At the start of my MS odyssey, I was - like many people - diagnosed with a number of different illnesses before the right one was identified. In the end, the doctors working on my case collectively shrugged their shoulders and sent me (and any potential malpractice liability) to the medical school in Houston, Texas.
I don't know about others, but "pseudoexacerbations" seem to be a part of my life. For those who don't have M.S., a "pseudoexacerbation" is a temporary worsening of an existing symptom which had previously gotten better. This is distinguished from an "exacerbation" which is a new symptom.
It took me nearly five years, but all of my problems with walking had pretty much resolved in the last year or so (see my prior posts on the subject). I could - and did - literally walk down stairs faster than my co-workers could take an elevator.
Someone else noted that when people do the CAP and get better, they start living their life again and so they don't hang around the site as much. In my case that is true.
There's one thing I've noticed since I completed the CAP a couple of years ago and I was wondering if anyone else has had the same experience. Since completing the CAP, my toenails grow very slowly (i.e. I can go two weeks between having to trim them) and my fingernails very quickly (i.e. I have to trim them twice a week). Has this happened to anyone else?
Those of you who have been on this site for some time will recall that early on in my treatment I had some really significant adverse reactions to the CAP; most of which were attributable to the fact that I didn't take the need to take charcoal or some other bile-acid sequestrant seriously enough and it landed me in a hospital emergency room on more than one occasion.
Well, I'm just back from Indianapolis, IN, and I managed to avoid having to go to the Emergency Room. That's probably just as well. Most of the hospitals that I passed by on the way to my destination in the city, proper, looked like they had seen better days. The hospitals in the suburbs looked much more up-to-date, but were probably too costly for me.
I serve as the clerk for the eldership of my church. It is a position of considerable responsibility but little actual power. This used to weigh on my mind considerably, but letely as our financial position has deteriorated, I find myself more and more jocular - much the same as I did when I had full-blown M.S. I only did something like 22 flagyl pulses and so I find myself starting to wonder if the disease has returned. And if so, whether repeating the protocol would be worthwhile as the bugs would now presumably resistant.
...but what else is new?
I didn't get a tutu, but I did dance into my neurologist's office as discussed in my blog here last year. The other patients - none of whom looked any more disabled than I am looked at me like I was insane. I just wished them a good day and told them I was happy that my neurologic problems were getting better.
...the muse has left me.
I have posted about this several times before. When I had an untreated CPn infection, my personality changed - and in the opinion of my wife it changed for the better. I could compose terrible prose worthy of the Bulwer-Lyton competition that were almost funny. That muse left me as my brain recovered From the CPn infection. After getting used to the jovial CPn infected me, my wife doesn't really like the new (similar to the old) me.
You have to read the last paragraph of my March 2011 posting for the subject line to make sense.
It was another recordbreaking day in Dallas. The people who say global warming is a myth had been strangely silent for more than a month as temperatures climbed to levels that even the residents of Phoenix or Tucson would have found uncomfortable. Worse for the Texans was that the humidity had not dropped to desert levels so being outdoors was like being slow roasted in a convection oven. The deteriorating asphalt of the parking lot outside his neurologist's office that he had skipped across like a frog jumping between lily pads at the time of his last visit had melted in the heat and looked almost new.
The door was slightly ajar as his hand reached up to push against its weight. The door swung open silently as lightning flashed and briefly illuminated the interior of the cabin. The sound of the rain was distinctive on the tin roof. As another bolt of lightning flashed, he looked around to see if he could make out the shape of the man that he felt he had over the past years he had in a perverse way come to know; Mr. Paul Clifford. The cabin had no electricity so the lightning turned out to be a mixed blessing, With each flash it illuminated the room while yet destroying the vision his eyes had patiently won back from the moonless night. As he scanned the room through successive flashes, he slowly came to understand that the bemedaled Mr.
It was a dark and stormy night.... Well, in this case that's literally true. We've had no moon, but lightning and thunder with no rain. It's the kind of weather you would expect at the start of a gothic horror movie.