Relapse #n

Or maybe I should call this YAR (yet another relapse). Who’s counting, anyway? This one (maybe) was triggered by international travel and possibly stress. I’m about a week in, and as usual it’s both new and the same. Started with night sweats (while still on the trip), transitioned to nausea (new) and dizziness and now some pain as well (headaches, back and shoulders, etc). Not to mention the fatigue, sometimes just putting my own boots on gets me out of breath (those zippers!).

As usual, I find myself trying to make something new of this, because I have to do something. In the past I’ve developed new treatment plans, explored disability accomodations, and explored new doctors. This time around … I went shopping for canes (I had tossed my old one in a fit of hope and because it was falling apart). I’m heading to a conference at the end of April, and I’ve always found “seat canes” to be particularly helpful in that sort of setting, so I invested in a much nicer one than last time around. It arrives Monday, and I hope it will be as nice as it looks online! I’m using a hacked together cane at work right now (an old broomstick with rubber bands so it doesn’t slip!) so I also invested in a very simple wooden cane to replace the broomstick.

Really though, I want something more satisfying to do than shop for canes or try to sleep through it. Lying here in my office (in my lovely zero-gravity reclining chair; another investment in comfort when ill) a few minutes ago I tossed around feeling sorry for myself and even tried to work up to some tears or a good primal scream, but really it just didn’t feel right. It wasn’t going to change anything, after all.  Then I thought about working, but I guess I need a better project in my line up because none of my current ones were appealing enough to pull me out of the haze of pain I was in. So here I am writing a blog post instead (and it is helping :). 

I do feel as though I’m rambling a bit, but I have one last topic to reflect on. I have a colleague who is going through cancer (actually he is caregiver for someone with cancer) and oddly I found myself feeling slightly jealous of them. He is taking time off work for caregiving (not something my husband ever did given that work was already giving me such a big break). He knows approximately what to expect and how long it all will take, and the people around him have a clue as well (i.e. they appreciate the debilitating nature of chemo). Insurance — in network! Negotiating doctors: reading up on the newest research, which the top doctors know about, and can be used to inform the care plan. Prognosis: The longer one is symptom free, the less chance of recurrence (I guess that’s true of Lyme too, but they are at the start of that journey and hopeful that the outcome will be positive). Of course, this also all comes with a significant risk of death, something that I am grateful not to be facing. Even so, it sure would be nice if Lyme disease was as mainstreamed and well understood.

So having used this blog post indirectly to complain about how lousy I am feeling and how unfair it all is, especially in comparison to people with cancer (and yes, I am being sarcastic, at least in part), I suppose in the end I have gotten my “feeling sorry for myself” out. Thanks for listening.

7 thoughts on “Relapse #n

  1. How are you? Are you better? Do you use another round of antibiotics to go over relapse #n ? I wish you to be better. I hear you. I understand you and very sorry. I am in the same boat.

  2. How do you found an idea to try Naltrexone?
    I read your that post. I wish you to have success with your new trial.

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