Last post I shared my struggles with the influx of work at the shelter and the horrible adventure with my transportation. I had hoped my year would only go up from there, honestly what else could happen? Well, I could get horribly sick for almost two months.
Little back story, I am terrified of vomiting. It is just one of those phobias that I would rather shoot myself in the foot if it would mean I would never be sick again. Weird thing is I wasn't a sickly kid, and until the beginning of this year I hadn't thrown up since elementary school (in February I got a stomach bug, in March I got food poisoning). Come fall, I am all the sudden having episodes of feeling possibly nauseous that send me into a panic. Panics that escalated to the point I needed medication to calm myself down. I start having stomach cramps and bad intestinal issues, I shall spare you the details. I bring this up at a routine doctor's visit, she diagnosed me with IBS. And while depression runs in my family and I am on a low dose of anti-depressants, I have had a digestive tract of steel most of my life. They up my normal meds and say to check back in a month. Month later, still having stomach issues but the panic attacks are slightly better. They want to put me on an elimination diet, cutting out almost everything you would identify as edible to figure out what causes my intestines to act up. I burst into tears in my car. Food is a real struggle for me; I was never taught how to cook for myself but I love to eat. I am now trying to learn as an adult how to plan, shop, and cook healthy. The idea that even things like fresh fruits, cheeses, and grains are off limits- I was going to starve. (and I know I am being dramatic, there are plenty of people that have to be on limited diets and make delicious meals, but I struggle when something doesn't come in a box). I promptly devoured a large chocolate bar with the thought "if my IBS is caused by stress, and this diet stresses me out- ergo, screw the diet".
A few days after the second doctor visit, I received a call about my bloodwork. I was positive for Lyme disease. I had requested the test with my routine blood work given my line of work, though I had never seen a tick bite me. The doctors and nurse told me Lyme would not cause my symptoms, it causes "fatigue like the flu, muscle ache, and a bull's eye rash at the bite". It was basically straight from a text book and differed greatly from every first hand account of being infected I heard. My one coworker discovered she had it for years, she developed muscle ticks and would get random high fevers. A friend had a relative become extremely paranoid, to the point he was hospitalized. Once given an antibiotic though, he returned to normal. My vet at work even said that Lyme affects the muscles and what is your intestine made of? One large muscle!
It has been roughly two weeks I've been on antibiotics and most of my symptoms have subsided if not dissolved completely. My intestines are still wonky at times, but antibiotics can throw that out of whack too. My anxiety of being sick has dropped drastically, though not disappeared entirely.
Now I am telling everyone about how I have Lyme, because I never would have guessed that I had it and it was the cause of my problems. While I work with animals, I have never pulled a tick of myself (and I have no issues dancing in front of a mirror before hopping in the shower every night) and I live in a populated suburb. I have been telling everyone I know to get tested. It is a serious issue, especially in this part of the country, and unfortunately the (human) medical field isn't being as proactive as they should.
On the topic of tiny houses, the subject of this blog, I recently purchased the book Tiny House Decisions. I shall post my thoughts on it soon, along with other tiny house news.
Now go get tested for Lyme!
The journal of a girl's adventure into the world of tiny homes, as she works to build her very own in western Pennsylvania.
