Category Archives: Complementary Treatments for Lyme Disease

The Morning After

I used the bio-mat last night. Dreamy. Slept well.

But here’s the kicker. My little guy heard me laughing in the kitchen. The teenager was IN THE SAME ROOM with me.

Direct quote: “You don’t laugh, mom. And you NEVER laugh when you are in the same room with HIM.”

And then, I started singing songs from A Chorus Line.

I’m going to say yes to the bio-mat.

New Adventure: Bio Mat

We ordered a bio-mat. Yes, we wanted an IMRS mat, but the cost difference is too great at this point in our journey, so we got the bio mat instead. We ordered ours through Scott, the Better Health Guy and he has been very supportive through the ordering and delivery process.

Yesterday we all spent a little time on the mat sans lights. The teenager used it full on, lights and heat and everything.

Today, I did the same. He told me that he slept better than he has slept in years. Craving that experience, I decided to try it myself. I used it on the second lowest setting. Lots of negative ions generating. I was on it for well over 30 minutes. Very, very relaxing.

Loved it. We will see what tomorrow brings. I’m going to put the little guy on it. Hopefully it will mellow the little chatter box out.

Gallery

All that I could be blogging about. . . a year end review

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Life is full.  Very full. I could be blogging about tonsils, possible surgery, the search for alternatives. I could be blogging about treating with photons, with nosodes of lyme, blood, urine, saliva and candida. I could be blogging about the … Continue reading

Blog This SH*#$

Thanks to a dear friend and fellow blogger, I’ve got my fingers on the keys, again. Not that the nudge will get me back to blogging regularly, but today, I will. And maybe tomorrow. Facebook and twitter just seem so much easier. So much faster. But I miss blogging. So here goes.

My sons were never vaccinated. I get grief about it from people quite often. But never from doctors. With the history in my extended family and with my kids living on the edge, it’s just a good thing that I didn’t do it.

But, the whole PANDAS diagnosis/research seems to volley around the issue of vaccines. What does an unvaccinated kid who gets a “strep on steroids” infection look like? How do we treat him?

The answer so far? We don’t know.

So, yesterday, I packed a rental car full of things to do and food to eat and went to see a doctor that seems to get both Lyme and PANDAS, at least a little bit.

The journey was worthwhile, as always. I made him laugh. The little guy made him laugh. He made me cry. All in a day’s work for a mom parenting kids who live on the edge. And he told me that you usually see a connection between a PANDAS diagnosis and vaccines. Not in my world. So it seems more complex, again.

Sometimes I forget how sick my kids are. Especially the little one. I just keep keeping on, and the doctor visits are highlighted with all the good. The “upward spiral” and the “good grades”. And other days, we look at the shadow. The under belly. The sh#%(.

My kid is sick. Some days, I just don’t even want to talk about or think about how complex his issues are. The hardest part is that so far, I haven’t been able to find anyone who really gets what’s going on with him. If I were a different kind of parent, I might just look at him, ignore the dark circles under the eyes and just keep keeping on. But I don’t. I push for answers. I push for him to get well. I hope that the teenagers frankenstein-looking lymph nodes doesn’t mean another flare is on its way, or that I’m too busy helping one kid that I’m playing ostrich with the life of the other. I search for treatments, money, the next great hope for a cure. Heading down to the lab to get some subclass deficiency and immune issue tests. But waiting until AFTER Valentines Day. Blood draws WIPE this kid out.

It’s not one thing. That, I know. If it were, I’d be selling some sort of MLM product that had cured us all. Instead, I’m back to the Rubik’s cube. Or just STILL HERE.

 

Rubik’s Cube, Revisited

I know one person who has lyme that is well. ONE. And I only know her virtually. She has saved my life on more than one occasion. And my marriage. She lived in hell, like the rest of us, but now she has clarity. She KNOWS that all this ‘fighting for our lives’ business is worth it. Good thing, because most of the time there is nothing in my life to make me believe that. So, I need to trust her.

But, why is she well? And how does one person being well give me hope, when there are thousands who are not, many who have died this year alone, and kids being born to moms with un-diagnosed lyme every day?

Because if one person figured out treatment for her particular form of this insipid disease, then more of us can. It is like a Rubik’s cube. My friend Leland can do one in no-time-flat. Me? Not so much. My son works it with the instruction booklet. Try one twist to the right. One to the left. Get ahead. Step backward. Get boxed into a dark alley by Bartonella. Waltz around with Babesia. Try another herb, another antibiotic. Add another layer, try another probiotic. What about frequency therapy? Sauna? How about light therapy? Diet? Raw Foods?

Yep. If I know 200 people with CHRONIC LYME disease, there are 200 different rubiks cubes to solve. When I used this analogy, my kid with serious cognitive trouble glares at me. “But MOM! I can’t solve the Rubik’s Cube!” Nope. Neither can I. That’s why we have Anne coming over with Freddy to help us on Wednesday. Carrie in the afternoon. Dr. P. sees me on Wednesday. Isabelle is going to sew some casings and hems to get some curtains on our windows, finally. That frees up the little energy I have to make appointments for the acupuncturist, check in with the frequency therapist, administer coffee enemas, the coconut oil, the homeopathics. We just keep twisting until we find something that feels like it is working.

Too many cooks spoil the soup? Is it like a big wapatooie party where everyone throws the liquor in the Kool-Aid and everyone gets loaded? Kind of feels that way. . but it isn’t. We have to find the right combination because there is no protocol that works for everybody. Nothing like a life threatening illness to make you learn to trust yourself. Nothing quite like it.

Now, back to the rubik’s cube.

Forgiveness

I’ve had a whole lot of therapists in my time.  I’ve dumped a few, one has died, others I just stopped going to and they never called to check in on why I left.  But there’s one that keeps coming back into our life.  My husband saw him 13 years ago for Life Coaching, and then on and off we’ve seen him as our relationship coach (makes it sound like we are proactive about the relationship, rather than trying to put out fires, doesn’t it?)  We’ve been seeing him for the past couple of years as we deal with all the relationship issues that tend to spin around a couple that is dealing with a chronic illness (or 2 or 3 or 4).

I got a text from hubby this morning, reminding me that we had an appointment, but he had to work, and would it be okay if I went on my own?

Ugh.  It’s a lot of money to waste, so I went.  And, I was okay with that.

I walked into the office with the DSM IV under my arm, a little light reading swiped from the bookshelf in the waiting area.  Clearly, I sent a message of, “I mean business,” and “I’m ready to pathologize myself!”  ; )

I thought I would be nervous. . but we jumped right in.  John has a way of getting to the core of issues. . inviting you just to crawl into the belly of the beast.  One session with him is like 6 months worth of a mediocre therapist, and believe me, I’ve seen plenty, I’ve gone to school with a few, and I’ve heard about even more.

I told him that paying him was like doing my own psychic reading, and having him as a witness.  And it was worth every penny.  My heart just cracked open and I saw truth.  Well, at least after we argued about my enneagram and its fondness for suffering.

I need to forgive myself.  For being ill.  For not opening my arms and my heart to the Faculty member at my college who cornered me in a hallway and told me that she thought I had a chemical imbalance, soon after the bite, instead of pushing her and all the people who cared about me away.

I deserve to forgive myself for not allowing myself to be vulnerable.  I was trying to make a name for myself in a male dominated profession.  I believed I had to hide behind my toughness–my ability to leap tall buildings in a single bound.

I need to forgive myself for believing that my natural treatments, my holistic work, my diet and my yoga were the first line of defense to my issues.  I need to let go of the “what ifs” and the “if onlys” and just accept what is here.

I need to forgive myself for passing these infections to my kids and to my husband.  And stop pretending I’ve already forgiven myself.

I deserve to forgive myself for not having all the answers.  For not knowing that my kids were infected.  For not knowing that all of my seemingly little issues were actually really big, and far beyond what I could handle myself.  For denying my gut feelings.  For trusting people who said they could help me, and for not recognizing that they were full of ego, not care.

I deserve self-forgiveness.

I get to soften to myself–stop thinking that I have somehow failed because my novels aren’t published, and I’m not famous.  I need to forgive myself for not “being all that I could be” like the guys in those Army posters, or the people I went to College with.  I need to stop believing that because I haven’t accomplished all that I thought I would by this age, that I haven’t made an impact on the world.

I need to see myself as a beautiful result of every moment, every decision, every happening in my life thus far.  The joy, the initial infection, the hope, the chronic nature of my illness, my creativity, the difficult treatment.  All of it.

Radical Forgiveness.  That’s a tough one.  But I’m giving myself the invitation.  If I get through this lesson, I might actually start believing there is divine order in the world.

That would be a miracle.

What’s The Big Deal About Lyme Disease, Anyway?

This is a repost from last year sometime.  Thought it might be a good one for Lyme Disease Awareness Month.  Please share the link on your facebook wall.  Anyone can get lyme.  You don’t have to love the woods, you don’t have to own a dog, you don’t even need to leave the city to get it.  So learn about it.  And do your friends a favor by sharing information about it.

I’m thinking there are a whole lot of people who would like to ask a whole lot of questions of me, directly related to my illness. But I don’t know. Part of me thinks my house could be on fire and no one would notice. Everyone is busy. Life is full. Most people keep their drapes drawn and hope that the sick family is okay. Maybe they think we should be well. . and think we must be crazy since we aren’t well.

I start to wonder what people might ask if they didn’t feel like they were being petty or judgmental. So, I’m going to imagine this little question and answer, all the while, wishing people might just ask us for the answers. If people were asking these questions about our illness we might feel a little less isolated.

Question: Why aren’t you well yet? The IDSA (Infectious Disease Society of America) says you should be well with 4 weeks of treatment. It has been more than a year since your diagnosis. What gives?

Answer: Lyme Disease is a complex disease that rarely involves just one infectious disease. Ticks are cesspools of bacteria, parasites and viruses and when they yack into a human (or animal) body, you get it all. Even the IDSA agrees that you need 6 weeks of treatment for Babesiosis. I was never tested for Lyme, for Babesiosis or any other co-infection. So, in 1985, when I got the rash and got sick, I had 10 days of antibiotics. Because of the manipulative power of the bacteria/parasites, my illness went into my nervous system, did all kinds of hiding, and I had beautiful remissions when I was pregnant. So, these little critters have been fruitful and multiplying in every part of my body for 25 years. It is a wonder I am alive.

Question: Why do you say your kids have CONGENITAL Lyme Disease? How can a tick bite be congenital?

Answer: Well, I had the bite and was only partially treated in 1985. Chances are that the infamous bite of 1985 was NOT the first time I had been infected with these diseases. I grew up having imbedded ticks and we traveled often to the East Coast. Both of my parents had obvious symptoms of Bartonella, including difficulty making decisions and society anxiety. When did it enter my system for sure? Nobody knows. But all the infections crossed the placenta, and/or entered the babies during gestation or breast-feeding. When? I know for our little guy, Ezra, it likely crossed in the second trimester, when he died.

Question: Why aren’t your kids well now that they’ve been treated for over a year?

Answer: Well, Lyme and co-infections set the terrain of the body to allow all kinds of viral and parasitic opportunistic infections into the body. My kids were born with chronic lyme. There is no definitive cure. Yet. I hope my kids get well. All I can do is help them change the terrain of the body to better handle the infections and parasites within.

Question: I hope you guys are doing okay over there. I think about you often.

Answer: Okay, so this isn’t a question. If you are THINKING about someone with a serious chronic illness, if you are sending them love and light, if you are hoping for the best, you could be doing something practical for them. They are have issues with memory, often have issues with executive function like returning emails, phone calls, or responding to requests for help, and are most likely extremely isolated as they fight for their health and for the health of their children. They might be depressed. They might spend their evenings surfing craigslist for pets they want to rescue but could never take care of.

Show up on their doorstep, just like the Mormons do and start doing something. Don’t try to plan it, or ask them if you could help, just show up. Do the dishes. Throw in a load of laundry. Organize something like a meal making night, a laundry fest, a cleaning day, or just take the dog for a walk.

Isolation is a nightmare. Anything helps. A simple thing is NOT too little.

Question: So, when is your treatment going to end? Well. . probably never. Will we get better? We hope so. I’ve been sick for 25 years. My kids were born in the chronic phase of the illness. Their immune systems are compromised and they are pretty darn fragile. There is no protocol for Lyme Disease. Every doctor does it a different way, and most doctors do it differently for every patients. And every treatment plan is a crap shoot.

Question: So, here is what I don’t get. You complain about your “herxing”, you talk about how crappy you feel, you say that your kids live on the edge. Why the heck do none of you look sick?

So, my challenge to this question is this, “what does SICK look like”?

Does it look like somebody who only has the energy to bathe once a week?
Does it look like someone who hasn’t had the energy to get a haircut in close to 6 months?
Does it look like someone who can’t push her 4 year old in the swings at the park because she gets out of breath?
How ’bout someone whose kids look like little rag-a-muffins?

That’s what sick looks like. No chemo scarf. No bags under my eyes. To be told I look great though, is to deny how shitty I feel. I joke with my friend Ellen, “you look great, but I bet you feel like shit”. That’s the best thing to say. Acknowledge my illness. Having my struggle ignored makes me feel even more isolated. I feel isolated even when I’m not.

Question: So, what about Lyme rage? Didn’t that chimp have Lyme?

Answer: Yep, the chimp that ripped the woman’s face off was being treated for Lyme. I’m not going to kid you about Lyme and Bartonella. Some people don’t have mood issues with either. Some have anxiety. I have that. And I get confused and lost and sometimes my brain feels like I’m trapped in a Steven King novel. That is why I need so much help. I’m trying to parent children while I have a horror movie going on in my head. It isn’t always there. But when it is, it is really hard. Really scary.

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