My last time I wrote about my personal story, I was infusing with my morning Clindamycin. It was a very slow going morning. I stayed in my pajamas while doing my IV, then a half ass bath. A little dry shampoo and a little extra deodorant. Where did I put my clothes? Oh wait… I never grabbed any. Brrrr…. Ok, found clothes. Damnit, I don’t like these pants. Thank you ass for getting bigger since I had my antibiotic break in May. Found pants that I don’t have a muffin top. Put my face on. Well, kind of. My Dad calls, “Are you okay? Coming to work?” Ok, I need to get my butt into gear, but just one more minute more on the couch. I can’t wait until I get home from work and take a nap. Oh wait, I need to go to work! As I get ready to leave, a package comes in for my B-12 shots, which I need to take care of since it is a refrigerated item. And finally, away I went!
Not a lot of work to do, but I dubbed quite a bit. My Dad wasn’t a help either. He knocked on the office door, and came in with a baby turtle. And then two. I was so excited since I had never seen baby turtles before, so he brought them down to the pond that is right near their house. Every year the Momma turtles always like to lay eggs at my parents house, but I have never seen them make their journey back to the pond. He rescued about a half dozen of them. I finished some of what I needed to do, but was more productive in the sense I wrote notes about things I need to do. LOL
The rest of the day was fairly unproductive as well. I was starting to get loopy, as well as my tired and sore, so I just watched reruns of Grey’s. I did finally get up and cook dinner. Veggies, turkey sausage, and tomato sauce for me, a side of pasta to go along with it for Dave. Even knowing I was going to be sitting on the couch basically the rest of the night, I just didn’t want to do anything. The start of this month has put me in an unmotivational funk.
I don’t care how bad I feel, I need to get off my ass and throw a batch in the laundry! Do something. Anything. Ugh, I hate this. I’ve had more days than not during treatment that I have been throwing up, unable to stand more than just a few short minutes, in a very Parkinson’s like state with horrible tics, exhausted to the point of collapsing, and I still got off my ass. I don’t know how but I did. Maybe it is because I didn’t have a choice. I went to work everyday. And at home I would vacuum one carpet and lay down. Vacuum another, lay down. Clean my bathroom sink, lay down. You get the idea.
Mind over matter. It’s a strong and powerful thing that I believe in immensely. It drives me nuts to see an ounce of dirt or pet hair on my floor or any dust. Yet I now stare at it, and do absolutely nothing. It’s not like Dave doesn’t help, he does TONS, but in doing everything else, he sometimes just doesn’t get the daily cleaning things done. Men don’t see that stuff like women do. And that’s okay. I don’t need or want help, I just need to get up and do it. But all I can think about is sleep. Or how much my night time IVs suck.
And they did. I did my clindamycin IV with no issues. Same old dandelion taste in my mouth. And then came the Zithro IV. The dreaded Zithro.
Word of the wise, if a doctor tells you to do something a certain way, you listen. Don’t deviate from what you are told to save time, even though you are going to be sitting your ass on the couch anyways. Like this dumbass right here.
It was killing me looking at the one large bag and seeing the little drops come down. One Mississippi, Twoooo Mississippiiiiii, Threeeeeee Mississippiiiiiiiii…. Yeah, fuck this. It takes about 2 1/2 hours. I was gonna try to make that bitch two hours, let’s get er’ cranking! Drop drop drop drop. Ok yeah! We are getting somewhere now!
And then the pain. The burning. My chest, my stomach, my veins. I started to feel myself black out from the pain, quickly shut down the drips, and I called Dave’s phone. I seriously thought I was going to die.
He was outside but he never hears me if I call out to him or hears his phone half of the time. I couldn’t move as I was just laying on my side, trying to breathe. This time, luckily, he was on the phone, but headed right inside as he saw me on his call waiting. He got right off the phone and I told him what had happened in my short breath, and he was so mad I was trying to get it to go faster, as there is obviously a reason it needs to be slow. It is time consuming and I need to deal with it.
Once I could breathe and no longer felt like my insides were burning and starting to melt, I had some Lyme rage on him for not answering his phone, even though he came right inside. I just wanted to be mad at someone, I was still in so much pain, and it is easier for me to just be mad even though this was completely my own fault, and he was in plain sight. He forgave me for being Crazy Kimmie, and sat with me while I did the rest of my 2 1/2 hour drip. He is a good guy.
The rest of the night wasn’t as bad as the first night of this protocol, but I did start to shake (not nearly as bad as night one), and had a hard time washing my face as my legs were wobbly, much like a baby deer. Sleep. My dreams of a day in bed on Thursday were only a dream. Like I said, since other than payroll and a few other things, the most productive thing I did in my workday was notes of things I needed to do. I stayed in bed, as long as possible, feeling miserable, but found the motivation inside of me as I needed to get myself to work, even though it was my day off, and be productive.