The Reality of Chronic Lyme Disease

Lyme is a strange beast.

There’s good days among the bad, but every so often, there’s a REALLY bad day. A day that makes you wonder if you’ll see the next. Do people without Lyme have those?

I don’t say what I say for sympathy or attention. I’m too old for that crap. These posts are all for you. Yeap, you, the person reading this right now. I want you to check for ticks when you go outside. I want you to do everything in your power to boost your immunity. But also, for the fundamental reason I started this blog years ago, I want you to go outside and LIVE.

I wasn’t feeling great yesterday morning. Nothing alarming considering my current state of affairs, but I still opted to stay home and rest. After scarfing down some activated charcoal, things were looking up. Super! But it was still a day I was due to increase my dose of treatments. So I did. Although the charcoal tamed my belly, it did nothing for my appetite, so I hadn’t eaten all day.

On top of upping my dose, it was also needle night. Suffice to say I learned a few lessons this time.

When I stabbed myself in the butt, everything was normal at first, until the room started to get a little spinny. That’s fine, I figured I’ll just yank the needle out and take a breather. Don’t do that. Blood will splatter.

Once I regained my composure, I stabbed myself again to finish administering the med. This time sitting on the floor.  Holy moly, that wasn’t a very good idea! (I don’t always claim to have good ideas… just adventures.) The room got sooooooo spinny this time. I could barely hold myself up to attempt to puke up the big nothing burger that wasn’t in my belly.

Yeah maybe it’s all TMI. I’m past the point of caring. (Besides, you should hear the stuff I don’t tell you!)  (Actually no. No you absolutely shouldn’t.)

Then I started to sweat out of every pore in my body.  Pores I didn’t even know I had. Collapsing into a disgusting sweaty, bloody heap on my bathroom floor, with my onesie around my ankles, (don’t judge, onesies are sooooooo comfy!), and a needle half stuck in my butt, I had a brief moment where it dawned on me….

This is it, this is how I’m going to die.

Face down in vomit on the floor with a needle in my bum.  Honestly, I never in a million years figured THAT would be the way it happened. Falling out of a tree? Mauled by a bear? Something newsworthy, memorable, and cool for certain.  But not like this. Not in my fluffy snowflake onesie.

I always do any treatments with my cell phone and an EpiPen. Always. Today for some reason the phone was in the next room, and I couldn’t move. Could I scream loud enough to get help? Also nope.

Thankfully these crazy moments eventually rectify themselves. After about 30 minutes of laying in my own goo, I was fine to get up. Stubbornly I took the rest of my daily treatments and there were no further disasters.

I wasn’t going to share, but after telling my good friend and hearing her reaction saying she was horrified yet couldn’t stop laughing, I figured why not. You have to laugh sometimes. Laughing gets me through a lot of things.

So… when you’re out on the trails, try to picture passing out after a needle, in your onesie, and tuck those socks into your pants and check yourself for ticks!

I WILL see you out there again someday.

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