chronic lyme disease with a taste of nut
Saturday, what a day. Not the 4th of July.
My past two Saturdays have not been a picnic in the park.
The good thing is that I’ve found a blog that is a lot better than mine – yay! I can just direct you there instead of straining my brain to put words together and click-ticking away at the keyboard when my hands twitch so bad I have to threaten them to behave or else. Funny what motivates me lately.
Body, if you don’t behave, I won’t give you that piece of 100% Stevia chocolate.
Body, if you don’t behave, no nice detox bath for you.
Of course, those baths might backfire because what helps can also hurt if you do it too much, too long, or if your body just can’t properly detoxify itself, as in my case. So nevermind the threat of the bath. I’ll stick to food. Chocolate, even “fake” chocolate, is a big one.
So the past two Saturdays I’ve gone out of my gourd. New symptoms, all neurological or psychological. I think I already chronicles what happened last Saturday (I can’t remember, to be honest, but I’m going to continue writing this blog entry as if I did tell you about the craziness of last Saturday, the scare of C Diff and the 3 days-stuck-in-the-bedroom/bathroom…ah, yes, it’s coming back to me now; I did tell you). Well, yesterday was another Saturday. And I’m beginning to think I have a thing with Saturdays. They don’t like me very much. The past two are non-antibiotic days that come directly AFTER antibiotic days.
My husband says that isn’t enough data to go by – two days’ worth of pattern – so I’m trying to hold back judgment. But just between you and me, shhh…. I think Saturdays, during my on-weeks of abx, will be a bit dicey.
One of my fun psych/neuro symptoms is total meltdown over the tiniest things. I first noticed this early on in treatment when I was on my laptop, this precious laptop I am typing on now, and the mouse pad was spazzing out and the screen was zooming to 200% and down to 10% randomly.
Now that is annoying even if your nerves aren’t frayed and your myelin sheath isn’t disintegrating. But in the case of neurological lyme, I felt like a fire had burst in my head and the impulse to throw this laptop across the room was massive.
Luckily, rationale won and the laptop remained in my lap. But my oldest stepdaughter and my husband looked at me a bit oddly as I grunted and shivered and did a weird-angry-face-contortion. Back then, their reaction was, “geez, calm down!”
How could I tell them that the impulse to throw this laptop across the room was like an itch that popped up and needed to be scratched?
I’d soon notice that the urge to throw things across the room was becoming a trend, a theme during treatment.
The laptop-throwing impulse was the first “weird” impulse or symptom I noticed. Next came the noise.
Noise had a brand new kind of noise. Imagine, if you will, noise having different colors. Your child talking is yellow. The cat meowing is pink. The laundry going off is blue. The child opening the refrigerator door is green.
In non-Lymie land your noise, and thus colors, are distinct and separate. For the lymie, however, noise has a whole new dimension. And it isn’t fun.
Last Friday night’s foray into going-out-to-eat-normalcy, for instance, ended up being an abysmal failure. Applebees was never so disorientating. There were two tables the staff came out and sang “Happy Birthday” to and the old man behind me had a very loud voice. My fork clanged against my dish and my poor husband was telling me a story knowing I just couldn’t make sense of anything. It was like
I wanted to cry. Oh, I actually did – right there in the Applebees booth. After laboring over what entree was gluten-free and had as little dairy in it as possible, my Fiesta Lime Chicken came and da da DA….it had melted cheese on top.
I didn’t expect the yummy delicious contraband to mock me as it did. Tears erupted. The waiter asked if everything was all right.
I was not all right.
Ok, so fast forward to yesterday, the 2nd Saturday I had severe symptoms. I had been watching “our show” with my husband and oldest stepdaughter. I noticed stage 1 of herxing and I should have taken my Tri-Salts or an Alka-Seltzer Gold immediately, but I was lazy and didn’t want to interrupt the show. Bad idea. Be impolite next time, Lisa…
My body began internally buzzing, vibrating, shaking, whatever name you want to call it. It starts off subtle, like a tease. Like an “oh that’s interesting…” and then before I know it, I need help walking. Hubs helped me up the stairs and I have a memory gap between the top of the stairs and being in bed. I guess I lost the ability to speak and just as he escorted me near the bed, I began to have waves of convulsions.
New to neurological lyme and seizure activity? I discovered my new favorite blog, “Will There Be Cake” and the author, Tara, writes brilliantly with pizzazz and truth about what could be a dry and confusing subject. Read it here!
What I believe I had (according to what I felt and what Hubs told me) was a focal/partial seizure. I don’t know for sure, of course. Perhaps it was just severe, severe herxing. Like…body spitting out toxins kind of herxing. Body convulsing in waves spitting gunk out in invisible pat-oo-ees. But given that I already know my lyme disease has turned neurological and affected the central nervous system, I’m willing to bet it was a type of focal/partial seizure.
Now… I’d like to write a whole blog entry about how I coped with that experience. It is a serious and wonderful topic that includes much talk about faith and hope and the tone is just…different than today’s blog post so I will write about it another time. To be continued in that regard…
After the “seizure” I was utterly exhausted. I continued to “buzz” the rest of the night but did not have any more convulsions. My eyes did become strange. They felt swollen, tiny, beady, watery, misty, cloudy, I can’t think of anymore words that end in -y but I’m sure there are some. I’m walking around not quite seeing everything. I can’t explain.
So now that it’s too late in the evening and after I told myself I wouldn’t stay up late again, I’ll leave you with this gem from Tara’s blog, “Will There Be Cake.” It describes much of the neurological crazycol effects that can happen in actual words – whereas I try to explain it and it comes out in grunts and um’s. Enjoy.
Until next Saturday…
— lymie out…
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