The other day, while filling out forms for an appointment, I froze, as I came upon the medical history section. How could I even begin to explain it all? Moreover, how could I fit everything on two little lines?
Category: Recovery
Why I Quit Therapy
This week, I quit therapy.
Wait a minute… I was nearing hospitalization for anorexia just seven months ago, and my psychiatrist recently suggested intensive outpatient was reasonable, and now I’m not even addressing it at all?
Why I’m Struggling through College… For the 8th Time
It was with a truckload of emotions that I pulled up to my apartment last Monday night, before my eighth semester of college. While being at school means seeing my friends again and keeping busy with interesting things, it also usually means grinding myself into pieces as I try to get all the required work done in the midst of PANS and Lyme. College isn’t easy for anyone, but trying to do it with these chronic illnesses can make it a hundred times worse.
Continue reading “Why I’m Struggling through College… For the 8th Time”
Recovery Is Possible!
Okay, I’m keeping it shorter this week, because I’m doing so well that I’ve been extremely busy! As I’ve said in the past, the better I’m doing, the less I tend to post and tweet, because I’m away from the blog living my life.
The One Thing I Hate More Than Therapy
At 93 pounds, I was so miserable and malnourished that I didn’t even know how ill I was. At the time, when I found myself sitting in an infusion chair receiving my third IVIG, I silently wondered to myself what I was doing there. How could I have PANDAS if I wasn’t “that sick”? Why was I getting such a heavy-handed treatment? But with my weight nearing the so-called “starvation” range, many of my organs weren’t working properly anymore. My psychiatrist warned that I’d be in the hospital soon.
Life Beyond 100%
During my first few months of treatment, whenever anyone asked me what percent of myself I felt I was, I usually said 80 or 90%. Although I believed this was accurate, I was grossly overestimating my level of wellness, because I’d forgotten what life was like at 100%. As I’ve said before, I’ve never realized how ill I’ve been until I’ve gotten better.
Until the Victory Is Mine
One of the hardest things about PANDAS is that you never know what it’s going to do next. Just as you’ve finally gotten your life back, it can strike again. Or just as you’re sure the fight is hopeless, things might turn a corner. Sometimes, it seems like there’s no rhyme or reason to its course.
Indeed, it wasn’t too long ago that my doctor said I was in remission. My family and I were stunned at the improvements I was making after my tonsillectomy. But this week, the unthinkable has happened: I am, once again, having a flare.
Why I’m Glad I Got Sick
It was the first full week of class, and just like Freshman year, I had gotten sick. My body ached. My head pounded. I felt exhausted.
When you have PANS, getting sick is often far worse than just feeling tired and congested—in the past, a simple virus could send me into a full-blown flare of severe OCD, panic attacks, involuntary movements, and even hallucinations. So naturally, when my nose started running last week, all I could think about was how much I didn’t want to flare. I couldn’t have cared less about the cold symptoms themselves.
Did I Lose My Mind to a… Sink?
Serratia marcescens… What in the world is that? An Italian dish? An exotic island town? Neither. It’s the name of a bacteria that you’ve probably never heard of—a bacteria that had taken up residence in my tonsils.
Serratia can be found anywhere, but it thrives in hospitals and in damp spaces like bathrooms. If you see a pink or orangish ring around a drain (such as mine, pictured above), it might be Serratia. Most people never have trouble living near the organism, but in hospital settings, it can cause serious problems. For me, having it in my tonsils was likely an ongoing trigger making my immune system attack my brain.
Why Bedtime Can Be Terrifying
Tap, tap, tap.
It’s 2 AM, and someone is at my bedroom door. I bolt awake and hold still so they don’t know I’m in the room. I slowly reach for my phone and think about texting my parents to come help me.
But I’m all alone. No one is at the door.
I’m hallucinating again.