A Plausible Case

As you may have read in the About Julie page of this blogsite, I treated for Chronic Lyme Disease early in the four years that I have been battling serious illness.  I had not recovered my health four months after a bout with viral hepatitis and our Family Practice Physician convinced me and Steve that latent Lyme disease was keeping me sick.  Then the story changed a few times . . .

Treatment for Lyme disease, Candida, mold exposure, mercury toxicity, gut parasites, and infected root-canaled teeth has still left me with the following symptoms four years later:

  • Hours of daily convulsive episodes, every single day
  • Headaches
  • Painful shoulders, forearms, hips, neck, jaw, and more
  • Ringing in my ears
  • Multiple severe chemical, mold, and sound/light sensitivities
  • Significant nutritional and hormonal deficiencies
  • Fatigue
  • Episodic cognitive and emotional setbacks
  • Periodic night terrors, nightmares, waking terrors
  • Weakness and deconditioning
  • Air hunger and chest compression symptoms
  • Neuropathies
  • Severely disrupted sleep/wake cycle
  • Food sensitivities despite a restricted diet
  • Gut dysbiosis
  • Inability to consistently perform activities of daily living or work
  • Social isolation
  • Intolerance to treatment

So in other words, my life is kinda hellish a lot of the time!  Today was no exception.  Then right in the middle of the trauma there were tender encounters with the sweetest man on the face of the earth:  my Stevers.  We talked in between seizure attack episodes, he provided care when I could not move, and we made the most of a low-key day.  It was the “same story, different day” around here.  And something else happened too:  I may have discovered another piece of this wretched illness mystery:  Latent Lyme Disease can affect the gut which in turn can contribute to neurological complications much like the ones that have eluded all of our attempts at recovery.

No, it’s not systemic Candida as I suspected when I wrote my last Treatment Update.  It’s called “Bell’s Palsy of the Gut,” a term coined by Lyme Literate Medical Doctor (LLMD) Virginia T. Sherr.  “Gastrointestinal Lyme disease may cause gut paralysis and a wide range of diverse GI symptoms with the underlying etiology likewise missed by physicians,” states Dr. Sherr in the April 2006 issue of Practical Gastroenterology (p. 74).  There are tests that can be performed to determine the presence of Borrelia burgdorferi along with other microbial pathogens  transferred in tick saliva after a bite.  In two weeks I will have a diagnostic procedure in which these tests could also be performed.  Whoa Lord.  Is that why I felt led to add an anti-microbial to my anemic treatment plan?

God is good.  All the time.  God is good.  Today I felt led to add back a probiotic that I actually was able to tolerate this time.  The new information about Lyme disease may explain the increasing gut inflammation this past year and my supremely negative response to a trial of a far-infrared light treatment to my abdomen.  Or to any abdominal exam.  Or to physical therapy to the hip flexors in the lower part of the abdominal wall.  Or to certain foods.  At any rate, a new door has opened and there are new possibilities for getting well.  Perhaps it is time to re-visit the diagnosis of Lyme disease.

Stay tuned.  This exquisitely wild roller coaster ride of recovery from serious illness is about to reach a new station.  In the meantime, please pass a spoon and 1/2 of a carton of Siggis plain, grass-fed, organic and Icelandic yogurt.  We’re going to get this thing right or keep screaming all the way to the bottom of the next hill until we do!  (I told you that I worked in an amusement park one summer didn’t I?  Yeah, Cedar Point is really cool!)

Cedar Point gatekeeper_wallpaper

 

From the side of the bed

8th Anniversary 11.24.15
Celebrating our anniversary November 24, 2015

 

2015-11-28 23.11.54
Sick in bed November 27, 2015

He has seen it all

My beloved, the one with soft blue eyes;

In the medical facility or on the road as we pass across the miles

He looks to me with a precious love that makes me swoon all the time.

It doesn’t matter my status that day:

The screams of terror, the gentleness of a warm embrace,

He just looks at me as if we were lying under a canopy, shielded from the hot sun

By the lush branches of a mighty oak one summer’s morn along the way.

But that is not what has gone before me once again these past 3 days and more

His vacation was spent caring for me in ways neither one of us would choose.

He steps forth to do what must be done just the same

And says of our time:  “we had a nice week now didn’t we?”  I guess so, maybe in some ways we did my love.

I sigh in awe, something short of disbelief.  How did love like this find its way to this place between us?  This bed is marked more by sickness than passion night after day after night?

Surely it goes beyond that which either one of us can see!

This walk was borne from the One who made us thus and so

The One who set this path for goodness, for purpose yet unknown.

While wasted days is all that I can see very, very late this night

(With tensions mounting, wills weakening under the weight of it all)

I see that my Heavenly Husband carries our hearts with His special sip of tenderness

Bringing sweetness to our lips when we need it most as he has so many times before.

From the side of the bed

I look up and know more than my Love,

Surely I humbly receive care from more than the one I can see.

Thank you Jesus for my Steve.  Thank you Jesus me loving so!

So if ever you are graced by a love like this, dear Reader, and I hope someday that you do:

Hold tight, hold fast with praise, with alms beyond your brokenness to discover what the Lord alone can bring.

For you are witnessing more than a miracle in the midst of hurricane:

You are finding grace that will see you through anything, truly, truly with love I say this to you.

JJ

Treatment Update

outnumbered

The concept of negative numbers to me is as mind-boggling as that of anti-matter.  If something can be measured on an integer scale then I suppose the values could go up just as easily as they could go down.  But when they go below zero, which is nothing, how can anything be less than nothing?

Perhaps the answer depends upon to what subject the scale is being applied.  Ha!  I would love for my personal scale of symptoms to be at zero.  I would love for the intangibles wreaking havoc in my life to be less than nothing as well.  But that is just not how it is.  This past Fall was very bad, indeed.

More days this past Fall than any other time since I got sick over 4 years ago, did I write “Sick Day” on my calendar as the activity that characterized the entire day.  That means that over 8 daytime hours were spent in bed due to an inability to perform any goal-directed activity:  about 3 days each week.  That stinks.  I had three trips to the emergency room when exasperated with noxious symptoms, more variety in the traumatic nature of seizure attack episodes, an increase in triggers of episodes (which were unclear more of the time), and less ability to perform my activities of daily living.  Steve had to physically care for me (from toileting to feeding) about four times each week.  This year was the first time that I was unable to complete both my Spring and Fall clean-up chores for our gardens.  An occasional meal out with Steve has ceased.  There even was a blow-up with my Doc in which he suggested I might work with someone else.  He admitted that he doesn’t know what to do.  Fine.  But who else would that be?

So here is my status:

  • Results of blood tests and stool tests are now pending to identify microbes that may be keeping me from getting well.  Flare of systemic Candida is one possibility.
  • Chronic Lyme disease is back on my radar as a possibility so for these first two items I have started to take an anti-microbial supplement every day.
  • Mercury burden is significantly reduced yet its role in ongoing illness is still unclear.
  • Dehydration is a daily battle regardless of how many fluids I ingest or receive via IV.
  • Continuous daily seizure attacks total 2 to 5 hours every weekday and often increase to 8 hours at least one day per week.
  • Social isolation continues to be a problem.  I am grateful for a weekly Skype Bible/prayer time with fellow bloggers and may add a telephone support group soon.
  • An extremely restricted diet (sugar/sweetener-free, dairy/mold/gluten-free, low oxalate/copper/meat) only becomes more restrictive as time goes on than more permissive.  There are often episodes after eating and I do not know why.
  • Physical therapy has generally helped to reduce neck and other pain yet the 30-minute convulsive episode at the end of nearly every visit is burdensome.  I bring my own sheets and graciously they avoid fragrances around me.  They are saints!
  • Generally I am only able to leave the house for medical appointments, grocery shopping, etc. twice per week, remaining homebound the other days.  Recent exceptions:  two wakes!
  • Physical exercises and activities, including my P.T. home exercise program, are rare due the likelihood of triggering episodes.
  • Travelling, even with our super clean travel trailer, increases sickness too much to bother for awhile.  Setting it up takes me 3 weeks and cleaning it afterwards takes 3 weeks as well!  Oy vey.

So now my pity party is over and I have nothing left to say.  I am praying constantly for the Lord to keep my heart from bitterness yet I fear that I am losing the battle.  Crying comes forcefully during the setbacks and I am concerned that it is more a manifestation of illness progressed to my brain than true grief.  My husband Steve carries the burden of all of this in his own way.  He is a saint and my hero.  Thankfully he has a great support network at church and work, his athletic activities, and lots of social outlets to keep him going.  Steve is an amazing man surely one after the Lord’s own heart.

I am hopeful that the anti-microbial treatment will help me; sometimes it even stops the episodes.  Yeah God.  However I am very stressed about the upcoming holidays.  Maybe there will be a “Christmas miracle” at our house too?  Lord willing, the numbers in my life will improve in a positive direction.  In the meantime I will be hanging tough.  It’s the best I can do.  JJ

senior numbers

When there are no words

“Look up.  Look waaaaaay up,” were the words of The Friendly Giant in 1986.  This American children’s television host invited the viewer into his miniature living room where he pulled out a chair just for you by the fireplace.  Then an image of his fake leather boots appeared 10x the scale of the scene on the television as he invited little Sissy or young Bobby to follow the camera up to the smiling eyes waiting to tell a story, waiting to introduce you to a host of characters.  Rusty the Rooster was a silly-looking puppet yet their banter held my attention all the same.  Even though by 1986 I was not a kiddo anymore!

We often look up to see the wonder beyond us:  gazing at the twinkling stars so visible in the crisp Fall air or maybe oooing and ahhhing at the bright ornaments adorning the department store Christmas trees already on display before Thanksgiving.  There is something magical about a beautiful sight just beyond our gaze, just above our smaller human frame.  When that object is but ordinary the wonder may be less yet the opportunity to reflect may be just as profound too.

The ceiling above my bed of sickness holds much thought these days.  On a Monday I might see a simple popcorn ceiling in the same building contractor’s white paint of every home built that very year.  A few days later it may be the seam tape of the electrical lines painted to match the composite panel lining the roof of an aluminum travel trailer.  Two months ago it was a bright blue shade sail floating softly up, gently down above my patio chair when the weather was still sunny and warm.  Such simple forms that served to give me pause from the mayhem of the hours that dragged on before . . .

shade sail patio summer 2015

Times like these are best spent dwelling in the presence of the Lord.  No words fill my mind in those kind of moments.  The tears are already spent; the energy almost completely drained away.  Such is the aftermath of uncontrollable seizure attacks that plague my weakened frame day after night after day for hours without end.  The pattern continues despite new anti-microbial treatments, tests, consultations, prayer, tears, strategies new and old.  New pains come and find a way to stay.  There is nothing left to say.  There is nothing left to do but to dwell, I guess.

Even love can be like this I suppose when it hurts so bad and you still can’t seem to shake the pain away.  All you do is focus on the form that you knew or still know that stands in front of you when only a blank slate emptied of your future together remains.  Turn to the left, turn to the right, stand up, sit down, and unlike the cheer song at the football games in 1986, there is no fight!  Fight!  FIGHT!  when love goes away for good.  Oh how I long for the familiarity of the pains I had known long ago.  It would be so much easier to handle than the emptiness of my heart this night.  Yup.  The joy is gone!  Gone!  GONE!

So what’s a middle-aged gal to do in the middle of the night and there is nothing to look up to anymore?  When I have written more words from every angle that my heart can imagine and no new inspiration comes to fill the page, gosh, what will I do?  Not much, really.  Just wait I guess.  Tomorrow is a new day and it will be here before you know it.  Maybe something good will happen, eh?

In the meantime, won’t you hang in there with me?  Here, I have pulled up a chair for you too Gentle Reader.  The Friendly Giant is now known as Immanuel and has a special story to help us end this little time together.  It’s a great read for a bedtime story at any time of the day, I promise.

I do hope you enjoy it.  JJ

Psalm 121

Let the numbers tell this story

While the numbers in my college statistics courses were fascinating and I applied them well in my Master’s thesis, I must admit that math was never really my forte.  I’ll blame it on Mr. Courtright!  Our Algebra II/Trigonometry course in high school was a constant source of frustration!  John and a couple of the other male students would pour over the text book with him at the front of the room trying to understand the lessons he was supposed to be teaching that day.  Yeah, you got that right:  high school seniors trying to figure out advanced mathematics on the fly!  I am so very glad that I never again had to sit through a traditional math class after that one!

Statistics are a different genre though.  Statistics often tell a story that we can use to make sense out of the stuff of life.  For example, landing one standard deviation from the mean (the average) in a bell-shaped curve can help us feel like things are going to be o.k. most of the time, in the right scenario of course!  Enter here special numerals applied to my recent trip with Steve to Georgia and South Carolina that will tell this story better than I can even without a calculator!  Oh how I wish some of these were more comforting than the majority of them though . . .

Over 7 days of camping in 2 locations, I was unable to leave the travel trailer 3 of the days due to illness.

My beloved Steve attended 2 of the 3 family wedding-related activities in Georgia and I attended zero.

We travelled over 2,000 miles in my truck with our 67-pound German shepherd, Elle, settled sweetly behind the jump seat of the King Cab.  Such a great traveler she has become!

I prepared about 96% of all of my own meals making this trip more of a “business as usual” affair than vacation in the realm of food.

One hour of the five that I spent in our friends’ home on Monday was spent in continuous convulsive episodes on their couch.  Thankfully the two young children had already gone off to bed when I crashed; graciously the three adults prayed over me for the Lord’s tender care as we all go forward from the significant stressors in our lives.

The kids and I planted 32 daffodil bulbs the morning we left South Carolina, overplanted with dozens of anise hyssop seeds.  Hooray!  By Springtime the view from the kitchen window of their log cabin will be alive with flowers interspersed amongst the numerous towering pines.

daffodils, mini daffodils, buttercup flowers, Spring flowers

A threatening wind storm with gusts up to 40 MPH forced us to leave a day early for safety towing our Camplite on the highways to get back home.  Just a few minutes after we arrived home at 4:00 a.m., the winds increased again closer to the estimate of 50 MPH by morning.  We had blown in just in time, praise the Lord!

Nearly 4 days have passed since we got home and I have yet to clear out, clean out the rest of the trailer as needed after a week of travel.  Steve completed the first 5 loads of laundry and about 3 more are left to go.  I have been sick in bed for most of the past 3 days, sleeping in late to recover from the nasties which characterize this wretched illness.

Over a dozen doses of a new anti-microbial treatment (Biocidin LSF) have brought both relief and a flare up of symptoms at times:  begun when travelling and continued back home when seeking a new direction, new relief, new hope for a future without illness.  Two violent convulsive episodes followed on Friday after an appointment with a new specialist and a new lab test, respectively.  Many more filled the 2 days that followed.  Perhaps this week (and 2 weeks shy of the 4-year anniversary of the first waking seizure attack) there will be an answer to end this suffering?  The odds are wearing thin lately for sure.

Yet through it all, I am reminded of the 3 days that my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ died and paid the price for all the negative numbers, the heartaches from what is not right in our world.  He knows the mathematics of it all greater than I can ever imagine and holds it all tenderly in the palms of His hands, ready to redeem it for good when He comes again in glory.  I choose to believe the promise that His precious thoughts towards me and you too, Gentle Reader, outnumber the grains of sand on the earth (Psalm139), giving us hope for a better tomorrow.  For as He thinks fondly of the ones He loves, He also promises to wipe away our every tear someday (Rev 21:4) when the time is right:  when time is no longer numbered in eternity with our Heavenly Father, God.

And that my friend is a story worth writing about.  A world without limits.  A love beyond measure.  I just hope that when all is said and done, when it is time for rejoicing in the heavenly realms, that you will be there with me there too?  Let not these numbers be wasted!  Won’t you accept the love of Christ into your heart this day, this night too?  Oh how I hope so dear one.

With love, JJ