I know that I need to help us get to a place with Lyme disease where what happened to me this past week never happens to anyone else. I could have been using my platform to help raise awareness, and to help improve understanding. It’s a terrifying thing to live with, yet not many people know much about it - and I take my fair share of responsibility for that. I regret not having done more in the past to speak up about Lyme disease.
Healthy enough to live something approaching a normal life. It’s the only way to keep myself healthy enough to play the game that I love - healthy enough to do my job and earn the paycheck that supports my family. (Since I’m not a doctor, I say I have “chronic Lyme.” It’s a shorter way for me to say that this disease is still affecting me after more than a decade - I prefer it to the alternative, which is “Post-Treatment Lyme Disease Syndrome with a current active infection with a different strain of borrelia and bartonella as well as other co-infections.”) Taking 64 pills a day is the only way to keep my condition under any sort of control. I do it anyway because I have Lyme disease. It’s a never-ending, exhausting, miserable cycle. It’s literally an elaborate trick that you play on yourself - a lie that you tell your body so it keeps thinking everything is fine.
Longterm, taking that much medicine on that regular of a regimen is just straight-up bad for you. Or if it’s not killing me, directly, then I at least know one thing for sure: It’s really bad for me. I take 64 pills a day, and I feel like it’s slowly killing me. Sixty-four pills: That’s 25 before breakfast, another 20 after breakfast, another 10 before dinner, and another 9 before bed.
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