- You’ve had a colonoscopy before your 30th birthday.
- You consider going to the ER for chest pain and shortness of breath, but eventually decide it would be a waste of time and money because the last time you went with the same symptoms, all your tests were “normal.” You figure you’re just having a die-off reaction to your medication, so you do what you can to detox.
- You often pass on going to the ER when struck with symptoms that would have a normal person dialing 911. You’re used to these symptoms and don’t feel like dealing with ER doctors who, more than likely, don’t know a thing about late-stage Lyme Disease.
- You’ve had more than one doctor comment on the amount of medication you take, as though you delight in taking handfuls of pills everyday, not to mention the foul-tasting tinctures you take on top of the pills, and the mud-colored drinks you imbibe in an attempt to regain your health.
- You’re used to having to explain late-stage Lyme Disease and co-infections to new doctors you encounter. In fact, you’ve been asked by more than one medical professional where you received your medical training.
- Even your caregivers tire of hearing people tell you that, “You look great! You must be feeling better!” Your mother is ready with a canned response, so you don’t have to waste your breath explaining once again that how you look is not a valid measure of your health.
- You tell your mother to sit in the waiting room when you know you’ll be undergoing neural therapy at your bi-weekly doctor appointment, because she doesn’t handle needles well and you don’t want to traumatize her by making her watch as the doctor injects procaine into your scalp, your tonsils, your adenoids, your sinuses, your abdomen . . .
- As much as you hate the crown of thorns, you know you’ll feel more clearheaded once it’s done, so you subject yourself to the pain of 10-plus scalp injections.
- When your doctor tells you to take Vitamin C to bowel tolerance, you clear your schedule for the rest of the day because you’re resigned to the fact that you’ll be spending a good part of it in the bathroom.
- You’ve come to enjoy getting brain MRIs. You find the pounding of the machine soothing and use the time to take a quick nap.
- You can’t help but laugh when, just before sticking you with a needle, a phlebotomist tells you “This might hurt just a little!” After 16 weeks of IM Bicillin injections into your rear end, the discomfort from a needle in your arm doesn’t even register on your pain scale.
- You’re not really fazed when you feel your spleen twitching. You run it by your friends, who’ve experienced similar twitches, and decide you’ll simply bring it up with your doctor at your next appointment.
- Your mother knows that, when you tell her you feel like your brain is too big for your skull, it’s going to be a BAD day and she just tries to make you as comfortable as possible. She doesn’t even bug you about the fact that you drink meal replacement shakes for 2 out of 3 meals; she knows how nauseous you get from these headaches.
- Though she still refers to your LLMD as a “witch doctor,” your mother has come to believe in the validity and efficacy of energy medicine and all sorts of ‘alternative’ medical techniques she’d have scoffed at only a year ago. (Your father doesn’t quite ‘get’ what it is that your doctor does, but he respects your choices and has seen the difference in your health since you began seeing the “witch doctor.”)
- Your family members come to you with their medical questions because they know that even if you don’t have the answer, you’ll find it out or direct them to someone who knows. More often than not, if the question is medication-related, you know the answer.
- Your close family and friends know to immediately put you down as a “maybe” for any event that requires an RSVP. They understand that you have good days and bad days, and you won’t know if you can attend a function until you wake up that morning and assess your pain and energy levels.
- Your parents and sisters take note of restaurants that are Lyme-friendly (i.e., they offer gluten-free dishes, organic meats & veggies, etc.) and excitedly recommend them to you.
- Your girlfriend researches gluten-free alternatives to meals & deserts you love and cooks/bakes them for you every chance she gets. (She’s totally a keeper!)
- When traveling, your parents know to make sure there’s a refrigerator in your hotel room for your probiotics.
- Also, when traveling, no one bats an eye when you order 8 large bottles of spring water from room service. You can’t drink tap water (too many impurities and metals), and 8 bottles is usually enough to last you about 24 hours.
- Your sisters aren’t too fazed by your face mask anymore when you pull it out in public.
- Your mother no longer wears perfume and is learning to clean with natural cleaning products in order to make your environment more friendly for you and healthy in general.
- Everyday conversations with friends, more often than not, meander toward the topic of bowel movements (too frequent, too infrequent, consistency, etc.).
- There is no longer any such thing as TMI (too much information) when talking with friends who also have Lyme.
- You forget that the dinner table is not the place to bring up the subject of bowel movements. In fact, you forget this quite often because your memory sucks, but eventually your family learns to tune you out.
Do you have anything to add to the list? Leave it in the comments!
