward. If I try to walk it is essentially frozen, or moves so little that I might end up walking on the tips of my toes to compensate. Something around my hip/thigh happens and my leg jerks upward, causing me to simultaneously fall forward, often twisting my neck to one side at the same time “for some reason.” I don’t always have to be walking for this to occur. I know low oxygen (or at least low oxygen ratio) makes this worse, because supplemental oxygen always helped in the past.

“A major principle of body movement is that all muscles have an opposing muscle. Movement is possible not just because one muscle becomes more active, but because the opposing muscle relaxes. …Rigidity comes about when, in response to signals from the brain, the delicate balance of opposing muscles is disturbed. The muscles remain constantly tensed and contracted so that the person aches or feels stiff or weak.”

Other times it involves my face and neck–like an episode of Bell’s Palsy that isn’t so much the nerves (I don’t think, at least) as it is the muscles contracting, and causing issues like facial grimacing, an inability to open my left eye all the way (lots of times I cannot look upwards, which is truly disturbing–I don’t think this is dystonia but I wanted to mention it anyway), and my tongue might tremor, etc.

This time, much to my dismay, my arms were involved, interferring with my typing. :( It wasn’t the M.E., and it wasn’t the neuropathy that’s started to invade my arms causing the weakness, but something different. (It’s probably impossible for me to put the difference into words, but I know what that feels like.) They were doing the same thing my legs did–gradually getting slower and slower and it was as if the nerves were failing to send adequate signals, where in my head I was sending them the action I wanted them to perform but everything was going very..very…..slow……… :| (But not the paralysis and takes-five-days-to-recover like the M.E. muscle failure; this is far more neurological.)

And then the 17th happened. Or rather, the night of the 16th, when I tried to sleep. I spent all night waking up every hour going “omg I’m going to vomit” and “omg why is everything moving” and then when I woke up once at 7am, the back of my head was killing me (figure of speech, of course). And thus began the cycle of the next five days. But at least after about the 18th, the dystonia and parkinsonism got better and I could walk again. Oh, the things I had happen every morning… One morning was like I described above; for another, it was all I could do just to roll onto my back and take medicine; for another there was gastrointestinal nerve problems that immobilized me in pain; then to add insult to injury, I woke up dehydrated, because I usually do during Lyme flares. It has been an incredibly difficult couple of weeks!

What got me through it was knowing that it would pass.

And it did.

The 22nd I felt good enough to take a ride to the city, with the help of adequate medication for pain and inflammation. Right now I’m waiting for a supplement to arrive (tomorrow), so I can resume antibiotics.

I can’t thank God enough for such an absolutely amazing doctor to get me through all of this. Especially after so many years of people who didn’t know what they were doing, no idea how to help me, or just passing me around from doctor to doctor. (From primary to cardiologoist to neurologist to immunologist to infectious disease specialist to another cardiologist to another neurologist to a movement disorder specialist to…) I feel safe in God’s hands and my LLMD’s experience to get me better. He called and told me this herb collection to order for my liver, called Liver Chi. He says he has patients with Lyme-induced MS who are on triple IV antibiotics, their liver enzymes inevitably going high, but who can’t stop treatment for fear of their disease progressing. He thinks I am in that group with the rate that my symptoms progress the moment I stop antibiotics. And if this supplement (a mix of chinese herbs) has been able to bring theirs back down to normal, on all of those antibiotics, I’m sure it can help me get back in treatment! So he said to take a two-week break (which I have), and.. essentially, don’t wait, get the herbs, and resume treatment whenever I got them. And of course keep checking my enzymes.


I’ve been indulging my creativity to help me cope, so here are a few pieces:

a rainbow at night


PostScript: Things I want to add into this post but have no idea how:
  • Ibuprofen always helps. Always.
  • My PCP says I should tell my cardiologist about the fact that I feel like I’m going to pass out when I take a deep breath–I actually had to lie on the examining table this time, which is new. My first guess is my usual lack of my heart rate variability and the fact that it’s supposed to vary when you inhale deeply, but mine often doesn’t… But that’s autonomic neuropathy for you.

Mini-Update on Treating with Flagyl (and a painting)

Let’s see if I can suppress my urge to ramble and post the basics of what’s been happening. I shouldn’t need to go into too much detail because there’s not much more than this that I’ll need to know for future reference.

My insurance covered Tindamax up until January 2012…so they denied me coverage for it. Twice. I didn’t want to stir up trouble or questions, so I told my LLMD not to worry about appealing it again. I instead started on Flagyl. No big deal, right? I’ll just be on a less-effective, more toxic medication, for longer, because of no Tindamax. Regardless, it’s what I have to work with, now! The first week’s pulse brought out a burst of my neuropathy after each dosage, and worse neurological symptoms in general, such as a terrible ptosis of my left eye (it was the worst I’d ever seen it). After that, everything stopped, including my previous symptom progression, and now I actually feel worse on the days I’m not on it…! (This is the last thing I’d expect to feel while on Flagyl!!) But speaking of which…

My routine liver panel has revealed my enzymes are high. Now, they’re just a few points above the normal range. But when my usual, pre-antibiotic numbers (or pre-Bactrim, I should say, since that’s what made them start rising) are in the high teens, and now they’re in high forties and fifties, that’s triple what is normal for me. My LLMD is on vacation right now (which he really does deserve, but goodness, out of all times for me to need him!) so I can only imagine what he’d tell me to do. Which is take a two week break and get the enzymes within normal range before continuing. An LLNP online thought it’d also be a good idea to break. So I upped my Milk Thistle to three times a day and stopped everything but my vitamins, and hopefully within 2-3 weeks I’ll be able to start this Minocycline in concurrence with Flagyl.

My left sided twitching has been flaring the past week. It hasn’t gotten to full-blown-dystonia level, yet. I had my “three weeks of headaches” end, then a 4-5 day flare up with the Lyme flare, and I’ve since been fine, with no headachess for about a week. I can’t think of any other remarkable symptom stuff… Oh! But my heart functioning is the same as last time, says my echocardiogram from last week. :)

And last, but not least, my site (if you haven’t noticed) is now arainbowatnight.com! :D

  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

And now, costochondritis.

I’m still coughing, but it’s been worse the past day or two. I’m in Lyme flare mode, and I usually cough more during it, so there’s that. (Also some increased arrhythmia and leg weakness–again, typical. Probably doesn’t help that I have to recover from those two doctor visits, but oh well!) However my chest hurts down the center when I cough, now. I was thinking it was probably just sore from me coughing for weeks, but since it hurts when I press on it, I think I’ve gotten another bout of costochondritis. I haven’t had this in years. But hey, it’s just another joint, right? Makes sense I guess…

The joint pain I mentioned last post continued to travel over the next few days. It stayed in my shoulders and feet for another day, then went to my hands and my hips. It then moved to my fingers and returned to my knees. It remains in my right shoulder and my knees still ache, while the other locations come and go. Luckily I haven’t had any other “wake up in severe pain” episodes!

That’s all the update I have for now. :)

a rainbow at night

Joint pain!!!

Wow! So I started getting joint pain about two days ago, I think. At first it was very mild, then yesterday it kicked it up a notch.

When I first started Doxy in 2009, I had a severe bout of joint pain that lasted two days, and I think the same thing happend with Rifampin, so I’m HOPING this is just a herx reaction from the Bactrim and not the Lyme trying to invade my joints while it has the chance. It did this a few random night while at the hotel, as well, now that I recall…

It feels exactly–exactly–like when I was in university, two months after sustaining the tick bite, and woke up with so much pain in my left knee I could not move it. It feels like someone is trying to snap my knees in half, and not like anything I’ve ever felt; not even the tendon pain from when I had fibromyalgia equates to this. Last night it was both knees, and my right elbow. I thought I might start hyperventilating from the pain when I (perhaps stupidly) tried to roll over…! Oh my goodness!

When I awoke this morning, it was completely gone. Or at least I thought it was… Yesterday I awoke with knee pain and elbow pain, then today, upon moving around, found out it just traveled, so now it’s in my feet and my shoulders, instead. Still, it only gets to “feels like it’s breaking” level when I sleep.

I took a nap this afternoon–something that always makes me feel worse–and when I awoke, it was trying to happen again. I could feel the inflammation and warmth; I took ibuprofen and it’s tolerable, now.

Oh Lyme, you are a funny spirochete… Get out!

I never get joint pain. In having this blog for a year now, I still don’t have a tag for it! Now I do.

I have the deepest sympathy for those who deal with this symptom every day–I think I’d rather have one of my killer headaches!

ETA: I just had to come back and add this tidbit from Lyme-Symptoms.com’s Comparison Chart of Lyme Disease and Co-infections Symptoms:

“Being awakened by sudden severe arthritic pains throughout entire body that is excruciating, dramatic, and feels like you are on deaths door and most is gone by the next morning.”

Yyyyyep!

a rainbow at night

 

I think I’ve finally hit “the moment” in my treatment.

First: Yes, I have heard the news about the Whittemore Peterson Institute, but I don’t want to dampen my good news with such a topic, though it troubles me greatly. I will say, however, that I stand by Dr. Mikovits and anxiously await her new endeavors.

Secondly, it’s so.. conflicting, for me to write of my own good news in the wake of so many myalgic encephalomyelitis deaths. We’ve had five in just over a month? Maybe it’s the result of me being more in the community that I hear about it more? I’m not sure. :( But the death rate of 1 in 20 is beginning to sound like a myth, at this point.

Such is the reason why we cannot afford these petty arguments amongst the best researchers and institutions that we have on our side.

But my main reason to write is that…

I AM FEELING SO MUCH BETTER.

I expected things to have a good spell and then back down, as is common for us “Lymies,” but nope! The Bactrim is treating me very well. I suspected it might, because it’s in the sulfa class and I respond well to those, for whatever reason, but this is truly remarkable. He wanted me on Bactrim DS (double strength), but as is usual for me, I could only tolerate the normal dose; taking one DS tablet put me in a state of being unable to move for four hours. Since when do antibiotic cause such drowsiness???

The herxing is mainly dizziness (which seems standard with any antibiotic I start), and I get anxiety after my night Rifampin dose like I used to a while back–it’s not severe enough to cause me to not take any of my medication, though. The seeming-optic-neuritis-thing went away after about a week, thankfully. I’ve been coughing  a lot more than usual, which is slightly troubling, and my eye twitches are happening more frequently? My mid-week flares (that are still falling from Tuesday-Thursday) are still present (headache, fatigue, dizziness, blood pressure problems, shin pain, mild fever) but not as severe, either! I had a light dotted rash on my feet the other day, but it was very faint. And the cardiac complications I’ve mentioned in previous posts, are now gone! Was it just a herx from whatever bacteria had caused it to worsen? Whatever it was, it seems I’ve recovered from it, but I see my cardiologist on Friday for my echo, and on Thursday I get my bloodwork done to check my immune system, kidney, and liver function.

 

I’m definitely not getting worse, so I’m inclined to believe the antibiotics have been/are fighting whatever new infection I got from those new fleas! Yay!

The other day I went to Walmart, with no sunglasses, and no earplugs, and I walked on my own, with no cane nor wheelchair nor mobility scooter to help me. All right, I leaned on the shopping cart, but who doesn’t? It was a huge moment, and it shows me where I will be headed once we kill the rest of these critters. I haven’t been able to stand up and shop for myself in over a year… And there I was, walking and standing in a supermarket for twenty minutes! That is huge!

Generally speaking (evening out the good days with bad days), if I were to rank myself on the ability scale now, I would say I am at 40% physical ability, 45% cognitive ability, and 50% symptom severity. Since my last checkpoint in May, that’s twice as good physically, 10% better cognitively, and 22% better symptom-wise! Also, if you look at the list I made then, I’ve gotten goals 1 and 2 out of the way, I’m working on doing 3 right now, and hopefully will be getting to 4-5 soon!

I’ll probably post next with my lab and echo results, etc., and who knows, maybe even more good news. To my dear readers, remember to be gentle with yourself; your body is doing the very best job it knows how.

a rainbow at night

Is this some form of optic neuritis? Also, lots of improvements!

My eyes hurt. My eyes hurt a lot, behind the sockets, but mostly when I move them… Well, try to move them, because I really can’t due to the pain, and specifically, it’s just my right eye. I’m also terribly photosensitive but that should be a given, right? (Sunglasses are your friend. So is the screen brightness adjustor on your computer.) I haven’t had this happened in months; it used to occur minorly as a bartonella symptom. But I don’t know WHAT this is, because it’s never been this severe nor lasted as long. It only responds to high doses of ibuprofen–not even entire Vicodin pills (I only ever need half at a time) give me any relief. This is the third day of it, and it’s starting to finally ease up. Yesterday the front of my skull also hurt, and now I have some type of headache in my neck, but that might be unrelated since the middle of the week is approaching (middle-week blues!). I’m very glad to be switching antibiotics!

I don’t get to say this often, so let me mention: Besides the at-times-excruciating eye pain, I have felt fabulous. We are finally in our new home and instead of being housebound I have been walking unassisted and moving boxes, and.. ha! Probably overdoing it a little, but I’m willing to pay the consequences this time. The only difference is I’m only on Rifampin because I had to stop the Zithro; unfortunately you can’t just take Rifampin because it creates bacteria resistance. This has only been for two days, to let the azithromycin clear out of my system because I had to start Bactrim today, and I didn’t want them to mess with my QT interval.

After some rescheduling confusion, I spoke with my LLMD this past Wednesday. Apparently his nurses had told him my results, and sent them to me, but he never got to look at them! This happened at his first office, too, when his staff said my Mycoplasma pneumoniae was negative and it wasn’t. (He needs new nurses.) But anyway! He confirmed that my bartonella result is positive. We’re not sure about the ehrlichiosis, as far a what my results showed before I got all the new flea bites; I get the idea he’s not too used to dealing with it though he knows that fleas are a big transmitter and how to treat it. He’s not certain what’s causing my flare-up every seven days, but suspects bartonella. He also said bartonella can cause the spots on my feet (I hope “that’s all” it is), and he’s not too concerned with retesting me because of me already being on the right treatments. I’m fine with that. He was unsure of whether it was my old infection was flaring, or the result of something I caught via those new fleas, but the conversation mainly became, what can we do to kill it now that it’s showing itself?

First I was going to start Cipro. But I have at least four contraindications: severe muscle weakness similar to myasthenia gravis (and I’m not completely certain I don’t have that, not until I get tested a second time this November to be sure), CNS lesions, chronically low or borderline potassium, and arrhythmia related to QT internal. So instead, we’re putting the Lyme treatment on hold for a few months and targetting the bartonella on its own, with Bactrim, to hopefully kick it out completely. So we’re dropping the Zithro, then in addition to the Rifampin I’ll also be on Bactrim. I took my first dose tonight and I feel okay, save the normal things. I hope I don’t herx too bad! The Lyme shouldn’t have enough time (just three replication cycles) to gain any momentum before I start something to start killing that, in January. That will be one year of bartonella treatment! From there I can hopefully just be on some type of maintenance dose?

Also, a current milestone is that this is the longest consecutive time I’ve stayed out of a hospital in three years! It’s been nine months since I last went! There were some close calls, especially two months ago, but I made it through and I’m setting a new record. ;)

AND EVEN MORE GOOD NEWS. I am now almost at the healthy weight I was before these infections relapsed roughly two years ago. I have gained seven more pounds, and have three more to go! This is not only great, but security, because if I ever do end up severely ill and lose weight, it won’t automatically be dangerous.

I think if the Bactrim dosen’t herx me too severely, I should be able to drive within another month. But we’ll see. ;D

Well, that’s all for now. I’m going to the theatre tomorrow!

a rainbow at night

Random Health Development: Possible Re-infection?

Things are going well with crushed house/new house endeavor. So many miracles have occurred; I wish I could share them all with my few but dedicated readers, but this is, at its heart, my health blog, and so health rambles it shall be. I have some things to report that might be crucial to remember later on…

On the 3rd, while being outside with the EMS services and firefighters, I acquired innumerable fleabites. I happened to be on an antibiotic break because, in the days prior, I began to experience a severe worsening of my symptoms. A potentially-hospitalization-worthy worsening, accompanied by hives and the like: i.e., all the warning signs things were about to take a dark turn. The one-day-break I have to take about once a month didn’t work, so I began a week break, which did help a LOT. (During it, I was able to feel how much the antibiotics have helped me, and I look forward to the day when I can be on a maintenance dose that will allow me to enjoy that improvement.)

Several days after getting the flea bites, I woke up with a spotted rash all over my feet, just like the one I’d gotten when I acquired my first set of flea-borne infections in 2008 (that relapsed and remitted for the next two years). I also noticed the muscles in my legs hurt a lot. I immediately restarted the Zithro, and the next day, the Rifampin. The next day the pain disappeared, and within a few more days the rash began to as well, which is typical even if I’m not on antibiotics (at least from my previous experience with this rash). This is evidence of some infection, most likely rickettsial due to the nature of the spots, which includes possible ehrlichiosis. I assumed since I very promptly started treatment, with the best antibiotics possible, I wouldn’t require much more… (This, in addition to my several-year-old infection flaring up with spots on my legs and ankles right before all this happened, but I have high doubts to the new spots just being a flare exacerbated by pausing antibiotics–NONE of my other abx breaks have elicited such a reaction, and with the flea bites happening and all… Oh, right, I don’t think I even got to mention here that I’d been having spots on my ankles, did I? Well, I was, for about a month until it cumulated in the “I have to stop antibiotics or else” scenario.)

Today I have had a few spontaneous bouts of severe dizziness and for several hours today I also had a severe, throbbing headache in the back of my skull and my neck. These are both intermittent. I’m unsure if it’s to do with any new infection or the beginning-of-the-month flare up that I’m due for, but what made me get mildly concerned, is last night I looked on my stomach and noticed I have a macular rash. It’s mild, but… One of the things that has ruled out a lot of potential infections from those fleas is that I don’t have a macular rash on my torso. Or at least, I didn’t. Now it seems I do, which opens up a lot more possibilities to whatever I contracted.

Is it just the natural course of the infection that’s soon to disappear completely since I’m on the appropriate antibiotics? Is it a flare up of my bartonella quintana, which causes a macular rash on the torso? (I have had a lot of shin pain, actually, and my legs are weaker than usual, but I’m thrilled to report my neurological manifestations are less, at least for now–no more insanity/moodswings every five days!) Or did I, heaven forbid, contract B. quintana yet again from the fleas? Or are these symptoms just flaring because my immune system is distracted, fighting off whatever new bug I caught on the 3rd? (I’ve also had more of those “bumps” on my hands and fingers, which I’m unsure of their reason, but I’ve realized over the past year they appear as part of my flares.)

Time will tell. But I thought it fairly significant, and I wanted to jot it down while I had the opportunity. I’ll tag this post later.

a rainbow at night

Long overdue update, oops!

I want to say to my future self, when I look back at my health blog and notice this huge gap of no symptom charting: I AM SO SORRY. But I will do my best to recap the most important parts!

The last real post I made was of my new accomplishment of cooking myself breakfast, and taking a bath in the middle of the day. While I haven’t been cooking completely on my own, I have been helping with all my meal preparations. I have also taken a few half-baths during the day (and by that I mean, I often split it up into parts, since a full bath is too much expensure at once).

When I made that post, I made note to mention my improvement was mostly medication-induced, as I was nursing a headache… Little did I know I was in the beginnings of another one of those “two weeks of headaches” spells. It was exhausting having to be so medicated just to be able to tolerate the pain, but I had my last one a week ago, and haven’t had one since. There were all sorts of them! Some felt like slight migraines but they weren’t, it was just.. nerve irritation, much like what was happening to me before I ended up in the hospital in February, with all sorts of cranial nerve involvement.

On July 2nd (Saturday), I made a very brief private entry describring having a bad day:

Today has been a bad day. i’ve had momens where I thought I might just pass out while laying down. It started yesterday I guess, when I had one of those “episodes” …

During the two-week-headache-spell I had a lot of nerve inflammation. All neuropathies were flaring terribly, and I even had one “episode” so bad that I once again started shaking, which also hadn’t happened since back in February. I lived off of ibuprofen. It was a truly rough two weeks, which should explain my lack of updates! Simultaneously (and perhaps the cause), my so-called “vanishing” Lyme flare decided to show up for a rude visit (I jokingly say it was making up for June’s middle-of-the-month flare being so mild). The headache was included, yes, but with it I also had worse dystonia, nerve pain that (as I think I’ve been mentioning for several flares now) affected mostly my arms, more numbness in my face and on top of my head, and very much increased weakness. Of particular note is that the numbness that’s been happening with them feels more like a pinched nerve, but doesn’t actually appear to be one. Late night on June 29th, I privately wrote, “Nothing too significant to report, but for the past hour or so I’ve had increasing numbness in my left arm.” And then it began…

Well my Lyme flare seems to have started again, similarly, with more feelings of a pinched nerve in my arms. I am also experiencing leg weakness, facial grimacing, and dystonia. I haven’t walked for two days due to some combination of muscle pain and shin pain, in combination with the weakness. I’m continuously told the shin pain is bartonella, but is it?

Back in the same note I wrote on the 2nd (Saturday), I also mentioned that the muscles in my right leg were hurting… And I can’t help but realize that the same thing has been happening to me, again, for the past two days. I’ve noticed a strange pattern where every Friday and Saturday are bad days for me, for probably the past five weeks. This weekend wasn’t any exception…except for that I precipitated it and therefore took to rest, which definitely helped me get through it easier, lest I wouldn’t be typing right now! I’m not positive, but I think this weekly pattern might be bartonella related… I recently found out I most likely have two strains of bartonella, and possible ehrlichiosis or rickettsia, but more on that later.

On the 14th, I wrote of having a very unstable gait (the last day I walked, as of right now) and coughing, with several moments of spontaneous exhaustion. I also mentioned my arms getting weaker (a lot in part with me overdoing it on Wednesday, though), and that’s when the pinched nerve feeling began. I’ve also been very thirsty again, something akin to what happened to me back here; I also had the leg pain with that Lyme flare, so maybe it’s just a strange new Lyme symptom?

Soon, I’d like to make a post–perhaps a sticky post to tag to the top of my blog–as a reference for all information related to human bartonellosis. I think 75% of my search referrals are from people searching for information about this infection and its chronic symptoms. And having personal experience with it, I may as well compile what I know about it, for those who need it.

Next I shall write about the exciting results I got from my IGeneX testing!
a rainbow at night

Lyme Flare Recap and a Small Rant About Diseases “Existing”

I’ve decided to do things a bit differently this post. I’ve been planning this entry for four days, but I’ve been so severely confused and disorganized that it’s been a huge struggle! I did manage to scrape together some random notes for a private entry on Monday, so I can use those to help me. Several things to say this time around, but first thing’s first, considering the entire reason I have this blog: Symptom recap.

This has been the lightest Lyme flare I have had in months. I was not bedbound! I barely had any dystonia and I had no cardiac involvement whatsoever! I did get parkinsonism. But the main feature has been extreme cognitive dysfunction (brainfog, if you will). My eyes dance over words instead of reading them, my brain hasn’t been able to form sentences in the right order, and my memory is on temporary hiatus. I’ve also had moderate-severe fatigue, which was expected. I’ve fallen asleep numerous times during the day, and the fact that my sleeping has been so disorganized at night does not help. There’s been more difficulty breathing, and my herxing has been worse, which I seem to recall happening last month around this time as well? I did have a day or two where I was extremely thirsty, but I don’t know if it was infection-related borderline dehydration or Zoloft-related cottonmouth… And I had several “headache bursts” from the 19th-20th; it eventually stuck on Monday, and moved to my neck, so I needed Lortab and ibuprofen. My back was hurting, specifically my upper back (another Lyme trend–it used to be my lower spine, but more recently it likes to affect my upper spine), and I also had the strange arm numbness phenomenon that happens, with certain severe headaches. Monday night was severe as far as the dysautonomia is concerned; my tongue was completely numb, and my face tingled. I was also anxious, which tends to happen when the vagus nerve is being.. out of line. Sometimes when I digest, it can feel like an anxiety attack without the anxiety, if one can imagine that sort of thing.

Otherwise, I’ve been seeing things more often (again), starting at least around the 17th. There was a possible bartonella flare on the 19th-20th: I had a ton of shin pain, and moderate amount of foot pain. However, my legs were also sore in general, so I’m unsure if this cluster of symptoms was bart-related or just activity-related. That said, I also had the moodswings, the muscle spasms, and the frontal headache, so…

Being in the sunlight for five minutes on Monday started a systemic reaction that lasted all night, even with ibuprofen. It’s not arthritis or joint pain, but it makes it difficult to bend my joints, because it feels like something is tearing. My joints are warm to the touch. Does anyone else get that? It’s funny, because it’s a Lupus-like symptom, but I happen to be one of the people with (multiple!) negative ANA results! I find that ironic in a world where it seems like everyone with Lyme gets a positive ANA at one point or another.

Also, I’ve had tinnitus for a month now…at least, that I’ve noticed. There is always some type of white noise in my surroundings, and I’ve noticed for the past month that whenever it’s truly quiet, my ears are ringing constantly. They of course started doing strange things when I started the Zithro, and there were those couple of weeks when my equilibrium was completely off, so I’m assuming there’s some inner ear component to this illness. Who knows, I’ve always struggled with ear infections. It was even an ear infection that made the M.E. relape, as well as caused scarring from the persisting inflammation; truly, who knows! But I hope it’s not permanent!

I saw my primary physician on Monday, which is why I left the house. She was very glad to see the treatments are finally working for me; even she was starting to wonder whether they’d be worth it. She was pleased with the combination of medications I was on, also. She said Rifampin added to other antibiotics can increase the effects of those other antibiotics, so even a small dose is still like a superdrug. Makes perfect sense to me, and helps solidify all the things I’ve “heard” about Rifampin increasing the effects of other antibiotics: It’s true!

Now, would anyone like to see a few photos for a change? First off, about three weeks ago an “anonymous” friend mailed me a Giant Microbes plush of Lyme disease. I took a picture of him! (And eventually found out the friend.)

Then the day before, another friend mailed me a box of assorted presents, including a belated sugarfree Easter bunny! There was also origami (cranes in a box and one dragon), a gorgeous necklace, more sugarfree chocolate, soothing scented candles, and.. baby spirochetes!!


Aren’t they just adorable? I unraveled the one at the top to sling around a bit, ha! What I didnt include in the picture are the new notecards (complete with rainbow-esque case), but that’s because I was too busy using them to keep myself organized!

Also, the card has a Yorkie sticker on it. That’s because I have a yorkshire terrier/maltese mix (technically a Yorktese), named Muffin. My family has been taking care of her for the most part until just recently, when, with my improvement, I’ve been able to be more of a dog mommy to my own dog. She’s still growing her hair, but here is a recent picture of her!

It took so long to get a good shot of her–I eventually had to put the camera on the ground!

And one last thing. As a fair warning, please do not send me e-mails telling me how you do not “believe” in M.E., or chronic Lyme disease, or whathaveyou. I’ll simply block you, like I’ve had to do once already this week. (What a  coincidence–or not–that someone found my blog this week by searching for “myalgic encephalomyelitis why no one believes my pain.”) It’s bad enough that I can’t talk to people with Lyme disease without them doubting that M.E. exists, and that I can’t talk to people with M.E. without them doubting that chronic Lyme disease exists. They BOTH exist. I had one, then I got the other; I am your proof. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get support in either of those communitities? And for that, I blame the CDC, for literally CREATING the category of “CFS,” so that people are forever being misdiagnosed with this catch-all syndrome instead of their real ailment, whether it’s M.E. or Lyme or cancer or whathaveyou. Like a friend said: If I had HIV, would people question that I couldn’t have HIV because I had Lyme, or vice-versa? No. They understand that they are distinct, both disastrous, and you can have them both. You treat them, and you do the best you can.

I’ve given everyone lots of accurate information about both M.E. and Lyme disease through the links on the right side of this blog. Please make use of them before contacting me about such offensive matters.

Until next time!

a rainbow at night

Still Waiting for the Symptom Limbo to Cycle Out

Times like this when I wonder if my treatment has stalled out, or if I’m just being impatient.

I think the breathing episodes from yesterday could have been the result of redirected blood flow to my intestines, even though I didn’t eat a lot. I had a small episode of breathlessness about two hours after last night’s Rifampin, and again two hours after today’s. The culprit was dysautonomia, which has been getting more irritable since this last Lyme flare started, as I mentioned here in reference to the numbness rearing up again. After the digestion stopped, things went back to normal again. I can’t say for sure that’s what happened for three hours yesterday, but it’s worthy of note, regardless. My limbs went numb, and I had physical symptoms of anxiety without the mental anxiety; typical of “the episodes.” It’s like I’m herxing worse, for some strange reason.

Today I’ve been in another limbo. The entire day has been a back-and-forth of “I feel okay” to “I feel horrible.” I wish it would just pick one so I know how to react. This instability is maddening. Right now I’m in one of the bad parts, and my evening headache has arrived so I’m on more Lortab. I need to add ibuprofen because the other one alone does not relieve inflammation and therefore doesn’t do much. My eyes hurt and are sensitive. My neck hurts. It’s been hurting a lot recently, actually. It now pains me to look downward, and I can’t past a certain point, which I noticed today. I halfway wonder if I’m dealing with subclinical meningitis. I mean, if it can happen in syphilis (A chronic subclinical meningitis (meningismus) is sometimes associated with syphilis)… There’s no telling what goes on inside you when you have at least three infections in your brain and spinal cord. (Ironically, the next few lines after that quote talk about offering Rifampin as a treatment. The book is about the hidden connection of AIDS and syphilis; in modern days, we’re dealing with another retrovirus + spirochete combination, with XMRV and Lyme.)

It feels like I go through stages with the headaches, as well? Honestly, the strange patterns these diseases take. I go through a spell where I barely have any headaches, and then I go through a few weeks where I get them daily. And back and forth.

You know what I don’t feel the need to do anymore? To say I’m thankful. To remind people that even though I’m frustrated, I do appreciate the things I have. I used to care too much of what people thought, that if I took a moment to explain why I was distraught, someone might take that the wrong way and act like one of my doctors or ill-advised family members, responding with, “You just need a better attitude! Think of the positive!” Well, I no longer feel the need to explain that I always do that, even on the days that I’m frustrated. If I can gain any lesson from days like this, I’ll take that one.

a rainbow at night