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.