Friday, June 17, 2005

Bitch Time

I'm sitting here three hours after my afternoon antibiotic with my tongue and lips on fire again, my throat so inflammed from it that my ears burn. My stomach is puffed out like I'm six months pregnant. I won't even go into the dizzy part. I won't even go into how frustrated my doc gets because I seem to react adversely to every medication created by modern science. How can I blame him? I drive him nuts.

Only problem is that I have no choice with this med. It's been over two months now. An infection that was supposed to be killed in five days by Cipro still left symptoms after an extension to ten days. The symptoms were still there after ten, so I waited to see my CFIDS doc an hour's drive away, rather than go back to the walk-in clinic for this, around the block from my house. Another wider culture revealed a lurking 'resistant' bacteria. Twenty eight days on the med. Nada, though the med killed THAT bacteria. Symptoms still there.

This time my doc ordered a test that covered both arobic and anarobic bacteria, one not routinely done in the labs. Aha, another little bugger surfaced that was resistant to the antibiotic that killed the first one, finally.

Oh, it gets better. Two antibiotics would kill it. Period. That's all she wrote. I tried the one of choice and woke up gasping for air. It was terrifying and I probably should have gone to the Emergency Room, but as long as I could breath and it got better, I chose not to. Unless I thought I was in grave danger, I was more afraid that any med they gave me there might do just as much harm.

One med to go. This one. Now, three days into it, I don't know how I'll last out the next seven days and am wondering, too, if the ten day round is going to do it this time, either.

I feel crazy. The infection hurts enough, but to have the cure hurt even more really sucks.

I also always feel during these times how utterly alone any of us ultimately are in going through these experiences. I have good friends who care and thank god for that. I have a husband who ignored his cell phone all day on the day I had trouble breathing. Of course he didn't check on me. That's not his style. Of course I had the option of 911 if things got worse. My new best friend.

I'm tired. I've been through it all for too many years now. I'm back to pretending I'm a POW and saying 'if they could survive, I can'. A lot of people have it way worse than I do, but i still don't think that takes away my right to say ever so often, 'this is just the pits today'.

If you know how to teletransport, come rub my feet.

10 comments:

azure_erin said...

Oh, Pris! I want to cry. I am so sorry for the pain that you are suffering! I am a former sufferer of extreme allergic reactions, and I know the lip, tongue, throat, ear thing that you speak of. Torture. Pure torture. I am making a card with your name on it and putting it by my bedside so that I remember to pray for you without ceasing. I wish that I could teleport myself to your bedside and read to your from your favorite book of poems. Know that I am thinking of you, and praying for you. Mostly that your suffering will ease. I send my love across the internet.

Pris said...

Hi Erin
I wrote you to thank you for such kind words. Hope that email got to you. I'll imagine I can hear you reading those poems to me now. I send my love back to you.

Laryalee said...

Pris, how terrible...
my thoughts are with you --
I hope and pray that you'll soon
be feeling better.
You show such courage and determination ... I don't think I could handle something like this.
hugs,
Lary

Pris said...

Lary
I'm not so sure I can handle it , either. Was up from 2 30 on last night with the burning. Wandered the house at 3 30, trying to get my mind off the burning. Am solidly into that line between survival mode and despair mode.

azure_erin said...

Pris,

I got the post you left at ovenheads... thanks for the encouragement. But, no email... am wondering where you sent it? I sense the heart of your thanks from the few words written here... how unusual for me to count someone I do not really know a friend, and yet you are that.
Feel better, still praying...

Pris said...

hi erin
i count you as a friend, too. strange and nice how these things happen. i think i know what happened to the email. i sent it as a reply to the comment notification instead of clicking on your profile and going via mail there...sure that's what happend, in fact, since I had an odd 'mail cannot be delivered' thingie in my box later.

you take care, too.

Berenice said...

Hey Pris, you are the bravest person I know. A tough cookie. Hang in there, I am here for you. You know that I know how difficult breathing can be at times. Keep working on it. B xx

Pris said...

Hi B
Yes, I do know you understand that part first-hand, having lived with it. My breathing is better in general now. It's the burning that's most difficult to handle. God, let this round of antibiotics do the job!

Geoff said...

Pris, I wish I believed in prayer, so I could pray for you! As it is, you know that you are constantly in my, and Jill's thoughts.
How you keep writing this blog, and keep up with emails, knowing what you're going through, I just can't comprehend. You make me feel inadequate (not a feeling I'm used to lol) and I never complain about my little aches and pains now. Love from G & J.

Pris said...

Oh G...you always help and make me feel good. And goodness, you have reasons to complain, too, so please do so. And love back to you and Jill!!!