A Shot in the Leg and, What's Up With That Grass?

In my last blog, I rolled out the welcome mat for my new Lyme treatment—deep intramuscular injections of Bicillin L-A every three days. I'm tolerating the injections now—a little over a month into starting them, although, I am only at half the target dose. Since I'm prone to getting migraines from a whole host of substances (concentrated soy—as in soy flour and soy protein; coconut—but not coconut oil; chicory root; a seizure medication called Trileptal; kava-kava—and a half dozen or so more), my prudent doctor started me on half the optimal dose. To muddle up a famous quote, with Lyme, the only thing you can predict is unpredictability itself. The unpredictability with my Bicillin L-A treatment came in the form of headaches (but not migraines), ear-ringing and digestive issues. Although none of those are uncommon side effects, I just didn't expect to have those side effects from a penicillin drug.

What's an anxious-to-get-better Lyme patient to do? Drop the dose down. Experiment. I cut the dose in half for a while and fell back on an old head-off-a-headache solution I learned about from a wise neurologist. Now, on my injection days, I drink two cups of coffee and down four ibuprofen tablets. Coffee's not the best thing for those of us with Lyme, but I decided that the benefits outweigh the negative in this case. Four ibuprofen is a lot too (800 mg), but for serious pain, that dose is routinely prescribed. I gradually upped my Bicillin L-A. Now, I am tolerating the whole (half-target) dose. I don't much care for the tinnitus (ear ringing)—it sounds much of the time as if a thousand crickets are in my ears. It may be temporary; it may be permanent. But I'd rather get used to a chorus of crickets than live with Lyme. I am still working on balancing the digestive issues. But I'm getting there; I'm progressing, and some more overall improvements have been made. Now that I'm not sporting a foot cast, I am out walking a bit in the woods. The exercise is good in many ways (of course), but it plays a key role in helping the digestive tract move along.

I have periods of time (usually around a week) of sliding back with symptom flare-ups and all I can do is remind myself that my medicine must be working. More Lyme is dying off in my body and as it does so, its toxins are released, causing symptoms to go haywire for a time. If the time between flare-ups gradually lengthens, then I will be jumping for joy. But with caution. Remembering that with Lyme, no surety is for sure and no magic pill is to be found. The protocol for each patient must be customized and adjusted along the way. Here's to ramping up to the full target dose. All this skirts around the issue that by most accounts (and I would agree), deep intramuscular Bicillin L-A injections are one of the most painful injections you might receive (or, in this case, inject yourself). But again, having one painful leg for three days and then switching legs for the next shot means that I can adjust my sleeping position as needed, or when taking photos in the woods, I can use the least-sore leg to move about if I bend down to shoot (no pun intended) a picture of a flower. It's the positive outweighing the negative again.

Speaking of getting out in the woods, did I mention green grass? Yes, I did. I refer to the background of green grass you see on my blog page (prime habitat for those nasty ticks!). And I promise more on that next time around.

New Treatment: Giddyup!

A little bit ago on this blog, I bemoaned the side effects of my first Lyme treatment protocol. After experiencing those unsavory side effects, together with my doctor, I made the decision to stop treatment to let my system clear out—most notably a) my digestive system, and b) whatever it was that had begun to discolor my teeth. A little over a month went by and things have cleared up.

Due to the time off of treatment, however, I've experienced a backslide in symptoms. My fatigue (probably the Lyme patient's biggest nemesis) has returned; the stabbing and burning pains have returned—not as bad as before initial treatment, but distressingly so. The "wall" (of fatigue, and with it, frustration) comes down earlier and earlier in the day. The burning pains feel like I'm constantly being sunburned. The stabbing is my favorite symptom (everything is relative!) as it comes and goes so quickly.

With the arrival of spring comes a new plan of action. Instead of two types of oral antibiotics which caused the aforementioned side effects, we opted for injections of Bicillin LA. No problem, I thought! After all, I wanted to be a nurse, needles don't bother me, and I actually wanted to be a phlebotomist! I give myself injections of Imitrex for migraines! Jump ahead to: Here comes visiting nurse to show me how to do the injections. I almost fainted. I said, I could cross-stitch with that needle! But she showed me how to use it, and although it really hurt for three days (it has to be done in the large muscle in the thigh), it is short-term pain in my viewpoint. In that I'll get better and better at it, and I only have to have to stab myself every three days, so one leg may hurt for three days, but then it gets a break! And we are treating the Lyme with a protocol that is showing promising results. And most importantly, this time period in my life is going to seem short-term when I am well and look back on it.

When I realized I was going to have to go off of the first treatment plan, I was fairly distraught. I thought, This is it, I have to stop treatment. I'll never get my life back. But there is always hope, a new plan—a different plan—a course of action. Giddyup!