Tag Archives: sickness

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March, 2012: 4 months sick. An excerpt from my diary.

Muscles pumped full of lead. No, heavier: Plutonium. Filled with liquid hot metal until they might burst. Heavier than anyone can imagine, aching, about to strain, buckle, seize up with the slightest movement. Ready to sprain with the slightest stretch, no tone, no strength. Climbing stairs is climbing Mount Everest.

Slurred words, room spinning, head aching, chest tightening, heart leaping, entire body shaking, vibrating. Internal tremors making me feel unstable.

Chills. Bone-chills. Shivering, unable to talk, nose going to shrivel and fall off, can’t breathe, freezing feet going to shatter into pieces, ice water running up and down my spine, head fogged over with frost, scalp taut, ears infected with cold, ice water spine, ice water spine.

Then, fever heat. Body on fire. Feet going to explode from the pooled blood, eyes burning, brain swollen. Spine and neck blistered with white-hot embers, waiting for bed to burst into flames. And the sweats come. Sweat running down my chest, pooling in my belly button. Sweat behind my knees, my lower back, above my top lip, in rivulets down the sides of my nose, my hair and the base of my skull drenched.

And I’m shaking, reaching for water. I don’t want to die. My palms are sweating and my throat is sore and I’m so thirsty, but can barely drink. I have to go to the toilet, but don’t think I can make it. I have crawled to the bathroom with concrete blocks tied to my arms and legs, while someone is spinning the room around me and zapping me with electrical current and blowing a dense fog ~ more like a smoke ~ into my ears and up my nose and down my throat, so I can’t breathe and I can’t think. It feels like what I imagine encephalitis must feel like. Meningitis. Botulism. Typhoid. Consumption. It feels malarial, paralytic, neurotoxic.

I just keep thinking, I don’t want to die.

Two hours ago, I was chatting on the phone to my mother. I was throwing a ball for my dogs. Without warning, I have to go to bed. It’s like a huge finger is pressing down on me and all I can do is go to the ground. If I try to get up, the whole hand holds me down. Huge hands holding me down so that every movement takes more energy and effort than it ever should or ever has before.

I watch someone run up stairs on tv and my eyes tear up with desire and jealousy. All I want is to be able to stand for a while, laugh without noticing because it’s not a rare occurrence, talk with friends without my throat turning into sandpaper and my back seizing up and having to go straight to bed from the exertion. All I want is to sleep. Sleep deeply. Without nightmares. And sit without pain, walk without breathlessness, feel light again, like those hands aren’t holding me down, like I could skip or twirl. All I want is strength, stamina, health. To live life without the fear of repercussions.

To live life. To not die.

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LDN Day 13… Sleep & Sun might cure everything.

Maybe the low-dose naltrexone has helped a little… I’m still very hesitant to say that with certainty because I don’t feel much different except my nights are better and that helps everything. The good news is, I slept over 8 hours last night with no night sweats. I have never, ever had such a string of good nights. Please, universe, help me to keep this going. The only downside is my thrashing about and crazy dreams and the number of times I wake up. I feel very achy this morning, very tired, headachy and swollen. I want to feel refreshed. Does that actually happen? Do people really wake up feeling refreshed? Who?? I want to know what their job is, what their home life is like, how rich they are, how many kids they have,  how old they are… I just don’t believe it. But, if I keep up my routine, maybe one day I can let you all know that it is possible to get out of bed not in pain, not stiff, not dizzy and swollen and achy. Maybe one day I will write that book. For now, my rules are: read a book before bed ~ not an ipad, make the room very, very dark, make sure the room isn’t too cold, kick the husband out if he snores, wash the sheets weekly, and don’t do anything that might disrupt anything in the night. Everything that can cause night sweats and loss of sleep, will. That’s why I’ve been taking Miralax in the morning when I’m sure most people take it at night (by the way, it hasn’t worked yet). The less my body is doing at night, the better I sleep and the less likely I’ll have the sickly sweats. That goes for my brain, my stomach, my bowels ~ everything needs calm and quiet.

When my drenching night sweats started out of the blue last November, the first thing the doctors told me was to stop all medication. I thought it was interesting and maybe this will help someone out there. I stopped taking hydrocodone/acetaminophen for my neck, I stopped taking liquid calcium/magnesium at night, I stopped the birth control pill for almost two months, I even stopped eating gluten. Now, none of these things worked for me, but it might work for someone else. My endocrinologist said, it doesn’t matter how long you have been taking a medication, it can turn on your body at any time and it should be the first thing you eliminate if you have an odd new symptom.

I didn’t do much yesterday. I made it to the dog park and tried to make myself walk faster than usual, so that could be why I’m feeling more achy today. I think it’s time to try some light muscle exercises. I’m scared of the repercussions, but I can’t go on atrophying this way. I’m thinking, some soup-can-arm-curls are in order. If I can’t eat my pea soup/ veg soup/ cream of anything soup, I might as well use them as weights.

We’ll see. My Dad comes for a visit this weekend and I may just decide to leave well enough alone today. Don’t rock the boat. Save your energy, don’t try anything new. I do have to wash the dogs today and I have a lunch date with a friend and, if I have the energy, I’d love to get to the dog park, too. So… we’ll see.

I meant to start signing off with something I’m grateful for ~ my version of a gratitude journal, to keep things in perspective. Today, I am grateful for sun. Every day that there is sun, I feel better. I’m very scared of the impending winter. But, my therapist says I must stop the future thinking, so, for now, thank you, Sun!

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LDN Day 11… Thoughts on long-term illness.

Well, the Miralax didn’t work (called Movicol, I believe, in Ireland and the UK), so I took it again this morning. I’m pretty sure the constipation has nothing to do with the low-dose naltrexone. I think it’s from the radical change in my diet and all the supplement pills.

The good news is that yesterday was okay even after the activity of the day before. There were two bad spells: in the afternoon I was feeling very low, very lonely, very sorry for myself. Being home alone is very isolating when you feel like you can’t physically accomplish all the things you wished you could not work in order to do. Did that sentence make sense? I spent years wishing for an extended period of time off of work! I would do yoga and paint our rooms and read 100 books I’ve been meaning to read. I would have movie marathons all day, I would meet friends for lunch, learn to cook, learn Spanish, hike in the beautiful mountains with the dogs… I had to leave my job in May due to this evil illness and I haven’t done any of those things. I haven’t turned on the tv once during the day. I tried gentle yoga a few times before I realised the degree of my muscle atrophy and managed to injure myself repeatedly. I have met people for lunch a few times, but have always been laid up the next day, useless. I’m not sure where the days go, honestly. I used to work an average of 50 hours a week: during the slow months, 45 hours/week, during the busy months, I’ve worked 70+. Now, I am on the computer in the morning for a bit, I do laundry, I tidy up, I meditate, I try to get to the dog park and then it’s the evening. I don’t even talk to anyone on the phone because I don’t really want to talk about me and I don’t want them to ask. Yeah, yeah, same old, same old, how are YOU? The problem is, I don’t want them not to ask, either, because then I feel like I’ve been left to die. I know that’s morbid. It’s just interesting what I’m learning about myself through all of this.

The best I’ve felt in the past nine months was when my best friend came to visit from Ireland. She was a distraction and a counselor. She was full of energy and positivity. We talked about my situation, but so many other things, too. I guess I feel better when I’m not left alone with this spectre and I’m able to talk about different tactics going forward ~ in an analytical way, almost, as if it is obvious I am going to conquer this, I just have to find the right weapon. I expend a lot of energy trying not to lose hope and not be depressed and, yes, not be suicidal, so it’s nice to know that there are friends and family who understand, are sympathetic, but know that things will get better. Or pretend to. The first time I met the Good Doctor, she said, “Let me hold on to hope for you for a while. I know you will get better, so, if you lose all hope, just know that I am holding onto it for you.”

Anyway, yesterday there were two bad spells: the low, lonely moment in the afternoon and the flu in the evening. For about two hours, I was convinced once again that I was catching a cold: sore throat, headache, muscle aches, ear and nose issues. But nothing has changed this morning. I was in bed from 10pm to 10am, up repeatedly, crazy dreams, waking with my hands gripping the sheets in fists, jaw clamped down painfully… BUT, I managed to get 8 hours sleep during those 12 hours. That’s fantastic, I just have to learn to do that in less time.

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Diet Day 4… Earwigs for breakfast.

I don’t like fruit. I’ve never really liked fruit. It doesn’t taste very good, it’s not filling, it gives you a stomach ache, it messes with your bowels. I have never understood people that buy fruit to eat it raw for the taste. I’ve only ever eaten it because it’s supposed to be good for me. Bananas gross me out. I eat them all the time because I’m trying to be good to my body, but they are the right taste and texture for about 3 minutes during their lifetime. Before that, they are grassy and tart, afterwards, they are muddy and diarrheal. My coworkers used to eat brown bananas by my desk just to see me wretch.

Well, now, with this diet, I am forced to eat a lot of fruit. I was trying to be positive: Mmm, fresh produce! Yum, berries! Apples taste great! This morning, I did that while eating my breakfast peach: Peaches are so good in season! So juicy and tasty and fresh! But, they’re not! It’s a lie. Their skin is freaky fuzzy and they always have brown soft spots that feel …contagious. But, by god, I wasn’t going to eat another Lara Bar for breakfast, so I persevered. When I was almost finished, the peach cracked open. The center had no pit ~ it was rotten and very moldy and, joy, two earwigs scurried out. I screamed, dropped the peach, my dog jumped up with his ears flattened and tail tucked, the earwigs disappeared (I honestly can’t find them anywhere) and then I promptly puked.

My husband happened to stop by the house while this was happening. He said, “Why does this stuff always happen to you?” And then he reminded me of the time a few years ago when I had bitten into a cashew and found a bug inside. Probably not the best thing to bring up when I’m doubled over the toilet and half of my current diet is nut-based.

So, I ask you, do I decide to have a liquid breakfast of chocolate almond milk every morning and just deal with the nausea that the pills will give me? Or, do I decide that I am allowed to eat oats, only in the morning in the form of granola, muesli, porridge or oat/nut/fruit bars? Do I perservere and eat a banana every morning during that 3-minute window of banana goodness and call that my breakfast? Or do I say, my quality of life is suffering and now, not only am I sick physically, but I’m sick to my stomach and depressed thinking about food every day, so fuck it…? What do you vote, readers?

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The evils of CFS/ME

One of these days I’ll write a post about the background of my sickness and the evils of CFS/ME. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be normal again. Beyond the obvious symptoms of this disease, there are some comparatively minor, but majorly disheartening issues that come along with it. Noise sensitivity, light sensitivity, LIFE sensitivity. I don’t want to be in crowds or in loud places or around a bunch of kids or in hospitals. The toll these places and stimuli take on my body is different — but just as severe — as physical exercise. Here are some recent examples:

My aforementioned trip to the dog park yesterday. I was weepy, breathless, irritated. Dogs barking and jumping on me caused me to wince and flinch. I avoided eye contact with everyone lest they try to make small talk or ask what kind of dog I have (a very tall Rhodesian ridgeback – he gets a lot of attention).

My husband and I went to see a movie. We sat in the middle, as usual, but the screen was too big for me to focus on, so we moved further back. Ten minutes later, we had to leave because the volume left me in extraordinary pain. Afterwards, I burst into tears. I felt rattled, shaken, headachy, fuzzy. I felt like I’d been in a war zone for ten minutes.

I went to a baseball game when my best friend was visiting from out of town. The noise was torture. The crowd, overwhelming. The heat, when sitting in the sun, made me feel faint. The chill of the shade made me feel sick. I meditated with my eyes closed to give myself strength, then basically went straight home to bed.

Today, I went to the grocery store. This place is huge. Bananas are half a world away from the strawberries. I went in with a list, worked as quickly as possible, but, it was crowded — families everywhere, carts colliding — I gave up eventually, went back to the car and let me husband check out. I thought I would pass out or puke or both.

There have been so many instances like this. It’s not anxiety or phobia or fear causing it, but, of course, now there is anxiety wondering how a situation will affect me. And wondering whether I will ever be normal again. Whether I will ever again have a high threshold for bright lights, loud noises, multiple conversations or big crowds. I want to be able to go to a concert or the cinema. I want to be able to watch fireworks or go to a party. I want to be able to go to a mall or a grocery store or an airport. I caught a sensitivity virus. Sensitivity to noise, lights, sound, heat, cold, foods, drugs, alcohol, chemicals, animals, touch… I don’t want to be a hermit or antisocial. I don’t want to live in peace and quiet! … I’m forced to.

If, one day, you see my screaming and dancing in a mosh pit at some extremely loud rock concert, just know it is a good thing: I am jumping for joy.