I was delighted to be surprised by a text from the Engineer yesterday. He was in town for the weekend and so we agreed to meet up for breakfast this morning. This was my first big chance to prove to myself that I could stick to my Lyme protocol schedule and "have a normal life" at the same time. HA!
When the first drug alarm rang I hopped right up, downed only ONE pill, drank some water and went back to bed. So good so far. Then 2.5 hours later the second alarm rang. Hopped right up, took the drugs to counter the first drugs and went back to bed. So good so far. (Except I did know at some point I WAS going to have to get up, get dressed, and act like a MOM.) I could deny it no longer when I got a text reading, "I'm on my way." My four sons range from 23 -32 and if there's one thing I know for SURE about them it's that they want NO PART, I repeat, NO PART of seeing me in anything but full dress. Even jammies and a robe makes them slightly uncomfortable. So I hopped out of bed and into the shower where it hit me. I was gonna puke. Not that "I have some throw up in my mouth" kind of puke but hurl. My meds and counter meds had been in me long enough for me to know it was safe ... not that THAT was going to stop anything, and once again I realized I just LIVE in my body. I do not always control it.
Twenty minutes later when there was a knock at the door I had cleaned things up (myself included), gotten dressed, brushed my teeth several times, and I do believe I was wearing earrings. Things are going well for the Engineer and we drove in his work purchased vehicle ... which is a whoooole lot nicer than any vehicle I've ever owned ... or ever will, for that matter. It has a "nice ride." A little TOO nice, if you asked my stomach ... which I was praying would NOT make itself known because I can assure you, mom puke would be a whooooole LOT more terrifying than mom jammies. Especially in one's 23 year old's brand new car, for BOTH the driver and the passenger (moi.) We got to our destination and were quickly seated (thank you, thank you) and although a very cute 2.5 year old was screaming about Easter candy just a couple of tables over, the Engineer and I enjoyed a lovely time.
Just in case I haven't made this abundantly clear, I LOVE my sons and cherish every single moment I have with them alone and together. It thrilled me to no END that the Entrepreneur was driving a little faster to make it "home" in time to see the Engineer before he headed off to watch U of M kick some March Madness ass. Breakfast was good ... and I found something on the menu I could kind of eat. Bacon, eggs, and green tea. GO ME.
When I got home I showed off my "guns." Yup. My biceps are looking GOOD thanks to those 2 lb. weights from TJ Maxx and I'm gonna show 'em off to every son and DIL I can get my hands on. Last night Vito repeatedly asked just how many times I was going to make him feel my biceps and pronounce them "ripped;" and although he played along, the Engineer declined upon my second offer/request to "feel my guns." Undaunted I changed into a T shirt so he could SEE that I actually have a line in my flesh that announces, "THIS WOMAN READS PINTEREST AND DOES EXERCISES FOUND THERE." I will admit he was visually impressed. He actually raised his 23 year old eyebrows and then suggested how I could do squats w/out weights to begin to regain some muscle, oh ... ANY muscle on my pretty much wasted legs. So I did three squats and got all hot and sweaty. Despite a brief convo about the benefits of detoxing through sweat via urine, I knew this was not detox sweating. This was, yeah ... that again. I excused myself, lay down on my bed, did some deep breathing, and prayed the Entrepreneur would get there quickly. And bless his 25 year old heart, he DID! There were about 15 minutes of brotherly posturing and bantering before they announced they both needed to get going. (I hate that. BOTH? At ONCE? Really!?!)
After a minor flurry of hugging and kissing, getting a little weepy, and asking for just one more hug (they oblige in that area as long as mom jammies are not involved) they were gone almost as quickly as they had come. A text and boom. Done.
I'll be honest, I was a bit relieved as I was tired, too full, and getting that gross kind of sweaty. Then my alarm rang. Oh yeah. "The shake." I don't think we've discussed "the shake" before. It's a concoction of vitamins, oils, unsweetened coconut milk, protein powder, and frozen strawberries that "tastes GREAT." Um. Not so much. It could be the Calamari oil ... that orange flavored stuff. I'm allergic to mollusks. Not intolerant. Allergic. And yeah, well ... I'm gonna guess you're smart enough to figure out what my symptoms look like. I knew I'd been pushing it with the uncertainty of the pedigree of an orange Calamari. I truly hadn't realized until yesterday that Calamari WERE mollusks! I googled them where I sadly learned they're not just mollusks, but shellfish. Things were not looking good for them. I know, I know. I was thinking things like lobster and shrimp were shellfish, and oysters and mussels were mollusks. How was I supposed to know where an orange flavored squid was going to align himself? Well, the nausea that would not end should have been my first clue.
I've known that mollusks are not my friends since a particularly nasty episode after a particularly delicious heap of mussels in ME, shortly after my divorce while sobbing in the arms of my best friend from high school. My kids have grown up adoring her. A definite DYT Type 1. Fun loving, spontaneous. SO not me. We lovingly call her the PSYCHOtherapist although she did a really good job before/during/after my divorce. Some day I'll write about her flying from ME to MI to teach me how to flirt. Sort form: I failed.
But back to crustaceans ... of which I'm still uncertain about squid. In order to be "compliant" (a term much loved by LLMDs world wide) a patient MUST follow the rules. So, to my two eggs lightly basted; two turkey sausages; and two strips of turkey bacon, I added "the shake" ... including the Calamari oil. And THAT is the last time I'll be doing THAT. Not just because tomorrow is Monday and I can go the health food store and pick up some flax seed oil (nom, nom) but because I spent the afternoon feeling both very "rumbly in my tumbly" (Winnie the Pooh, for those haven't memorized it) and sweaty. Again, not in the detox way.
Yet when it came time for my detox bath in I went ... sweating in the GOOD way. Having it run down my face and neck, into my eyes, between my fingers. All the gross stuff I'm starting to appreciate about detoxing. The salty GOODNESS of toxins leaving my body. I've learned to lounge while the water leaves the tub and my heart rate begins to return to normal before I stand up to rinse off one more time. I mean, who wants to sleep w/toxins? Certainly not me. My final shower is usually pretty quick in the hopes that my blood pressure won't tank and I won't end up sitting on the floor of the shower crying because I'm afraid to stand up. Lyme disease is demeaning to begin with. Just how many times does a grown woman need to crawl from the bathroom to the bedroom? Really. But tonight my BP stayed normal, or at least normal enough, and I showered quickly but happily until I bent over to get my towel off the floor and BOOM.
I am now cleaned up and have been in bed long enough that I am no longer sweating in that no good very bad way and can tell you four things with absolute certainty:
1. NO MORE MOLLUSKS EVER.
2. I WILL drag my exhausted toxic body to the health food store tomorrow and purchase flax seed oil.
3. I cannot remember the other two.
4. Just for good measure, I hate Lyme disease. Hate it. Hate it enough to endure this treatment so I can get what's left of my life back and WIN.
Oh. I remember.
3. I start my supplements tomorrow and there's nary a mollusk to be found (Vito and I read all the labels.)
4. I add in a new drug. Woot.