Oh how remiss!

I don't have time to post much, but I realized I hadn't posted in 10 whole days, so DON'T WORRY, INTERNETZ FRIENDS!  I'm still alive, and I'll post later about the foods I can eat that replace my old comfort foods.   I'm still following along with all of your blogs, and I have much love for you all!

My new hobby-- cartooning my way through my week.

TMI Thursdays... kind of.

My new favorite humor/life blogger, Lilu, started this blog trend called "TMI Thursdays."  Now, to preface this post, this is not your average TMI Thursday post.  So, Lilu, I adore you and read these posts voraciously, but you should probably not share this one with your readers, seeing as illness tends to make people way more uncomfortable than lewdness, drunkness, and STDs... put together.

Sad, but true?

Anyway, in mild concurrence with the spirit of the event, I must confide that I am slightly drunk.  Yup. Had multiple glasses of a really classy wine with the moniker, "Cat Pee."  I'm a *classy* gal, yessiree.

I do not drink that often since it sometimes interferes with my many, many meds.  You guys probably understand this.

But, you (hopefully!) also may have read my post where I shared, among other things, my undying love for anything Italian.  This love DEFINITELY extends to wine.  And pasta.   And really good pizza that you can only find in Italy.  And clothes.  Oh, and did I mention, WINE AND PASTA.

(Sigh).

Thanks for the many congratulations on my recent Lyme diagnosis.  I too am thrilled to have an answer (though, as we know, in medical things, it may not be the only answer) and a clear (well, sort of) treatment path.  But, here's the kicker:

Once again, there is no quick fix, no magic pill, no easy out.  The goal here is to put the Lyme into remission, not cure it completely (since that's not possible).  That means that many of the changes I have to make (on top of the MANY changes I've already made) have to be permanent.  This isn't a "I'll do this to get better, then go back to my normal life" type of treatment.

Anyway, Lyme bacteria feed on sugars and carbs, much like myself.  In order to get rid of these Lymie nuisances, I have to eliminate sugar and carbs from my diet.  That means no pasta, no bread, no coffee (except decaf, sugar-free), no soda (same as coffee), no ORANGE JUICE (which I drink every morning) or fruit juice or sugary fruits of any kind, no cereal, and, most devastatingly, NO WINE WHATSOEVER.

*Sobs softly.*

The addition of antibiotics makes this new diet even MORE important since the antibiotics will target all bacteria, good AND bad, and I want to give the good kind more of a fighting chance than the bad, Lymey kind.  Also, long-term antibiotics can lead to really gross side effects like thrush, where bad bacteria grow all up in your mouth and turn your tongue beige, then they go into your digestive track and cause all kinds of nasty business.  Not cute.

(Oh yeah, that bacteria grossness? That's just the beginning of my TMI Thursday).

In addition to this grossness, I also have something called Babesia, a co-infection for Lyme disease.  It's a parasite, ya'll.  How gross is that?  It's born in the tick, moves through the deer, my cat, and finally onto me, where it gestates and breeds and junk.  SICK.  So I'm going on treatment for that as well, and my new diet will help there as well.

Some of you that have chronic illnesses that severely limit your diets will probably think I'm being a big baby, and I totally am.  But I've given up my lifestyle and my independence already.  I've been lucky enough to not have to diet for weight reasons, and when I've eaten healthier the last couple years, it's definitely been fruit-intensive (now off-limits).

So I'm whiny.  A bit whiny.  But I'm going to try to make this my last whiny post.  I'm already looking up great recipes on Lymenaide; I'm remembering my love for Lyme-ok'd foods like goat cheese, avocado, and tofu; and I'm currently having my last big hoo-rah.  Yeah, you heard me right.  I'm hoo-rah-ing.  I don't start antibiotics til tomorrow, so today I had a sub, pasta, and a ton of wine.  I also had a Starbucks latte and a regular cherry coke.  Basically, I ate terribly today, because baby, this is my Fat Tuesday, and my Lent's going to last a long frikkin' time.

I'm still so grateful for my diagnosis.  I'm 100% willing and ready to go every mile I can.  Nothing is equal in worth to gaining back my life and my freedom.

But...

Gah, this wine is GOOD.

Lots of drunk-punch-love to you all,
Robyn

**What about your illness grosses you out the most?  Feel free to share... we know how it is. :-/

There's no cure for stoopid.

My probable prognosis at tomorrow's doctor's appointment:

 

Damn.  Well, at least we tried.

I was supposed to have a counseling appointment this morning, but woke up a) VERY late, and b) a dizzy disaster.  I almost fell down the stairs before realizing that getting to my appointment in 20 minutes was so not going to happen.  I called the secretary to let her know... and that's how that poor woman took the brunt of 3 weeks of my mistreatment at the hands of people who control my fate.

The conversation went something like this:

Secretary: Hello?

Me: Yes, hi, I'd like to postpone my appointment for today.  I'm really not feeling well, and I'm not going to make it.

Secretary looks me up in computer.

S: Plus your appointment starts at 2, and you're not here.  

Me: *Awkward silence.*

S: Well, there's going to be a late fee you know, because you should have called us 24 hours ago.  And the counselor's booked for the next week, so I can't reschedule you til next Tuesday.  And you really should have--

I now may or may not have interrupted her by bursting into tears like the well-medicated, composed adult that I am.

Me: Can I just say something? *sob* I can't control when I get sick.  I don't know it beforehand.  You are about the fifth person this week (please note that it's only Monday) who has been unsympathetic toward me, and I would just appreciate it if you could at least try to not act like you don't care. *blows nose.*

S: Oh my gosh, ma'am, I'm so sorry.  I really didn't mean... I think you misunderstood... it's doctor's policy, you know, it's not in my control... I was preoccupied...

Unfortunately, by this point I was too focused on re-controlling my crazy to properly apologize for the outburst that truly belonged to a certain middle-aged man who hates sick people (again, an exaggeration... I'm trying to be entertaining here, people, sheesh).

So there you have it.  I am now phone-bombing people with my emotions.  But I learned a valuable lesson today-- the customer is *not* always right, but the customer who cries sure as hell is.

(Also, sorry to those of you who read my other blog too... yes, I reused this picture.  I cried today, people.  I'm exhausted!)

Wishing you all better luck than me with the rest of the world,
Robyn

Awards for everyone!

Thanks everyone for your showing your support after my last post. :)  I told my mom that if we could all just get better already, I could lead a formerly-chronically-ill army against my #$%$-hole of a professor.  Unfortunately, I continued to tell her, it was time for my afternoon nap.  C'est la vie... d'chronic fatigue? (Ok, I don't really speak French).

Anyway, I've previously expressed my undying love for the Bloggess, no?  The Bloggies stole yet another award from my favorite fellow anxieteur/cat lady (the first word's my own creation), so she went ahead and made her own award.  A bunch of them actually.  And she said we could take whatever we want.  A grab bag of free awards!

I found the following particularly appropriate for the chronic illness community:

 

You should put it on your blog too.  Because if we don't deserve this award, ain't no one who does. 

(Ok, fine, there are probably lots of other people who do, including cancer survivors and those who have been through civil wars and national disasters and the like... but just for one, would you not argue with me, rational side of my brain?? Thanks.  'Preesh.)

Death warmed over.

Yup, that's pretty much how I feel too, kitty cats.

No class for this one tonight, just lots of rest... as in slept til 3, slugged around the house til dinnertime, then took a post-dinner nap, and is now about to go back to sleep again.

Blurgh.

I'm having trouble getting a deep breath lately, and I'm tempted to pop open the rescue inhaler I have from the allergist, but I just can't fathom starting yet another medication.  I'm out of depression meds, so a trip to the pharmacy tomorrow is crucial to avoid yet more crying at episodes of "How I Met Your Mother." (I don't know, it happens... shutupleavemealone).  I feel like I have the flu, but no temperature means that I just have the ol' chronic fatigue/Lyme disease crash happening, so that's fun.  Blurgh again.

I'm a week late on a paper for one of my classes, which is why I even went to school last night feeling so bad.  I had sent an email, but he hadn't read it because public school professors don't give a crap the way private school ones do, so in some ways, I actually missed Wake last night.  I tried to explain to him my condition... I have CFS and Lyme disease and depression and sometimes I crash and I'm in the middle of a big ol' nasty crash.  I told him how I'd barely gotten out of bed and how I'd been sleeping 12 hours.  His answer, unsurprisingly, was basically "tough noogies." 

He reminded me that other kids in the class had problems I didn't know about, as if I didn't realize other people have problems, thanks, and he pointed out that if I were late turning in something for a job, I would be fired.  I pointed out that I wouldn't be able to hold down a job right now anyway, which is why I'm only taking two classes and living at home for goodness' sake.  He suggested I quit school, which is also nothing new, and I politely replied that that was not really an option and informed him I had already been out of school for a year.  I forgot to mention that I'm 23 damn years old and I would like to be finished with school, please, so that maybe once I'm better I can embark on my adult life.  I then held back my tears until I got into the school bathroom, where I started a cry-laugh crazy person combo that lasted me most of the hour-long drive home.

Anyway, we finally came to the agreement that I would turn in the paper tomorrow (Wednesday), he would give me some points, and I would not be late again.  While his complete lack of sympathy was disappointing (but, I mention again, decisively unsurprising), the truth is that all I need is a C in this class because the grade doesn't transfer to my Wake GPA anyway.  Also, while most well people might not understand this, I'm giving myself points for showing up at all.  It took all my deep breathing techniques to keep my anxiety at bay, and my old self absolutely would have just avoided this problem as long as possible, making it worse and worse.  So even though I've messed up, again, I'm proud of myself for taking my big-girl pill and just facing the world head-on, even if it doesn't understand anything I'm going through.

And now I'm crying again.  Damn you, depression, for turning me into a loser who cries. Now I'm laughing AND crying.  Shit, I'm a real crazy face.

(Sorry for all the cursing, interwebs.)