I have Lyme. I’d like to not have it anymore. I also just want cake.
I figured it has been a while since I have provided an update on how things are going with my actual Lyme Disease and treatment cycles. I’ve been stewing for a few days about what to say… because really, I’m so incredibly mentally absent during my treatment weeks that it’s all a vague blur with a just a few notable memories of exceptional suffering. Even my husband bids my goodbye at the start of each cycle. But I will think of something. So here goes.
Cycle 10 consisted of 12 IV antibiotic treatment days (with one gracious day off in the middle) and 3 days of the oral drug Coartem (for my babesia) a few days later (per usual). I went through this one in the beginning of December. I remember nothing except for one night. One night of horrible, violent, incessant, vomiting. Do you want proof? You probably don’t. Too bad.
That, right there, is some beautiful capillary and vessel damage (none of that is acne, despite looking like I could use some accutane or something). I don’t think my camera quite captured its full work of art on my face. The mottled red and purple splotching was truly something to behold. Look how pale and even my neck and forehead is! Then look at what is in-between! Just look at it! Okay, so anyways. It’s all coming back to me now. Lately, my cycles have been completely shutting down my GI tract. Like… borderline gut paralysis. My doctor believes this to be the result of die-off happening somewhere along the communication lines between brain and gut. Bugs die along the brain-to-gut-highway, toxins accumulate, nervous system starts freaking out, and brain is all like:
So this night was the result of my Marinol never making it past my stomach to the absorption part in time to prevent the absolute total rejection my body feels for IV Tigecycline. By the time the sun rose the next morning I nursed my wounds and picked myself back up again and hooked up that IV line for more. Fear left me a long time ago. Obviously.
My following med break over Christmas was unimpressive to say the least. My neuro symptoms came back with a vengeance requiring me to begin Cycle 11 one week early. I called my doc and apparently was dying for more torture again so we ordered up the drugs and cue Cycle 11. As a side-note, December was also a very discouraging month for me. I had expected to “graduate” from my IV program back in October. I had been maintaining a positive and motivated attitude despite the extension of this madness for a while. Spiritually, I was on a high from feeling such a sense of purpose that I had discovered from my illness late summer. I felt like God and I were in this crazy three-legged race tied together and nothing could knock me down. Because, like, who knocks God down? I guess that’s when an opportunity for God to test your faith again is ripe. November and December were dark, and I felt like my progress in this horrible disease had suffered such a setback that I nearly felt like I was back at the beginning – with 7 months of hard work lost. I did my best to keep swimming and trusting in this program – and God. I tried my best to fight off the darkness that threatened to ruin my purposes in this whole ordeal.
I officially completed Cycle 11 yesterday. When I say I can’t remember much of Cycle 10, I mean that I remember Cycle 11 even less. I upped my Marinol, which did prevent another barf-fest, however, I still wasn’t liberal enough with the drug and all I remember is horrific, constant, nausea. Nausea in my head. Nausea in my toes. What? Is that even possible? Tara?
I have already concluded that if there is to be a Cycle 12, this girl is going to soak in THC the entire time. Literally soak in it.
However, my gut paralysis had improved this time! I slept like a baby each night! Everything was so nice and calm on the neuro front that I relished in that facet of the cycle. Despite feeling like a toxic bag of garbage something deep inside felt like this particular cycle killed a LOT of bugs and we made us some distinguishable progress! Maybe they were out dancing in the face of my depression. I hope so. I hope this cycle caught them as they laughed. I really like the idea of ruining their momentary notions of winning, by utter obliteration. I like picturing this.
STILL, it hurt. It was a rough one. No way to avoid friendly fire in these extremely aggressive cycles. I look at myself in the mirror and look so haggard and aged. That sucks. When this is all over I am going to coddle my cells back to their youthful vigor.
So the IV portion ended one week ago. It took me several days to detox and I did so aggressively. I meant business about feeling better. I hit it hard. This time, I did it like a winner though. On the bathroom floor.
I just finished my Coartem round yesterday. Hardly any herxing from it at all. First time ever. Could my babesia colony be finally, finally dying? Can more of my red blood cells float around freely without the threat of invasion by these stupid parasitic jerks? Just thinking this makes me feel like roaring at the sky with clenched fists of womanly strength and victory. I’ll save that for the final go-ahead from Dr. J. though. As for today, I feel great (for a Lyme girl). I haven’t had any crazy neuro symptoms since stopping the antibiotics for my med break. I have two more weeks to go but I feel hopeful. I am afraid to say I’ve turned a corner… I don’t want to jinx it… but something does feel different. I just, I can’t. I can’t even. What it took to potentially get here… all the suffering… the cycles… Stop. Tara. Stop. You know what will happen if you keep typing…
Also, I was also recently made aware that it is 2015 now. #Lymeprobs. Happy New Year!