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?
Ever since I announced my Lyme diagnosis, I’ve been inundated with questions from readers. While I’m not qualified to give anyone medical advice, I’ll gladly share my own personal experiences. Given the number of messages I’ve received, I figured I should answer the most common questions in a post for all of you, so here you go: Continue reading “In Response to Your Lyme Questions…”
“Mom, I want to die!” I burst into the living room screaming, a look of sheer terror in my eyes.
“Please… Help me!” I plead as I crumple into a heap on the sofa, wailing and yelling at the top of my lungs.
Today, just two weeks after my third IVIG, I’m happy to say I’ve made tremendous progress. I’m no longer afraid of food and calories, so I’ve probably gained back about half of the weight I lost. I’ve gotten strong enough to run (slowly). My POTS symptoms are basically gone, and my parents have told me that there’s life in my eyes again. Oh, and I’ve even finished all of the summer coursework for the classes I had to take incompletes in—including a twelve-page research paper!
So am I better now? Is life perfectly peachy now that I’ve had IVIG? Continue reading “IVIG #3: Third Time’s a Charm”
With this latest flare, I’ve been struggling with an eating disorder again. Restricted food intake is one of the two major diagnostic criteria for PANS, so my new obsession is nothing unusual. In fact, this is the third time in my life that I’ve faced an eating disorder: the first was when I was nine or ten and the second was in 2014, at nineteen.
Since being diagnosed with PANS, I’ve been on antibiotics for twenty months straight, save for one two-week break. I’ll continue until six months after my last symptom, or at the very least, through my senior year of college.
As I made my way through the halls to my neurologist’s office last May, I stopped in my tracks as I saw a face I recognized. She was receiving IVIG and roaming the halls hooked up to an IV bag pole, accompanied by her mother and a nurse. She was exhausted. There was no light in her eyes. She had a sense of burden and deep sadness about her that penetrated to the depths of her soul.
Once you’ve seen the face of a child with PANDAS, you can never forget it.
Last week, I celebrated the one-year mark since my first IVIG. It’s hard to believe it’s already been a year, yet my recovery has seemed to go so much slower than I thought it would.
There are many things that no one ever told me before my first IVIG. I was warned about the fatigue and nausea and headaches afterward and the post-IVIG flare that would come in a few weeks. I was even warned it could take a year before all my symptoms went away, but I was never told what that year might be like.
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.
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.