WARNING: This is one of those posts that may possibly be an assault on your delicate sensibilities. If you are squeamish in nature, run. Run like the wind.
Because my latest blood work showed that Lyme Disease is still all too present in my system, my protocol was stepped up to include the addition of a stronger antibiotic to be taken every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. This is in addition to Doxycycline and Azithromyacin.
You cannot know how much joy it gives me to be able to toss around 4 and 5 syllable words.
And then a couple of weeks later, a full frontal assault was scheduled in the form of I.V. Rocephin (another antibiotic) treatments twice weekly. Fortunately, I am able to get the I.V. locally, and not have to travel to Orlando.
As you might imagine, if you know anything about long term antibiotic use, I developed a case of, well, the scoots. Day and night. Night and day. Despite a regiment of heavy duty probiotics.
Needless to say, my new Lyme protocol has drained me.
After a discussion with my doctor’s office, we determined that I should drop the Doxycycline and Azithromyacin. Now without Doxycycline in my system I am able to stroll out to the mailbox without worrying about 3rd degree burns.
However, I no longer have any good excuse to avoid the beach. Except for the sharks, of course.
The problem has not resolved, so my doctor is suspecting a C. difficile infection, common for folks taking broad spectrum antibiotics over an extended period of time. How do they determine if I have C. diff?
A STOOL SAMPLE.
He sent me a prescription to pick up a collection kit. And happily, I was also scheduled for blood work the same morning. And after googling C.diff, I determined that time was of the essence.
One of the happy byproducts of Lyme Disease, and any disease of the auto-immune system for that matter, is that your veins develop a severe case of shyness. It’s like getting blood from a turnip.
That means that on Thursday I went in for my I.V. treatment, which always means at least a stick in each arm to locate a cooperative vein. And then Friday morning, another 3 sticks, before finally finding a suitable vein in my forearm.
I have to say that I am blessed to have a pro at the diagnostic center who is ALWAYS able to find a vein, even if it takes 3 attempts. I was bandaged all up and down both arms, looking rather like something from Curse of the Mummy.
Before I left, she handed me the specimen collection kit which I was to take home. It was a subtle looking contraption:
I looked at it. Then looked at the nurse. “Seriously? OK, um, if I’m having (lowers voice to barely audible) diarrhea, how am I going to negotiate that thing?”
Without batting an eye, she said, “Well, you just pour it out the back into the specimen jar. And be sure to refrigerate it before bringing it back.”
This is when the room began spinning, right before my eyes rolled into the back of my head.
I gathered what was left of my dignity and marched out through the standing room only waiting area, holding my specimen collection contraption, which I could neither hide in my purse or under my t-shirt. LOOK WHAT I GET TO GO HOME AND DO, EVERYONE!!! WOOHOO! PARTY AT MY HOUSE!
Since my blood work was to be taken on an empty stomach, you might imagine that I was starving. And I don’t handle myself with a great deal of diplomacy when my blood sugar takes a nose dive. I thought that I would treat myself to a Bacon/Egg/Cheese Biscuit from the McDonald’s drive-thru. A favorite that I have not allowed myself to have in well over a year because I have made an attempt to clean up my diet for the most part. Except for the occasional trip to Cracker Barrel.
There was a longish line and I placed my order, picked up my bagged breakfast at the last window and made my way back down the street. I never ever use my cell phone while operating heavy machinery, but I’m not above eating while driving.
As I was about to take a healthy (as in large) bite, I noticed that they had given me a sausage/egg/biscuit combo. Since my heart was set on bacon, I turned the car around, getting back into the drive-thru line. I explained the situation and was handed another bagged breakfast. I looked into the employee’s eyes, “Bacon egg cheese biscuit?” “Yep.”
Expectantly, I drove off. At about the same point down the street, I reached into the bag and pulled out A BISCUIT. A BISCUIT VOID OF BACON. VOID OF EGG. VOID OF CHEESE.
I turned the car around and aimed myself back to McDonald’s. I determined not to sit in line again, so I parked and marched myself up to the counter.
Envision if you will, a woman who has not eaten all morning, with bandages crisscrossing both arms, already on the verge of high strung. I explained as calmly as I could what had taken place. He apologized and went to retrieve a bacon/egg/cheese biscuit himself. He asked me if I’d like a complimentary hash brown. I said no thank you, but if he’d make that a coffee, I would likely not cry on his counter.
A normal sane type of person would have checked the sandwich right there. But I chose instead to head back to the safety of my car before examining the contents. I opened the sandwich to discover only a hint of bacon. Really. There were like a few bacon crumbs astride the egg and cheese. At this point I no longer cared, so I ate the hint-of bacon/egg/cheese biscuit and called it a day.
I figured it was an omen. Unhealthy eating is simply too much work. McDonald’s, you are dead to me. Except for your senior coffee.
When I arrived home Fiddledaddy spotted the specimen collection contraption and asked the dreaded question. “How is THAT suppose to work?” I explained it to him, including the part about pouring it out the back into the cup. Then I simply stepped over his body on my way to the back of the house.
Emme who had been listening quizzed me, “YOU’RE GOING TO PUT IT IN THE REFRIGERATOR?”
“Yes, right next to your dinner.”
They were all going down like bowling pins.
And it wasn’t even 10:30 in the morning.
The way I look at it, it’s all going to be uphill from here. BRING IT ON, WEEKEND. I AIN’T SKEERT.
The battle is raging, the casualties are mounting, but I’m winning the war.