A bumpy Herxheimer

I’m not surprised that my Herx came with the move. The dust from the boxes, the chemicals that remain in the new home, the stress of it all, each worked with the bacteria to make this the worst Herxheimer yet. It was mostly just pain everywhere. Every mobile part of my body cried out at even the thought of getting out of my chair and walking across the room. I did my best not to listen and tried to keep on doing stuff anyway. I got a fair amount accomplished, mostly meal planning, but a few tasks here and there.


The air at the farm (my new home) is very good for me: outside the house. Inside, I think it’s worse than the apartment was, but we are working at clearing it up. Soon it will be warm enough that I can open the windows and clear out this place. Also, there are still boxes everywhere! I want to unpack the; however, every time I start to do so, the dust from the cardboard makes me quite ill. So, they can’t stay and I cannot unpack them. I’ll have to wait until someone has time to unpack under my direction.


So, what other adventures has Lyme given me these last few weeks? There are these red bumps growing on my hands. They don’t itch or bother me in anyway unless they are touched, then they feel like shards of glass embedded just under the surface of the skin. This is wonderful because it’s all over my palms and on my fingertips, there are bumps upon bumps. My specialist said that this looks like Bartanella lesions caused by that particular bacteria fighting against the antibiotics. The bacteria are apparently at their most vicious when they are most threatened. I think it could be so, but if it was these lesions, one would expect to see them on my feet before they appear on my hands in such quantity. I have over three dozen easily visible bumps on my right hand and over a dozen on my left. I’m told they look vascular which means something to do with the blood. They don’t respond to change in diet however; touching certain things like the rabbit’s hay make them much worse about two days later. This is very similar to something I get when I garden and have had since I can remember; however, those were much smaller lumps, a lot less of them, and didn’t hurt nearly so much. When I asked my GP about these nasty bumps my GP was baffled. Two other doctors were called in to look at them, which included poking me, looking in my mouth and asking lots of questions. The conclusion was that it could be several things, none of which are a good fit and I get to go see yet another physician: a dermatologist.


Since moving to this farm, I have felt that my goal of being better by the time I turn thirty might actually be possible. I am told that ‘better’ dose not mean a return to the life I had before; but, I hope it means being able to spend a day working in the garden, cooking meals and playing with yarn in the evening. I don’t know what kind of job I would be able to work at, if any, but perhaps I can grow enough produce to sell and pay off my student loans. The future is very uncertain, but at least I’m feeling hopeful about it again.