Of Needles, Nausea, and Inspiration

I've caught myself accidentally wincing a few times lately. I'm not proud to admit this, but it's a consequence of full disclosure. My antibiotic shots have been making it less than pleasant to sit, roll over in bed, or get up from any "not already up" position I might be in. The last time I did this was May through October of last year. It's like my muscles remembers the needles. I'm not even a week into my routine and already, I have a boycotting butt. Some days, I swear it is trying to make my life difficult (clearly, on these days, I have gone crazy).

I do 1 gram of Rocephin in each cheek, at night. Sometimes, I have to put the needle in three or four times in one side to be successful. And, we aren't talking tiny needles either. I think the scar tissue from my last shoot 'em up frenzy didn't fully heal, although before this, I'd never know otherwise. I had no pain, only a few small bruises that hadn't quite disappeared completely. But, often when I try to inject the medicine, the syringe won't budge. There is nowhere for the liquid to go. Memories of last summer race through my head......I'm trying to find the "good" spots, I'm sitting on ice, applying bruising cream, searching desperately like I'm in a scavenger hunt for please, just one more spot. My sweet friend Elaine would help me assess the "no more needles" areas according to how rock hard they had become. "This is going to be a long thirty days," I think quite often now. But the Virgo in me will see it through to the end. No spot will go left un-shot.

Just as predicted, my days of overconsuming food are slowly calming down. I'm still hungrier than I was pre-stem cells, but now I have an underlying nausea that makes me often smell things that aren't there (like, eggs and vinegar). This triggers my queasy button and the heights of my appetite come crashing down. My already sensitive nose is even more sensitive. My stomach gurgles like it's in an argument with itself after I eat. I'm sure the sensitive sniffer is from my hormones (thanks baby stem cells) and the not so happy tummy is from hard hitting antibiotics.

Just as I was mixing my shots last night, having a slightly bad attitude about it (yes, it happens occasionally), I noticed my phone was blinking. I had missed a call from a newfound friend that was hoping to go to India. I listened to the first part of the message, which said he had news to tell me. He sounded like he had just gotten back from a brisk walk (which I had doubted due to his condition). I quickly deleted the message and called him back. He was accepted by Dr. Geeta Shroff to go "as soon as possible!" I could tell he would have already been packing if he really could go right away. Now comes the journey of visas and passports and deciding what to pack (possibly the hardest part of the trip other than the flight). I have a feeling about this man and his wife. I'm intuitive by nature and I can't stop thinking yesterday was the first day of the rest of their lives. After 12 years of suffering with his near impossible disease, I could sense the overwhelming hope in his voice. He had a readiness I've never heard. One far stronger than I had before I went. I knew from the first time I received an e-mail from him, that he would go, and get well.

Last night, my shots went amazingly smooth. One poke in each side only. The plunger on the syringe didn't fight me. My nausea settled enough to allow me to eat a snack at midnight when I finally got hungry. All of these obstacles suddenly seemed so tiny in the grand of things. As I nurture my body through the inconveniences of swallowing pills, mixing meds, sterilizing supplies and all of the rest of it to keep my baby stem cells safe -- it seems new hope is being born in other lives as mine moves forward.

My new friend has the most incredible gratitude for this opportunity. He never stops thanking me for my support, advice and for making this a real possibility for other patients. He always wants to know what he can do to return the favor. My answer is always the same: pay it forward.

Some of the things I'm going through now are in hopes that the protocol for patients like me will be less wide open in the future. Lyme patients are all so different, sometimes with no similar symptoms at all, so I'm sure Dr. Geeta Shroff's treatment will always be somewhat tailored. But, I hope I can pave even just a rough path.

Until then, the shots will continue for the thirty days, I will find a way to keep my stem cells fed even through this placebo seasickness, and I will always remember on my bad days, my friend's voice on the phone.

I've been hiking further and further lately continuing to build my muscle and encouraging the continued function of my baby stem cells. Sometimes I see something on the ground and I crouch down to watch it. I get up with no thought until after, that just months before this, I couldn't even bend because my knees were so damaged, let alone get up by myself with ease. "I lead an insanely lucky life," I tell myself constantly. Indeed I do.....bummin' booty and all.

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About Amy B. Scher

A passionate author, pioneering patient, and sassy spirit with just enough sweetness to get me by, I live by my self-created motto: when life kicks your ass, kick back.Amy B. Scher's profile Amy B. Scher's blog