On the edge of nobody’s empire. 

As I came into consciousness this morning and rolled over, before I’d opened my eyes, I felt the room tip sideways and then slosh back again. I tried to look at my phone to see the time and my eyes wouldn’t track properly. Like marbles rolling uncontrolled, I couldn’t make my vision focus on one point. And, in an instant, the fear collapses in on me, crushing my lungs, sucking all the air and hope out of the room. I wonder if the vertigo is caused by the way I slept – something physical tweaked in my neck – or my new thyroid medication that I started yesterday, or did I do too much decorating the tree? Was it the drop of milk in my tea? I wonder how long it will last and does it signal another relapse. Having the borders of my world change from the downstairs sitting room to the four walls of my bedroom seems immeasurably cruel. Facebook is a lifeline normally, but torturous today. Christmas cheer, family fun, laughing faces, out and about doing things, going places, making new memories. One friend is going to a play in NYC, others are going ice skating in Glasgow, and a photo of a pumpkin spice latte sends me over the edge.

Every day, every hour, that my headache isn’t too bad or my brain isn’t too muddied and labouring, I focus on a future where I may be able to leave the house, interact with friends, have time elapse without a constant focus on my malfunctioning body and precarious health. But, as soon as there is a shift – my sleep disappears, my muscles are poisoned, this vertigo tilts the horizon away from me with the slightest movement and the room spins sickeningly even while still – despair eclipses everything. I feel like I’m buried alive, dragging my fingernails along the wooden coffin, screaming at the top of my lungs, while people deafly live and laugh six feet above.

This is where I was this morning when Jen Brea posted this song by Belle & Sebastian. I didn’t know the singer, Stuart Murdoch, had severe M.E. I needed this today.

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As I was about to publish this post, my two dogs just got past the gate to the upstairs and both bounded onto my carefully kept-clean bed with muddy boots from tearing around the garden, barking at the passers-by. It is the first time that they’ve been on my bed in three months and it felt like how it must be to have excited children, brimming with life-force, jump into your bed on Christmas morning, holding fistfuls of treats that crumble all over the sheets and wearing smiles of oblivious delight. Yes, their visit caused my world to teeter-totter even more violently, but it also lifted the heartache a little. This too shall pass.

O Tannenbaum, O Tannenbaum.

A second addendum to my last post:

So, yes, we spent $20 on a voucher for a real Christmas tree and then $150 on an artificial tree that smelled up the whole room and then another $150 on another artificial tree that I accidentally ordered off Amazon, but, in the end, the $3.97 tomato cage is slender and beautiful, holds all our ornaments, and we’re so thrilled with it’s subtly, the lack of smell, watering, dropping needles, killing of trees and EASE of set up. Can’t believe we didn’t do this sooner and we’re never looking back.

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Oh, Christmas Tree. Oh, Christmas Tree…

We’ve always had a real Christmas tree; decorating it and wrapping presents to place under it has been half the joy of Christmas for me. A few weeks ago, I bought an Amazon Local deal: $20 for $40 to spend at a nearby Christmas tree lot and then I realised… we probably shouldn’t get a real tree this year. I am reacting to everything lately and I’ve been bothered by the small tree in my meditation room and the soil it sits in. Last Christmas was the lowest point in my ME journey so far and I’ve gone downhill since the summer, so I really don’t want to aggravate things by having a smelly, potentially moldy tree in the house for a month (most asthma and allergy sites I looked at recommended against a real tree). I even asked in my MCAD group and the vast majority of those that answered get a fake tree.

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So, we bought a fat 7.5′-tall artificial tree from my friend for $150. He said it was used once and kept in a back bedroom all year. My husband opened it up and we let it sit and air out on the porch for 5 days and then he moved furniture and broke his back bringing it inside, setting it up, and tweaking every branch and twig for an hour to make it full and beautiful. When I came through my vapour barrier from upstairs, before I’d even looked into the room and seen it was up, I knew the tree was there. It was like walking into a wall of smell. I couldn’t identify the smell. It wasn’t a plastic smell and it didn’t smell like dust or manufacturing stench, but it was a very large smell. I’d go into the kitchen to get something to eat and, as I walked back into the sitting room, I would stop short as I hit that fetor again. Over and over, the heaviness of it took me by surprise. My throat was burning, I got headachy… Normal issues for me, yes, but I felt like it was the tree. Or, at least, having those symptoms while being enveloped in that smell, correlated them in my brain. To add insult to injury, it is a really high quality, pre-lighted tree and the lights are SO INCREDIBLY BRIGHT in our small room, that it hurts both of our eyes and leaves spots in front of our vision. I thought bright lights were a selling point, but not in my world, of course. Central immune system sensitization is like an evil super power.

My husband, stony-faced, took it back outside while I apologised profusely for my fucked up body and my inability to do any of the heavy lifting. The guilt can be all-consuming.

I spent the next three hours shopping online for hypoallergenic artificial trees or green/healthy trees to no avail. Then I went on Ebay to look for metal trees and found these two for $100:

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Scentless (hopefully), washable… I started to get hopeful again that there could be something pretty to hang our ornaments on and create a festive feeling. I emailed them to my husband, bothered him at work to take off his rain gear (he’s a landscaper in Seattle) and look at the links (he hated the scroll one, but thought we might be able to do something with the spiral one)…

But then I found these metal trees on a different site:

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Twice as much, but maybe a good investment? I texted my husband again. There are no gold spiral ones left and only 2 black ones! We have to hurry to make a decision! Then I realised that they didn’t even guarantee Christmas delivery. So, best case scenario, we’d get it a few days before Christmas, which just doesn’t seem worth it when the whole pretty and festive lead-up to the day is what I enjoy (plus, it takes me weeks to decorate a tree with my energy level — a few ornaments a day) and, worst case scenario, it’d arrive after Christmas and be useless to us this year… and then probably go on sale in January.

I told my husband forget it, we’re shit out of luck.

Theeenn… I checked my emails. Somehow, while shopping for trees on my phone in my bed at 1am last night, my finger had hit “one click ordering” on Amazon (a really evil option that doesn’t bring you to a different screen to look at your shopping cart or confirm your selection, it just orders it — in “one click”) and we have an artificial “pencil” tree coming in the mail. I emailed the sellers because it said it hadn’t been sent yet: “Accidental order! Please cancel!” They answered that it couldn’t be cancelled and we’d have to pay to return it. To add insult to injury again, it’s not even on Amazon Prime and won’t get here until December 20th. And, of course, it’ll probably smell. And it’s made in China. So, we’re out $320 and our porch will be crowded with fake trees and, even if I manage to sell them on Craig’s List, my husband will be the one who has to deal with moving the trees, meeting the buyers etc. I honestly feel like I could take this all in stride, have fun getting creative and see the lighter side of this, except I’m just so guilty that my husband has to do all the work!

My new plan is this. I’m sure my landscaper hubby has a tall ladder:

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Addendum: Just as I was about to hit publish on this blog post, my husband called me and said, “I’m in Home Depot. The artificial trees are all $300+ and most have fake scented pine cones. I’m standing in front of the tomato cages. They’re 5′ tall and cost $3.97.” Hahaha! Hell yes! I had sent him this photo as a joke:

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We both laughed at the fact that we are going to have a wire tree that cost $3.97 and now I think this will actually be really ridiculous and fun. Happy Christmas! :)

Doctors, Tests and Direction.

So, the MD that my husband and I have seen since 2007 has left her practice abruptly and I’m quite sad because we had a great relationship and mutual respect. She trusted me and would run tests that I requested if I had good reasons. She also knew me before I was sick and that was very important to me. She knew me when I was bouncing off the walls with energy and happy. She saw me a week before ME hit for a check up and I told her my only problem was sore muscles which I attributed to sitting at a desk after so many years walking the floors of restaurants. She witnessed the abrupt change in my abilities when all the other doctors I’ve seen have nothing to compare my current level of health to.

Now my two doctors are naturopaths: Dr. Erin and Dr. Kim. I had follow-ups with both of them in the last 10 days. Dr. Erin has put me on 25 mg of DHEA and progesterone. They’re topical, compounded only with coconut oil, nothing else. She’s hoping these will feed down both pathways to raise all the other hormones that are low.

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And by “pathways”, I mean, instead of giving me just Pregnenolone (at the top of the “map”) and letting my body do with it what it wants, the DHEA and progesterone insure that (in theory) I’m feeding all branches of hormone production:

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My thyroid hormones continue to be low, even though I almost doubled my dose a few months ago, so I’m changing to compounded T3 and T4. Dr. Erin doesn’t want me to try NDT (natural desiccated thyroid from pigs) because I’m so reactive right now, but she’s hoping compounded meds without the crappy gluten- and dairy-derived fillers will help me absorb the hormones better. I’m really nervous about the change because I’ve taken the same generic pills every morning for 6 years — well before I got sick.

My salivary cortisol test showed high levels throughout the whole day, especially at night. However, Dr. Erin said she thought functionally I was still low, her theory being that my body is compensating for something and that cortisol is either being converted to a less active form or receptors are down-regulated, which results in my body needing to produce more to get the same results. She also wants me to start humic acid (for chronic infections) and a homeopathic lotion to rub into my sternum which can supposedly desensitise my body and help reactivity. Not sure how much faith I have in homeopathy, but there’s no harm in it, other than the cost. I’ve also been told to start daily “hydrotherapy” (basically, hot and cold towels to boost immune function) and oiling my body to absorb additional fat (some serious old wives’ shit going on here).

Dr. Kim ran a bunch of blood tests. The good news is my CBC, metabolic panel, folate, iron and vitamin D are all within normal range (the latter two I would like to be higher). The bad news is, total immunoglobulin and all 4 subclasses are even lower than they were when Dr. Chia tested them. I also had high levels of Mycoplasma Pneumoniae IgG, HHV6 IgG (which I already knew) and she said I was “dripping in EBV.” Gross.

The final blow was candida is high. Those who know me, know I have dreaded the day I was tested for candida and purposely didn’t bring it up with the last 30 doctors because I don’t want to face my sugar addiction. Dr. Kim isn’t insisting I go on a strict no-sugar diet, god love her, because I think she recognises my need for the joy it provides and, really, I try to be responsible — a bit of dark chocolate, ice cream, some honey, jam, fruit, dates… It’s not like the good ol’ days where I could eat a Dairy Queen Blizzard or a whole purple Yorkie without thinking twice. She is putting me on a prescription anti-fungal, Nystatin, a pulsed dose — 4 days on, 3 days off.

I am waiting to hear from insurance about sub-cutaneous IgG (because I’m too scared to start with IVIG) and, in the meantime, I am starting to supplement copper, low dose B-complex, additional B6 and B1, increasing Thorne Trace Minerals to twice a day and magnesium glycinate to 4 times a day, as well as homemade electrolyte water all day long.

I’m hoping and praying that I will feel like a different person once my hormones and thyroid are balanced. Then my blood pressure will come up and my brain will work better, headaches will dissipate, my immune system will be able to suppress the infections, sleep will get better, reactions will fade, fatigue will lift and we’ll all live happily ever after!!

Thanksgiving Tsunami

The last 10 days have been a bit harrowing. Different symptoms crashing down like waves each day. First let me tell you about our early Thanksgiving dinner with just the two of us.

Everything was made from scratch with the freshest ingredients. The only thing we didn’t do is grind the almond flour ourselves. Here’s what we had:

The turkey was pastured, free-range, organic, fresh (not frozen) from Rain Shadow Meats, our specialty butcher here in Seattle. They had 400 turkeys in a truck parked outside their shop and my husband tells me it was a chaotic scene picking it up. The smallest bird they had was 12 pounds and we didn’t want to store it, waiting for Thursday because of histamines, so we put it in the oven as soon as my husband got home. He roasted it upside down, so it’s a funny looking photo (and these aren’t the greatest photos becasue it was dark in our house):

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I eat roasted root veg and mashed sweet potatoes and Brussels sprouts and other green veg all the time, so I decided, for a treat, to have a “stuffing” and cranberry sauce to go with my turkey, while my husband made himself potatoes and corn. The stuffing was based on Mickey Trescott’s recipe, but I left out the mushrooms and cranberries. I added fresh rosemary, parsley and a few cut up dried cherries for a zing every few mouthfuls. I also made a paleo “cornbred” (no corn in it, but it has that grainy quality from the almond flour) and added cubes to the stuffing becasue — stuffing without bread in it? Really?

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The bread itself was delicious and I had a piece slathered in butter, while my husband got to eat those soft, squishy pull-apart rolls that I love so much.

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I also made cranberry sauce from fresh, organic cranberries, fresh ginger, apple juice, orange juice and a touch of honey. I have never made cranberry sauce before and had no idea how easy it was. Why would anyone buy it in a tin?

IMG_20141123_184912 The gravy was made from chicken bone broth, herbs and onions. You blend it with a hand blender and the onions thicken it.

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All in all, it was a lovely meal and would have been even lovlier if we had been surrounded by friends and family and laughter and chatting.

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Then the tsunami hit.

12 hours after I wrote my last happy, chatty post, I awoke from sleep at 3am, the sickest I have ever been in my life. I know there’s a lot of “sickest I have ever been”s in my world, but this truly was. Not once, in 3 years of ME, when all my worst symptoms happen at night, have I woken my husband to help me. Well, Sunday night, I had no choice. I crawled on my hands and knees to the toilet, shaking violently and drenched in cold sweat. Cold sweats are diffferent than the night sweats I experience. They are what happens right before I collapse with vasovagal syncope. So, it scared me. I thought I was going to lose consciousness at any moment and I was so parched I needed water asap. I crawled back to the bedroom and got my phone and woke my husband sleeping downstairs. He got me water, salt, my blood sugar tester, my blood pressure monitor, thermometer, charcoal and Benadryl. I didn’t know what was happening, honestly. How could this be a reaction to the healthist and freshest Thanksgiving dinner I’d ever had? What has happened to my body that I now react to anything random?

All my vitals were low, but not low enough to be causing the sickness. Once again, I felt poisoned, only this time I hadn’t taken Cromolyn or any other new drug or supplement. My gut told me it was the onion gravy. It was a lot of onions and I know I have digestive issues with raw onions. It could have been a reaction to the onions themselves or it could have been a form of sulfur poisoning. The meal was very sulfur-heavy and I know my CBS mutation* causes problems because it’s shown up in my ammonia, taurine and homocysteine blood tests.

Yes, when it comes to histamine, it could have been the small amount of orange juice in the cranberry sauce or the few dried cherries or, if you belive my nutritionist, the caulifower in the stuffing, but I don’t think so. I eat dried fruit every day and I’ve eaten an orange without problems. Besides, it didn’t feel like one of my histamine reactions. It was much, much worse. If it wasn’t onion/sulphur poisoning, I would say it was the almond flour. I have reintroduced almond butter, but not almonds themselves or almond flour.

I never got back to sleep that night and rested carefully the whole of Monday. After saying in my last post that no matter how I’m feeling I make it to see my physical therapist, I had my husband call and cancel our appointment that day. I ate like a shaky, poisonened sick person, trying to choose foods that would have the least impact on my body in every way,  but this started the next symptom wave: blood sugar issues. I had rice, carrots, cucumber and sweet potato for breakfast. My blood sugar was 70 before I ate and 170 an hour after I ate. I had a chicken salad, parsnips, butternut squash drenched in butter, but stayed away from the chips and chocloate and broth I eat every day.

Tuesday, I was 2 pounds lighter — after one day of not eating the high-caloric crap I snack on to maintain my weight. And my blood sugar continued to crash. After years of hypoglycemia, I can usually feel the shakes when my sugar drops into the 70s, but it dropped into the low 60s a few times before I caught it. I increased my protein and starchy veg, I added olive oil, plantain crackers, fresh herbs and lots of pomegranate. I even had to go downstairs to the kitchen at 1am, after I had brushed, flossed and had my mouth guard in to cook up a beef burger and sweet potato. Exhausting.

Wednesday, I felt more stable, but very ME-ish: a bad headache and my spine and muscles felt infected and swollen.

Thursday (Thanksgiving) brought on the next new symptom wave: my blood pressure kept tanking alarmingly. No matter how much salt I ate or electrolytes I drank, with legs up and compression stockings on, it would not come up and stabilise. The best I achieved was 83/55.

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My Riley always knows when his Mama isn't feeling well. <3

My Riley always knows when his Mama isn’t feeling well. <3

This continued on into Friday and, then, towards the end of that night, my whole body was in pain – joints and muscles – which I haven’t experienced in quite a while. My back and my hands felt arthritic.

Saturday, my blood pressure was better, but then came the sore throat and hoarse voice, making it difficult to talk. That night, I awoke 3 hours after going to bed with night sweats and never went back to sleep.

Sunday came a wave of neurological symptoms: poor cognitive abilities, worsening tinnitus, slurring my words, weak muscles, droopy eyes, my numb “buzzy head” symptoms (which signal I need to basically ctrl+alt+delete my brain immeadiately) and a cracking headache.

Monday, my throat and head pain had ebbed, but now it was my heart’s turn. It was hammering all day and fit to burst whenever I moved.

These last few days have been menstrual hell, which is generally an increase in my typical ME symptoms. I would honestly take all the other (probably more dangerous) reactions over the ME-inflamed, painful, exhausted days that feel like someone has pumped every muscle full of poisonous led…  These are symptoms I can’t fight through. There is no remedy, no relief. They make me feel like I cannot go on living if they are prolonged and they affect my mood horribly. I can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, and I get scared and weepy.

But, the good news is, today I’m stiff and crampy, but better, although the insomnia and nightmares have continued all week and I’m in desperate need of a decent sleep. I’ve been eating a very low-sulfur and low-histamine diet since the sickness that kicked this all off and am completely fed up with squash, lettuce, sweet potato and parsnip. My kindom for some kale! Never thought I’d say that. I tested the turkey, turkey bone broth and orange with no reactions. I tried the almond flour bread, but it was inconclusive (this time of the month caused confounding variables), so I might try again next week. I ate a lot of almond butter with no problem and, today, I had cauliflower (my first sulfurous veg in 10 days) with no problem. I still have to try the stuffing and cranberry sauce, but continue to suspect the onion gravy. Such detective work!

The even better news is, we managed to get out to the cemetery for half an hour to watch our pups run in the thin dusting of snow (yes, SNOW!) and, for that, I am truly grateful.

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Onwards and upwards. I hope things will ease up until after Christmas.

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*”Increased CBS enzyme activity would act to convert homocysteine more efficiently to cysteine, thereby lowering homocysteine levels. Ultimately individuals with the CBS C699T upregulation of the CBS enzyme can generate more sulfur breakdown products with potential sulfur toxicity issues, enhanced ammonia production, and a lack of glutathione.” ~ Dr. Amy Yasko’s book, “Genetic Bypass”

November Update

[Written Sunday morning:] Every morning I get up and vow to write some of the things crawling around my head and gnawing at my brain and then every day disappears into other things: cooking, feeling like crap, interacting with friends in my facebook group, reading, researching, tv… Today, I’m sequestered in one room while the cleaning lady tackles the rest of the house and I want to do a wee catch up.

Two months after the horrific Cromolyn-induced crash, I’m feeling much better. Not as good as I was beforehand, but so much better than I anticipated I would. If it takes 3 or 4 months to get back to where I was, that will be great–much better than the years I thought it would take (or the never I feared might happen). When I got home from the AirBnB rentals, my husband had cleaned out my bedroom: no furniture besides the bed and bedside table, no more clothes or books, everything hoovered and wiped down with ammonia. He put a vapor barrier up at the top of the stairs–one of those plastic doorways used in construction sites or the house in the film E.T.–and the upstairs is strictly a dog-free zone. Oh, it breaks my heart not to be able to snuggle with my kids and it crushes me when they hear me moving around and whine at the gate we have across the stairs. Another downside is, I’m doing far fewer preemptive rests and meditations because I don’t want to leave them and go upstairs. It used to be our routine to head upstairs a few times a day and lie down. My Little Guy had the times programmed in his brain and would bark to come in from outside and look at me like, “Let’s go, Mama! You need to meditate.” That doesn’t happen anymore and my brain and body are feeling the effects. However, I will begrudgingly admit that it is really reassuring to know that I am spending 12 to 15 hours a day in minimal dander and dog hair. I wake up feeling cleaner internally. That has got to help my poor struggling body, so I’m very grateful for all the hard work my husband put into dedogifying the upstairs.

What it used to be like:

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What I see now from the top of the stairs:

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I haven’t been sleeping very well. Much better than when I was horribly sick, of course, but not as well as I was in the last two rentals. My sleep in that last rental was amazing– I would close my eyes at 11pm and open them at 7am. A few nights that I was there, I woke up after 8am! Never, ever, ever have I slept straight through for over 8 hours without waking up from crazy dreams or painful bones and muscles. It was glorious… besides the fact that I felt poisoned by the new Ikea wardrobes. I wonder if the off-gassing from the new furniture was somehow drugging me into a stupour? Also part of the problem is my apnea devices. I continue to avoid the CPAP because it wakes me up constantly, but the new oral appliance has its own issues. I got the Narval by Resmed, made by a 3D printer.

The white one is the bendy, light Narval. The pink one is the heavy, rigid nightmare I was trying to use before.

The white one is the bendy, light Narval. The pink one is the heavy, rigid nightmare I was trying to use before.

It is incredibly thin and light and bendy, which is everything I wanted and I’m able to fall asleep while wearing it… BUT. … I have worse TMJ issues than I realised and it causes so much pain. Every day, my jaw hurts, my temples ache, my head hurts and then, about once a week, I have a really rough, tense grinding night and I wake up feeling like my jaw is dislocated. It is painful to move and chew and clicks alarmingly. This can’t be good. So, I keep sleeping with no oral appliance or CPAP and I can definitely feel the difference in how I feel in the morning–less rested, more pain, but my jaw in tact. So, what am I to do?

I’ve started seeing my “physical therapist” again. Aka Magic Fingers. He is so wonderful for me. After a 3-month hiatus, the day I returned happened to be the day after he finished a course on strain-counterstrain for the nervous system. The teacher of whatever magic he does flew out to Seattle from the East Coast and trained a group of 30 practitioners. He said, “I’m one of only 30 in the world that have been trained to do this and you are the number one person I want to work on because your nervous system is a mess.” I keep my appointments with him no matter what. I even went last week when he was getting over a cold.

Speaking of colds, it has been 3 years and 19 weeks since I last had a cold. I’m amazed by that. I still live in fear of the day I catch a cold, especially since Dr. Chia said one virus could wipe me out and set back my recovery significantly, if not permanently. You may remember that he recommended I get IVIG to bolster my immune system and protect myself from all you sickies out there. Well, my MD referred me to University of Washington Immunology and they turned me down because my total IgG wasn’t low enough. So, I talked to my ND, Dr. W, and their clinic isn’t licensed to do it. On a whim, I went to see another ND, Dr. I, at a different clinic–mainly because they take insurance and I wanted to have a back-up doctor if I had to stop seeing Dr. W (who does not take insurance and, even with discounts for being unemployed, costs me too much money). The first thing Dr. I said when I came in was, “I think you need IgG.” Oh, bless her. There is hope for this treatment! But let me back up…

So, this new clinic requested all my test results in advance, they photocopied the entire binder and the doctor had reviewed it before I got there. They asked me to run my 23andMe results through MTHFRsupport.com and send them the results (so far, I’ve had 3 doctors tell me they know about methylation and nutrigenomics, but not a single one actually has addressed it. See some of my MTHFRsupport.com Genetic Variance Report here). The clinic has an IV infusion room, looking all dim and cozy, with plush recliners and blankets. They have a hyperbaric oxygen chamber! Something I have been curious about trying for over a year since I read Dr. Deckoff-Jones’s blog. And the clinic is 4 minutes from my house. Score. Dr. I ordered a load more tests and is willing to consider sub-cutaneous immunoglobulin first since I’m a scardy-cat about jumping right into IVIG (assuming we can get either of them approved by insurance, that is). A few days after our appointment, I went to the lab for a blood draw because she wanted to get updated tests and I see her again next week.

It'd be nice if they left some blood in my body.

It’d be nice if they left some blood in my body.

Speaking of test results (which can all be found here), I never mentioned the hormone panel and blood test results ordered by Dr. W in the last few months [bold type is for my benefit, so I can access this info easily when I look back). My varicella zoster IgG, IgM and HSV IgM were all positive. All coxsackie A viruses were high and all coxsackie B except for 3 and 4 (although 4 was high in Dr. Chia’s tests). EBV IgG was high indicating a reactivated infection. My total IgG was even lower than when Dr. Chia tested and, as I mentioned before, my thyroid was tanked: TSH, T3 and T4 all low. But the hormone panel was slightly alarming: almost everything was low: DHEA, progesterone, testosterone, estrone, aldosterone, androsterone, pregnanediol, tetrahydrocortisol and on and on. Not sure how concerned I should be, but Dr. W put me on topical DHEA (about 5mg rubbed into my abdomen in the mornings) and supposedly that should help something. It’s been a month now and the only difference that I’ve noticed is my period was 3 weeks late after I started it. My period has pretty much been every 28-29 days for 25 years. I just descovered today that it has MSM in it, which I’m not meant to have because of my sulfur issue. I’ll ask her about it when I see her on Wednesday.

So here’s what I’m taking currently:
Topical DHEA
Probiotics
Riboflavin-5-phosphate
Trace Minerals
Vitamin C
Vitamin D3
Vitamin K2
Fish oil
1/3 of a capsule of B complex #6
Magnesium
Biotin sporadically
Zinc sporadically
Charcoal sporadically
Quercetin sporadically
Gentian/Wormwood sporadically

I also started oil pulling a few times a week (when I remember) against my better judgement, but my nutritionist thought I should give it a try, so, why not?

I try to use my dry skin brush about once a week.

I am in my third month of Restasis and my eyes are worse than ever. They are never not bothering me. Swollen, itchy, tingly, burning, blurry, gritty. Always.

I have a new pillow, which is a god-send for my bursitits in my shoulders, but I had to let it off-gas outside for over a month. It still slightly concerns me, so I emailed Dr. Bob and here’s what he said: “We do not use flame retardants or any other harmful chemicals. On the Amazon site you can see our product obtained the Oeko-Tex Standard 100 Certification. This is a difficult certification to receive and shows this testing lab certifies the pillow is free of harmful chemicals. Oeko is the best know lab and certification for products to be free of harmful chemicals.” Hmmm… well, this thing stinks and I hope it isn’t off-gassing into my brain.

I love love LOVE having short hair. Can’t believe I didn’t do it sooner. Hair is such a nightmare when you’re sick and the cut disguises all the hair loss in the front.

Grainy photo, but you get the gist.

Grainy photo, but you get the gist.

What else?

I’m still on a modified AIP (autoimmune paleo) plus low-histamine-ish diet. I am not strict on AIP or low-histamine becasue I’m always trying to reintroduce foods back into my diet so I can have as many nutrients as possible and don’t develop even more sesntivities. I constantly warn everyone on my Facebook group not to take an elimination diet lightly and add back as many foods as possible as quickly as possible. It becomes a trap. Eating fewer foods causes a host of new issues (in my case, gastroparesis, worsening constipation and odd reactions that I never had before embarking on AIP). Also, the longer you don’t eat them, the harder they are to get back — both physically and mentally. Hence the reason I never eliminated ice cream, chocolate and packaged chips. God forbid I lose my unhealthy addictions. I need the soul food (although, I do really think one of these days I have to see if I feel better without sugar in my life. It’s just that it was easier to quit gluten, dairy, drinking alcohol and smoking than it seems to be to even contemplate eliminating sugar for a few weeks). One of these days I’ll write a post on what I eat on this diet, but, in the meantime, you can see photos on my Instagram account, if you’re interested (minus all the crap I eat–I’m trying to inspire people, after all, not cause them inflammation).

We ordered a free-range, organic, recently-harvested, fresh (not frozen) turkey for pick up today for Thanksgiving, but, to keep histamines low, we have to roast it right away (and then my husband freezes the leftover meat for me and makes bone broth from the carcass), so we are celebrating Thanksgiving today. We were going to have a get-together with our friends, Z and J, and my sister and her boyfriend (hence the cleaning lady), but it fell through, so the two of us are going to sit down to a 12-pound turkey alone. It’s ok. I’m thankful that I was feeling almost well enough to have some people over for the first time in 2.5 years. I’m thankful that I still have some people in my life to invite over. I’m thankful that I will have a yummy dinner and I don’t even mind that almost every meal I eat looks like Thanksgiving dinner and there really won’t be any different fun stuff. At least I’ll have turkey instead of chicken. And maybe the tryptophan will help me sleep!

Speaking of food, I’m starving and the cleaning lady is in the kitchen. I don’t want to get in her way or have to chat, so I’m trying to think of what else I can tell you all.

I made it to the freezing cold cemetery on the scooter for about 40 minutes a few weeks ago, wearing about 5 layers and carrying a hot water bottle. It was literally my first time spending some time outside in a month. The winter is hard that way. It really feels unhealthy to be trapped inside 24 hours a day. I have to make an effort to put on my coat and hat and go out into the garden. Please remind me!

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We bought a proper comfy dog bed for the kids seeing as they are arthritic and bony (it was on sale, has no fire retardants and is returnable at any time, even if used). It’s the size of a small country. 110-pound Bowie is thrilled when he can actually lie in it and Little Guy doesn’t relegate him to the crappy small bed.

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I found ants in my room one morning. They were running in droves all over the floor. It took days and days to kill them and there are still carcasses strewn about. It was pretty gross.

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I’m still going to therapy. It’s been great recently. He’s very interested in cultural history as a jumping-off point and that is helpful for someone who mourns the loss of Ireland and regularly starts blubbering over how powerfully I miss it.
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I have a lot of issues to work out there– An American by birth who never questioned that I was Irish, but wound up back in America and then felt rejected by the country I love… Marrying a man with an identical upbringing and thinking, “how perfect! We can relocate back home,” but it’s not home to him anymore… staying in America by default, year after year, but always wishing I was in Ireland and planning the eventual return… and then getting a disease that stops me from returning, so I have no choice, anyway. My therapist asked me if I’d be able to manage my illness better if I were living in Dublin and I said yes because my mother, aunt and best friend live there. And so does my heart. But it’s a difficult place to live and we’d have no money, so that’s not the answer.

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Ok, I can’t avoid it any longer, I have to eat. And that was really dredging the bottle of the barrel for stuff to tell you about.

I’m thankful for all of you, too, dear readers. You have no idea. Love and thanks and nom nom nom gobble gobble to everyone this week. X

Día de los Muertos

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I can’t remember what was on tv. I was listening casually while I sat, writing Christmas cards on the other side of the room. I had five half-boxes left over from the years before and I was determined to have all of them written on time because I’m notoriously late with cards. I decided to start writing them on Halloween night because I could see our gate from the dining table and, when the kids arrived, I could dash outside with the bowl of chocolates before my dogs heard anything and went into cacophonous protection mode. I was hunched over, scribbling and, when I straightened, I felt this ripple go through my body. I’ll never forget that feeling. Like a ghost had walked through me. Like unearthly cold hands had reached inside my body and stroked downwards, from head to toes. A momentary shudder through my brain and nervous system that I never imagined would settle into each muscle and fiber, growing, mutating, eroding. I think of it now and wonder what was happening on a cellular level while I was nonchalantly scribbling notes.

I said, “Oh, I’ve been at this too long” and went to the armchair, curled up fetal, and fell asleep. An hour later, I awoke and knew something wasn’t right. Although it hadn’t really started yet, it felt more serious than a cold or flu. I felt unstable on a systemic level and thought it might turn into one of my syncopal episodes where I would collapse, pale and clammy, with a barely detectable blood pressure and pulse. I said to my husband, “You have to come to bed now. Something might happen and I won’t be able to make it down the stairs to get you.” Those were the days when we used to share a room. Before my illness became my bedfellow.

I spent the next four hours colder than I’ve ever been in my life. I was fully dressed, in bed with a hot water bottle, teeth chattering, shaking so violently, little moans were squeezed from my chest. I vividly remember the eternity it took me to move my hand out from under the duvet in an effort to cover one freezing ear. I thought if my hand left the relative warmth of the blankets, it might freeze solid and shatter into pieces. Oh shit, shit, shit. I’m sick. This is a doozy. I couldn’t ever remember having something like this, but it reminded me of my husband’s horrid battle with chicken pox. He was the sickest person I’d ever seen.

I drifted into sleep, curled in a tiny ball against the headboard, holding my knees, and, when I woke up, I was drenched. I had never experienced even slight night sweats and I couldn’t believe my body contained so much fluid. It was as if someone had poured a bucket of water on me. I could slap my stomach and make little splashes of sweat. And I was so relieved. I had assumed I would battle this virus for days, but the fever had broken after only a few hours and it would be a quick recovery. How could I imagine that I would continue to experience this almost every night for the next two years, losing lifeforce into my bed sheets, becoming weaker and weaker?

I spent the last of the night drifting in and out of fever dreams, waking up intermittently, sweaty and shaky. My husband snoozed peacefully beside me. At one point, my bowels cramped up and I wondered if it was just some atypical food poisoning event. In the morning, I decided I was on the mend, showered, got dressed and went to work. Because that’s what you do… So, that’s what I did. You’d have to be on your death bed to call in sick and, besides, I wanted to save my days off for Christmas.

*****

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I’ve thought about that night a lot over the last three years. The moment my immune system shifted permanently. My utter naïveté about what could happen to a body. Although I’d taken many premed classes and had quite a few health problems in my life, it really never occurred to me that I wasn’t unbreakable. Or, at least, if I broke, I assumed I’d be able to be fixed if I put in the work. I had been diagnosed with Graves Disease a few years earlier, told it would kill me without treatment, had radioiodine ablation on my thyroid and had to avoid people for two weeks. And, during all of this, I never took a day off of work. It also never crossed my mind to get a second opinion, talk to others with the same condition or change my eating and sleeping habits. I just popped the radioactive pill and got back to work. The same month, I was told I had reactivated EBV by a naturopath and was advised to cut back my work schedule from 55 hours a week to 20… Ha! I’m sure you can guess how that went. I never saw that doctor again. I was too busy.

I had never been intimately exposed to chronic illness, so I was completely ignorant to the toll it could take on a family. I imagined it would be hard, of course, but you can never understand without experiencing it. Everyone in my family is healthy, even my extended family. We have our demons, but they’re addictions, mental health problems, typical old age conditions. I had my first major bout of angeoedema when I was 23 and went into anaphylaxis for the first time when I was 28. My siblings are all in their 30s and 40s and haven’t had more than the occasional cold. My parents are in their 70s and both still work and are active and social.

I was a sick baby. People would famously stare at the itty bitty girl with the old man’s cough. If I’d understood what could happen to a body, if I’d been less in denial, if I’d been less concerned about proving my bullet-proof toughness, I might have looked back on my childhood and my chest infections, thyroid disease, vasovagal syncope and all the symptoms that turned out to be mast cell activation disorder and tried to make changes to protect myself. If I’d understood what can happen to a body, I might have tried to nurture what was obviously a sensitive system, armour myself against external assaults and preserve what was still working. I could have eaten food that didn’t come from a restaurant kitchen. I could have taken a vitamin once in a while and stopped drinking all of my water out of cheap plastic bottles. I could have made sleep a priority, quit smoking and drinking sooner and not married a job that turned a run-of-the-mill control freak into a spread-too-thin obsessive perfectionist, trying to do all things, everywhere, first and best.

It’s been exactly three years since M.E. shuddered through my body and I wonder if I’ll ever stop thinking about the life that I lost that day. I would take all of my previous health conditions over this one. It was like a death: of my career, of my strong body, of ignorant bliss, and of our future dreams. I think about the months leading up to it — the blatant warnings of a body in crisis that I chose to ignore. There was a nagging voice in my head that pushed me to make a will, living will and power of attorney the year prior, at the age of 36. That same voice made me insist on a quickie marriage in the back garden after my husband and I had been together 13 years. I wanted him to be able to speak for me if I happened to be incapacitated and have legal recourse and rights if I died. I did everything I needed to do for luck: old, new, borrowed, blue, coin in my shoe… We signed the papers on the patio table and, half way back to the kitchen to grab our lunch, I remembered the last thing needed to insure we didn’t jinx our new life: he carried me over our backdoor threshold. We didn’t tell anyone because we thought we’d have a proper ceremony with friends and family in the next year or two — maybe in Ireland or somewhere exotic on a beach. It was exciting to dream up plans for a wedding after so many years together. That was 44 days before my Halloween sickness.

My life feels like one of those Choose Your Own Adventure books that I adored as a kid.

Move back to Ireland after college, turn to page 63 or drive across America to Seattle, turn to page 82.

Work your way up the restaurant corporate ladder, turn to page 103 or go to grad school for nutrition and dietetics, turn to page 123.
 
Jump in the lake in Virginia, just once, for only a few minutes, turn to page 146 or stay dry and don’t catch whatever is going to land you in the ER, wipe out your gut flora and set your immune system up for failure, turn to page 160.
 

Run into Walgreens on the way home from work and get a flu shot, turn to page 184 or keep on driving and live the rest of your life never having heard of myalgic encephalomyelitis, turn to page Happily Ever After.

I know, I know. You want to say it might have happened anyway. But it wouldn’t have. And you want to say I’ve got to stop ruminating over the what ifs and focus on the present. But it’s the Day of the Dead, a time to remember the dear departed. So, today, three years after the specter came to stay, I will think about the woman I lost that hallowed eve.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN

I’ll leave you on a happy note. November 1st is not only the anniversary of the first day of my new life with chronic illness, it is also the anniversary of my first born son, Bowie, arriving in our lives. ^^