Lyme Inflammation Diet - Day 1

People have vices.  Some drink.  Some hit.  Some pocket dial or text while flying down the highway.  My vice?  Bread and sugar.  And both of my vices are forbidden on the Lyme Inflammation Diet (LID).

I love Dr. S and his desire to make his patients well.  But his LID is my downfall.  Give me kefir and antibiotics and I could survive this.  Take away bread and sugar and I fail.  Consistently.  And it drives me nuts.

I went to Trader Joe's yesterday to gear up to eat this diet.  And I bought raw almonds, bok choy (?!), asparagus, pomegranate juice and blueberry juice.  I was actually excited about eating because it would mean getting rid of the bloat.  Which now has semi left my stomach area to settle unsightly around my ankles and lower half of my legs.  I even prepared my breakfast and lunch and snacks, so hopeful.  I had eggs for breakfast, pomegranate juice with my multi-vitamin, sauteed asparagus with mushrooms and onions, celery with almond and flaxseed butter.  All neatly packed in my lunch bag.

I had a meeting at work and they ordered in lunch and invited me to order too.  I should have said no, but even the salad I ordered was LID-approved for phase 1.  It had arugula, artichokes and onions with balsamic vinegar.  But they had bread at the table that everyone raved about.  It was like white pizza.  I opened one closest to me, like an idiot, and it's bready, cheesy goodness smelled divine.  And without thinking, I bit into it.  It tasted so warm and delicious...

Damn.

I lasted 12 hours.  Twelve hours!

And my ankles grew after I ate my bread.

I hate this disease, but I hate my lack of willpower even more.  How is it I can push myself to go to work, exercise, heck, even go to church when I'm feeling low and in pain, but when it comes to bread, I sink?  It's an addiction, I'm telling you.  It has no rhyme or reason.  I complain about the bloat, I complain about the pain, there's a solution and my body sabotages it at every turn.  It's sickening!  Even as I type, I have a craving for a burger that's unreal and burgers aren't allowed until the end of phase 4.  Another month and a half from now.  And ice cream.  Oh, it's siren song always lulls me to my inflamed demise and today, it lures loudly and seductively.  I can hold out bread and sugar free, for 3 days.  It's been my maximum of dedicated willpower.  By day 4, I can't hold out.  I've tried taking it one day at a time.  And in my mind, if it's one day and this were to be my last day, I want to be happy and eat my bread and ice cream.  If I try to make it past day 4, my attitude is the poster child of PMS, without the PMS.  I'm moody and grouchy and ready to kill someone for a piece of bread or sugar.  My husband recognizes my rabid state and gives me what I want, but it isn't what I need.  I would pay someone (almost) to shadow me and smack my hand Catholic nun-style to stop the offending food entering my mouth.

The day isn't over.  Diet pundits and cheerleaders say a slip up doesn't ruin the whole day.  They aren't there when I'm driving past a Cold Stone Creamery or Elevation Burger and I happen to find myself in front of the counter ordering.  I have eliminated fast food.  I've eliminated fried food.  I've eliminated candy bars and fire balls.  I heard that super strong probiotics fixes the desire to eat bread and sugar.  And the Body Ecology people emailed me and said to order this super probiotic to help.  I'm ordering it today.  I can't do this to myself.  And the ankle bloat is as uncute as the belly bloat.

Zumba!

First I will say, exercising since being reinfected has taken more out of me.  When I wake up in the mornings now, particularly this week, it's like my body is lead, bloated balloon and the joints are sharp and painful.  Two days this week I let my body win and I didn't go to the gym.  But by day 3, I had enough and I worked out.  I felt good afterwards but getting to that point to work out was a lot mentally.

So yesterday, my friend Patrick asked if I would go with him and a co-worker to Zumba.  I've done Zumba and I like it.  But this Zumba class was at a local Latin restaurant with drinking.  It was so unusual to me that I had to say yes!  It started at 10:00 pm.  So Patrick picked me up to go to the restaurant.  What was surprising to me was the fair number of Asian women among the Hispanic women.  As we waited for the instructors, I had a drink.  A big no-no in the Lyme Disease diet from Dr. S and a big no-no in general for those who are chronically inflamed.  But I haven't had a drink in months and I do love a good drink.  So I had one.  Applaud the willpower to stay with just one.

Then the instructors came.  It was like Zumba on acid.  I've never seen instructors like this in my Zumba experience.  And the restaurant was already warm, so when you have 60 people dancing to Zumba on acid, it's a sweat dripping mess.  I haven't sweat like that in my life.  I had a ton of fun, but after the first hour (!), I had to ask Patrick to take me home.  I felt like I was going to pass out.  I know, I know, I should have drank water.  But the restaurant wouldn't let people bring in water, so if I was going to splurge on a beverage, let it be a margarita.  There's plenty of water at home.  

I still had a buzz and my husband was on the computer when I came back.  As I chugged my water and talked to him about the evening, the Lyme began to flare.  My suspicion is on the alcohol, but it was a hot room and an intense workout, so who knows.  But the brain fog was horrible.  I would talk to my husband and it's like my train of thought would hit a blank wall.  At one point, when it happened in the conversation, I heard crickets.  But it turns out the crickets were noisier than usual last night.  To me, it's disconcerting when that happens and I'm not on alcohol.  But last night, with my buzz, if I lost my train of thought or the words just wouldn't come out like I wanted, I didn't care.  And it was liberating.  Probably not so much to my husband as he's trying to follow his wife's conversation.  

I showered and went to bed and this morning, I had a hangover.  I was horrified.  I've drank more than one drink in my past to get a hangover.  I'll just say it takes more than 2.  But this morning it was a hangover with the vicious headache and the disorientation.  I was irritated.  It seems with the Lyme, I'm back to level -10 with drinking.  Worse than a rookie.  I'm not trying to maintain a status, but if you're going to drink socially, you should be able to without unpleasant effects in the morning.  

I tried to get through my errands for the morning, which I did, but by noon, I was wiped out.  I laid down to take a short nap, maybe 45 minutes.  Instead it took 3 hours.  And after 3 hours I was still groggy.  But I feel better than I did this morning.  Thank God for weekends.  I couldn't imagine feeling the way I did this morning and attempt to go to work.  

But after last night, I think I'll have to entertain Zumba as part of my cardio.  

Dr. S

Had a mostly good weekend. Horrible Lyme flare on Sunday. Almost didn't make it to church. But I didn't want Lyme thinking that it was going to have me miss church. Because then it would take over and think it can make me miss work. Like a pet, Lyme, for me, has to be house-trained.

But my post is about my caring Lyme Literate Medical Doctor (LLMD), Dr. S. I saw him yesterday and he confirmed my tick bite.

Going to his office, it's calming. Empathy haven. Finally, someone who knows you're not crazy, or seeking attention. My husband met Dr. S for the first time yesterday as well and was glad to meet him and thanked him for getting me better the first time. And Dr. S' staff is ultra friendly.

So, the skinny, I have the Lyme bacteria and Bartonella. Again. What was a little concerning to Dr. S was I wasn't getting better on just doxycycline alone. Which suggests a co-infection. And I found out I was taking my doxy at the wrong time in the evening. If I take it an hour before bed, like I was doing, it'll tear my esophagus up. Which I will testify to.

Dr. S also gave some awesome encouragement about probiotics. I was asking if store bought fermented foods still have the potency of homemade fermented foods. His wife is a dietitian (who's super sweet and knowledgeable) and he called her up to ask. She verified that store bought kefir does have dairy and sugar in it. True kefir does not have any dairy or sugar remaining. I always wondered why I would still bloat from store bought kefir but not from homemade. After Lyme, I've become lactose intolerant and dairy makes me bloated. Sure doesn't help while I'm on the medication. After the call, Dr. S recommended the Body Ecology Diet regimen for probiotics and I've heard of it before, I just wasn't sure if Dr. S approved. He does, so I'm going to be all over that.

Meanwhile, because of my car's problems, my family was along for the visit too. So as I'm talking to Dr. S, I hear the baby running down the hall as someone is running after her. I felt bad that my family was cooped up in the waiting room, but they were all happy to meet Dr. S. It brought a gravity to the situation.

As I drove back to the car shop to pick up my car, I became increasingly tired. By the time we stopped, I was exhausted. When I went to the counter to ask about the car, I was barely coherent. A symptom I notice from Lyme is long driving will take me out. Word and syntax is not available. Listening takes effort and even then, everyone sounds like the grown-ups from Charlie Brown. The “mwa mwa mwa” sound. After an hour drive to and from Dr. S' office, I was no good. I remember the guy from the shop talking. What he said, the only thing I remember is tire, which I found wasn't what he said. I stopped him and said I just came back from my appointment and I needed a minute and I put my head down on the counter. I had to breathe. I felt like I was going to lose consciousness. I scraped around for my willpower, which was on low, and dragged it out so I could understand what this guy was telling me. I was able to gather the car wasn't done and the problem was the power steering pump and I was offered a rental car. I knew I was in no condition to drive another mile, rental or not. I said for them to call me tomorrow about the car. I staggered to where my family was waiting, put myself in the passenger's seat and collapsed. My husband said he didn't know where he was or how to get home. I pointed him to the main road and said keep going straight, he would know the way. That's the last I remember. When my husband woke me up, I was at my job.

I didn't want to go to work. I wanted to sleep. I tried to quickly gather my bearings and appear competent and go in to work.    It was another 15 minutes mentally for me to come around, but thankfully I didn't bump into anyone. By the time I pulled myself together, I saw my boss and no one was the wiser. Which is the usual, trying to keep it together and no one is the wiser. After yesterday, Dr. S and my family gets my struggle to appear that everything is ok.

Postal Stress

So yesterday, I come home from work and I'm trying to keep my energy level up.  I do miss my family and I love to see them when I come home.

I told my kids (they're 8 and 9) that this is a summer on, not a summer off.  It's been criticized by some, but I'm confident in the decision.  I want their 3rd and 4th grade year to be fantastic.  And it's been proven that kids' brains turn to mush with 3 months of non-academic learning.

So I decided to treat this summer like mini-home school.  Some structure, some reading and writing, and electives.  My 9 year old wants to be a midwife and my 8 year old is in love with fireflies and butterflies.  So I let them read what they want about the subject, though about midwifery, that's under extreme selection.  She knows how babies grow, just not how they get started.

But yesterday, the girls didn't want to follow the schedule.  Or so I thought.  And I was so upset.  I said I gave up, people are right about this summer on is wrong for kids, no one likes what I do around the house, and down this yucky mental and verbal slide I went.  It was after my husband spoke gently to me, told me what happened during the day and consequently the girls did do as I asked, I felt awful.  And the frustration it seems came out of nowhere.  It seemed like something took over and I just spiraled over nothing.  I ended up actually crying that all of this, Lyme, motherhood, working, is taking its toll.  I hate crying.  Leads to headaches and I get plenty of those without tears.

But it was weird, as soon as that little black rain cloud left, all was right in the world.  I apologized to my husband and kids about the outburst.  But it alerts me that Lyme is affecting the emotions again.  And no, this was not PMS.  After PMS outbursts, the negative, angry feelings linger on, for me anyway.  The little mental black rain cloud with Lyme is quick entry, sudden departure.  Both PMS and Lyme leave the same kind of aftermath of hurt feelings and much apologizing on my part.

I woke this morning and talked with the girls and my husband and although everything was fine, the question remained, summer on or summer off?  I asked the girls and they both wanted summer on, they liked being on schedule.  I'm glad they both proved all my negativism wrong.

Tired Homemaker

I believe that a wife is take care of the home.  I'm all for working outside of the home.  I'm a working mom and wife and I like having my own money.  But outside of my job, my primary responsibility is the home. But on the subject about homemaking, any working mom will tell you the last thing she wants to do is cook or clean after being at work for 8 hours.  Doesn't matter if you love homemaking or you delegate it to others.  After work, you want to be d.o.n.e.

Add 5 kids, a husband, and Lyme, and you have one tired momma.

Since I like to be daring, I like to throw into the mix of going to school part time after work.

And now you have one exhausted momma.

Last night, that was me.  Between working with my boss, running around for a committee at work, going to a social function with my toxic lover ice cream, and being insulted about my size, I was pretty tired.  Another perk of Lyme are involuntary muscle twitches.  Mine happen to focus underneath my left eye.  And stress will set it off.  So I'm talking with my boss and my eye is spazzing.  I know it must look like I'm psycho.

I went to class, after venting to my patient spouse (who needs his own blog posting on his awesomeness with dealing with this) on the way there.  I love my class, Interpersonal Communications for my paralegal degree.  I've had my professor before and he's hilarious.  I never knew law was entertaining until I went into his Criminal Justice class a few years ago.  Anyway, as we're going in class, and I'm soaking up all this info, it felt like someone suddenly stabbed a sharp needle into my left bicep.  I almost cried out it was so painful.  And it left an ache that was a mix between sharp and sore.  I tried to concentrate on my class and the nausea swept over and I thought I had to run out of class.  I gulped down my water in hopes it would squash the nausea and it kept it at bay.  But my bicep was sore.

I notice that I write exciting adjectives and explanations about the symptoms and that most, if not all, of the sensations are sudden.  But it's how it feels to me.  They're like kamikaze bombers coming out of the fog.  Out of nowhere with the intention of taking you down with them.

I made a mental list on the way to my car after class of all of what needs to be done.

• Make dish washing soap (we're green and frugal at my house)
• Go on cozi.com to our family's calendar and to do list 
• Make our grocery list for Friday (it's payday and the boys are coming this weekend)
• Go to my Springpad, where I keep all of my folders electronically to keep me organized, and get out my special grocery list for my Lyme food
• Clean the kitchen
• Make bread and muffins for the girls and my husband for snack (I said we were frugal)
• Ask my husband how his day went
• Make sure the girls cleaned their room 
• Remind myself I need to pick up drycleaning
• Remind myself I need to bring the girls' language learning CDs back to the library
• Etc, etc, etc

I came home and did none of those things because it was 9:30 pm and I needed to take my pill.  And I felt nauseous but needed to eat.  My husband made me a delicious egg burrito (farm fresh eggs, a little bit of salsa, and cheese) and I took my doxy.  I did ask my husband how his day went and we talked for a bit about our day.  He's also discovering the coolness of streaming Netlfix, so he watched an episode of the Office that I thought he would find funny as I went to bed.  I heard him laughing as I kissed my children and I knew all was well.

Pregnant

Just in case you thought I was exaggerating about this whole pregnancy/bloating thing, I just went to help at a social function at work and someone asked me when I'm due.

ARGH!

What is it about people these days who think that they can ask that question?!  I mean really?!  Maybe their momma's neglected People Interaction 101, but good grief!  My mom always said to never ask a woman if she's pregnant.  Never!  Because, like in my constant experience, if they're not pregnant, then you look like a fool.

But what about the insulted female?  Most likely she feels that if it's socially acceptable for you to be an asshole, then it's perfectly acceptable to give you a kick in the ass.  Since she's not pregnant anyway.

I'm sick.  I'm freaking sick with a disease that I can't control and don't want.  I'm on a medicine that bloats you further.  I mean, Jesus!  I didn't even eat lunch today!  I choked down breakfast so I could have a pill that makes me nauseated and bloated so I could skip lunch because food was unbearable to have one cup of ice cream and toppings because it was socially acceptable so I could be insulted about a bloating problem that started with a freaking pill!!!!  God!  Being in pain sucks but being insulted because basically people think you look fat is just the suckiest thing I can think of.  The culture now makes it so that if you want to insult someone, ask them if they're pregnant because then it makes the fool asker seem kind.  When they're not.  They're just a nosy, self righteous asshole.  I hate this disease because I work too damn hard working out, eating right, to have people ask me questions like that.  So, if I looked really fat and not pregnant, would I be more accepted?

Asshole.  And you know what?  These questions come from females!  No man has stepped up to me and asked me that question.  But a woman?  Especially one who's smaller than me, will ask.  Does it make you feel better that you're thinner than me???  ARGH!!!

Ebb and Flow

Today has been one of those roller coaster days.  It's been either I have energy and feel like myself or it's like someone pulled the energy plug.  Pain wise, same deal.  Either it's been fine (or I've ignored it and did what I had to do) or it's been achy and sometimes sharp.

But this nausea is just...ugh.  At first I thought it was from doxy being doxy, evil and manipulating.  But I'm finding I'm having nausea all day.  I'm hungry but nothing is appetizing because I think it'll make me nauseous.  So as I'm holding off food, the nausea gets worse.  I finally eat something and then a new, more intense wave of nausea goes through.  Gratefully it's just nausea and not more.  Which is good because I don't want
a) she's pregnant when I protest it's just the bloating and then they point to me losing my food as proof of pregnancy or
b) pity because I'm sick.

I've dealt with pity at work before.  And as a strong woman, it's unnerving.  An understanding or kind soul is one thing.  Someone looking at you like you're just weak and, well, pitiful, is another.  Lyme is humbling enough when you're not sure what part of your body is going to be attacked.  Like today, as I'm sitting at my desk working, even now as I'm typing, that feeling that someone is squashing and squeezing my neck was almost unbearable and then it stopped.  To go to my lymph nodes and swell and become painful.  Then travel back to my elbow and shoulder joints, just because.  There's no rhyme or reason other than, it hurts and you want it to go away but nothing works.  So to be double humiliated with co-workers pitying on you does nothing for the self esteem but make want to whine in self-pity "Why me?!"  But, I tell myself, why me?  Because only a strong person can handle it and God thought that person is me, so let's own it.

And that line of reasoning works.  Sometimes.