Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da, Life Goes On

February has been a trying month for me, forcing me to realize that despite how I feel, life goes on.   My husband’s travel has picked back up, requiring him to be out of town for the majority of the time.  We were fortunate that since I was floxed in July, his travel had significantly decreased until now.  His increase in travels occurred at the same time I was asked to help co-moderate one of the fastest growing online FQ support groups on Facebook.   Thankfully, we have a great team of moderators that have helped pick up the slack.   The increase of the demands on my body has not been easy.

I am learning that I have to pace myself, to leave energy for me at the end of the day when the kids come in the door needing snacks, homework, and dinner.  Unfortunately, these needs don’t stop just because my body has a hard time keeping up.  I have been lucky with the timing of my son’s driver’s license which has been beneficial in helping out in the chauffeuring area.  Driving is one of the most difficult things for me to do physically.  I STILL cannot drive for long periods of time.  My foot and arms will hold out for the two trips to my daughter’s school, but that is about it.  I will have to say this hindrance has been good for our checking account, since I am unable to carry out any shopping sprees, uh, I mean errands.  I find my body does not respond well to unexpected occurrences, such as kids’ illnesses, extra trips to the grocery store, sick dogs, or any “stressor” out of the norm.  I have a slow paced body, in a fast paced world. 

We have had some spring-like days lately, and although my neuropathy pain welcomes the warmer weather, it only makes me realize that the world continues to change around me.  I feel, in a way, I am being left behind.   As the days become longer and I see the new growth and rebirth of my backyard, I feel even more stagnant in my recovery.  I am craving to be able to work in my garden that I have spent years trying to create.  It is frustrating to stand by and see someone else take care of it or see it not done at all.   My body’s endurance is just not up to it.  It has been 8 months since my reaction, and I was hoping for more of an improvement by now.  I feel I have reached a plateau, neither getting worse or better.  I have had an increase in pain and weakness this month, but I feel it is more related to the increase in my activity level.   My muscles still fatigue quickly causing them to become sore and weak after very little effort.  I have learned that I need to tackle tasks in small steps, taking frequent rest breaks.  I have certainly come a long way from the first 3-4 months, but a far cry from being full mended. 

Doctor appointments are starting back again, and I received another opinion from a second rheumatologist.  He confirmed that my problems are neuromuscular, and my joint problems are more than likely secondary to joint instability from weakened muscles.  I am due to see my neurologist this week.  I feel I have reached my limit in acquiring any more answers from tests or doctors.  I believe there is not a whole lot the medical community can do at this point.  The best healer is time.  So for now as winter morphs into spring and I try to modify my living, life must go on.  Thanks for reading.

The Blame Game

Who is to blame?  This question has entered my mind time and time again.  Who do I totally blame for my adverse reaction to Fluoroquinolones?  This can be a loaded, and unfortunately, not a clear cut answer.  Well, at least in my case.  I knew I had several “mild” reactions to medications when I entered that immediate emergency care facility.  I could remember them all, except for one. I was so disoriented that I could not recall the name.   The physician rattled off several suggestions, but none sounded familiar.  Ugh! I should have made a list and kept it in my purse.  (Fault- mine)

The nurse later entered my “cubicle” where I had already received two bags of IV fluids.  I was feeling better, and could have a somewhat lucid conversation now.  He started my third and final bag of fluid, and injected an “antibiotic” into my IV.  He had been present when I stated I had a reaction to an “unremembered” medication.  He did not mention the name of what he was giving me.    I immediately started feeling horrible.  I started having the most severe headache I have ever felt in my life, which is saying a lot since I have a history of migraines.  I could literally feel the pain move down my spinal column and into my hips.  I started shaking uncontrollably as if I had a high fever.  After checking my temperature multiple times, it was determined I did not have a fever.  The pain started moving down my legs, into my arms, sternum, and jaw.  It was unbearable.  Why was I suddenly feeling worse when, I had been getting better?  The staff’s response was that my body had been through a lot from being so sick, it was most likely that.  “What medicine did you give me?”  The answer was, “Levaquin”.  I knew immediately that was the medication I could not remember.   Why had they not SAID the medicine BEFORE entering it into my IV?  (Fault- nurse)

Believe it or not, even though I was having difficulty walking, and I obviously was turning for the worst, they discharged me home.  I was in unbearable pain that night.  I returned the next day to the same clinic.  I mentioned to a “new” physician of what occurred the previous day, and that I had been given Levaquin, a medication which I had a mild reaction from before.  I described that I felt like I had been hit by a car.  Anything bound by connective tissue was in extreme pain.  I also had a rash covering my neck and chest.  The doctor questioned why I was given Levaquin in the first place, and stated he did not see that it had been needed.  My WBC count was up because of the food poisoning, so no need for the antibiotic. He proceeded to order IV Prednisone and non-steroidal anti-inflammatory to help counteract the reaction.   I started feeling somewhat better during the IV, and thought it was helping.  I returned home, with a prescription of more prednisone and Zantac to help stop the absorption of the Levaquin by my body.  However, I started feeling even worse.  I now felt like I was being burned by acid from the inside out.  It was the most excruciating pain I have ever had.  Since it was still the weekend, I once again returned to the clinic.  But this time I had done some research…..prednisone and NSAIDs are specifically listed on the Levaquin patient information sheet not to use during adverse reactions, because it will make the reaction worse.  Steroids cause an increase risk of connective tissue damage, and NSAIDs cause an increase in Central Nervous System reactions.  I asked this same doctor about this new revelation, and his response was, “That is only for 70 year olds, not for people like you.”  He once again gave me a shot of NSAIDs, and I stupidly accepted his answer. (Fault- physician)  (Fault- me for stupidly believing him)

Thank goodness the weekend was now over, and I made an appointment with my general physician.  By this time the uncontrollable crying had started.  I could hardly tell her what happened over the weekend through the hysterical sobs.  I was in SO much pain!  Somehow she was able to get the gist of it, and I am convinced she now thought I was crazy.  I showed her my prescriptions.  She fortunately was educated enough in Fluoroquinolone reactions that she knew I needed to immediately stop the prednisone and NSAIDs.  She instructed me to keep the Zantac to interfere with the absorption of the Levaquin.  She gave me a prescription of Hydrocodone for the severe pain.  (Thank God!)  She had never seen a reaction like mine, and thought something else was also an underlying cause.  I will stop here with this recount, because if you have been following my blog, you know the doctor visits started, and I now have been diagnosed with large and small fiber peripheral neuropathy.

But for most, the blame game does not end there.  Most often the tables are turned on the victims themselves.   I have been fortunate that my neurologist does not blame me, but many others are being blamed for their reaction.  Perhaps they were under stress, perhaps they have MS or Fibromyalgia and did not know it, they exercise too hard, or maybe they were predisposed for a neurological problem.   The list goes on and on.  FQ toxicity victims are not getting support from their physicians to help their fight against the drug manufacturers.   One recent post on the FB Fluoroquinolone group, describes it this way.  “[It is like] a rape that you report and no one believes. There’s evidence, proof, but they turn a blind eye. The rapist is free to keep raping over and over.  Everyone thinks that the one you are blaming is innocent....he hasn’t done it to other people. Why would he do it to you? So, they let him roam around....and he will attack, again & again!!!”  A response back, “Yes. And the victim gets blamed for everything.”

I cannot end this post without mentioning, in my opinion, the two most important parties in this incident, the FDA and the drug companies; (Johnson & Johnson makers of Levaquin, and Bayer the makers of Cipro.)  In my opinion, physicians have no intention of harming their patients.  They do their best with the knowledge they have.   However, I do blame the drug companies for poorly educating physicians, or the pharmaceutical reps that are pushing these medications.  Doctors are not educated in what to do for adverse events, which in my case made the situation worse.  They push the pharmaceutical reps to convince the doctors that these are great meds, even for minor bacterial infections.  In reality, these meds were originally intended for severe infections in which other antibiotics did not work, or for treating anthrax or malaria.  There is a black box warning for Fluoroquinolones for tendon ruptures, but I am finding that most never were given information about the warning.  If you receive an IV, as I did, no paperwork or warning is ever given to you.   (Fault- drug companies for not educating proper use and what to do for adverse reactions).

 The FDA mission is to protect the public from unsafe drugs.  However, they are doing nothing about the daily reports of adverse reactions.  Many of these medications are being severely restricted or banned by foreign governments, yet they are the number one prescribed antibiotic in the United States right now.  Just look on askapatient.com to see how often severe reactions are reported on that website alone, and that does not include the people who do not find that page.  There are 2600 court cases pending right now for tendon ruptures alone.  These do not include people that have been affected in other ways, like me.  The problem is the FDA acquires a lot of funding from pharmaceutical companies.  This causes a huge conflict of interest; therefore medications are not pulled from the market.  The current black box warning is only as a result of a lawsuit by the consumer group Public Citizen against the FDA, for ignoring long standing evidence that FQs cause tendon ruptures. (Fault- FDA for not protecting us)

So, who is to blame the most?  It certainly is not me or any other victim of Fluoroquinolone Toxicity.  It is easy to play the blame game; point fingers at the victims, the doctors, the pharmacist, or the nurse.  But in reality, it is the drug company that educates all of these people and the FDA that is supposed to protect us.  That is who I place the blame on the most.

The Psychology of It All

It has been just over 6 months ago that I was floxed for a second time.  I now realize that my previous symptoms were from my "mild" reaction in May of 2009.  So in reality, I have  been dealing with this now for one and a half years. After my second reaction, I remember reading the posts on all the Fluoroquinolone information pages, praying that I would have a quick recovery, that I would not have a story like all of the others.  That unfortunately did not happen, but at least I have “met” a lot of strong and courageous people who are fighting this same battle daily.
 

The psychological impact of Fluoroquinolone Toxicity, or any medical condition for that matter, is just as important as the physical aspects.  This is a difficult topic to share, but yet I feel it is very necessary.  It seems it is easier for us to share our physical ailments.  Sometimes it can be very daunting to think this could affect the rest of my life, and the fact that the damage still may not be completed can be overwhelming.  It is hard not to replay that day in my mind when Levaquin was inserted into my IV, and to think about the trauma it is doing to my body.  I get anxious when I have to drive by the facility where this happened to me.  To make matters worse, it is by Target.  Why oh why, does it have to be by TARGET!!  The constant doctor’s appointments, wars with insurance, people who don’t believe, add to this.   I now find myself scared of medicine---traditional medicine, alternative medicine, integrative medicine, you name it, and I have a fear of it.  Fortunately, my neurologist understands this and does not pressure different treatments on me.  In fact, he too is worried how my body will not respond to things now.

Some days I feel as if I am in a time warp. I feel very disconnected from myself and everyone around me, as if I am watching, but not really participating.  I am sure anyone who has gone through an illness, death in the family or any traumatic event can relate.  Usually that feeling goes away in a short while, and you eventually return to your normal way of life.  However, what if you are being reminded daily of this event, by the physical ramifications or even from the grief?  I feel like such a hypochondriac at times.  I see other people  post symptoms that they are having, and I think, “I have that!” and the thing is, I really do have that!  I feel at times I am walking around with Eeyore’s big black cloud hanging over my head.  How do you make the event that is so “large” in your mind, diminish so you can move on with your life?

I have a difficult time in doing anything by myself, some for physical reasons, and others because of the fear of what might happen. The fear of pain, in itself can be discouraging.  If I do too much, then I am left to suffer with the consequences.  I have this anxiousness, which was there before, but now it has magnified.   It is exaggerated by not knowing how to plan for tomorrow, next week, or next month because I don’t know what I will be physically capable of that day.   I get discouraged, and start to doubt my body’s ability to heal.   However, I am trying hard to push myself to get out more, to mingle and interact with others.  I find this can help take my mind off of the pain, even if it is for a short while.

My body and its capabilities are now different, so I too have to change my future plans.  However, it does not mean I have to give up. I have to learn to move on with this new life I have been given.   I am not trying to make it seem simple.  It is not, by any means.  It is a daily struggle.  Some days that struggle is more difficult than others.  On those very frequent days, I think I sound like the Queen of Hearts being demanding and barking orders to my family.  “Off with their heads!”   I have to learn that patience is my friend, for I truly think the only healing cure for any of this is time.  It is o.k. to have these feelings; it is our normal human response to any tragic event.  Nevertheless, I have decided I have to step away from the grief, not be consumed, and have a new vision, new priorities.  I have two choices with this war within myself, continue the fight or surrender.  I have decided I like the first option best. But, winning the war requires embracing the enemy and facing the psychology of it all.

Advocacy: You'll Never Walk Alone

I have been trying to figure out my purpose in all of this.  Then it dawned on me.  I have become a Medical Advocate.  I have been placed in this role several times in my life, not realizing that my life always seems to steer this way.  As an Occupational Therapist, I was an advocate for my patients. I was a therapist that always explained things in full detail to my clients, and often gave them educational material for support.  I wanted to make the transition during this difficult part of their lives as painless as I could.   It was up to me to speak for them in our weekly rounds, to make clear their medical needs.  Did they need a longer length of stay?  Was further care needed for them after discharge?  Did they need assistive devices?  I had to document my thoughts well for insurance and for the attending physician, because if their needs were not well articulated, it could affect the life of the person for which I was advocating.

I left that role when my children were younger, feeling the need to be with them during their impressionable years.  Little did I know that I would be once again thrown into the responsibility of medical advocate.  In 2006, my daughter was diagnosed with Epilepsy.  I was horrified by the diagnosis, but I think I was even more horrified by how I was told.  She had been given an EEG prior to seeing the pediatric neurologist.  It was just my daughter and myself at the appointment.  We had never met him.  The doctor arrogantly strolled in the room, never made eye contact with us, and loudly proclaimed that she had epilepsy, and her EEG was severely abnormal.    She would most likely not outgrow it, and she needed to be put on medication immediately.  Here is the prescription; you need to make another appointment.  He left the room as quickly as he had entered it.  I was dumbfounded.  I could not believe the harshness of it all.  My daughter, who was 8 at the time, did not understand his words, but she certainly could tell something was wrong by the shock on my face.  I could not believe I was not given any educational material.  Not a nurse, a social worker, or any one came to explain to me what was actually being said.   I could not believe we were being thrown into this alone.  I was a therapist with some understanding of neurological problems, and yet I still felt I needed education.

I, of course, poured myself over the computer, found wonderful support groups, and met other moms that were dealing with the same situation.  They shared their stories, which made me realize I really wasn’t alone.  My daughter went 3 years battling getting control of her seizures, mostly because the doctors would not listen and kept prescribing more and more medications that were wrong for her.  We went through 4 neurologists until we finally found one that listened.  However, we came to another road block.  We had finally found the right medication, but insurance refused to pay for it.  I fought tooth and nail to get the one medication that finally helped to be covered by insurance.    I found a well worded letter can still do the trick.   She has now been seizure free for 1 year and 7 months.   

I did not want others to have to go through what I had, with the feeling of nowhere to turn.  I took the lead from the mom’s that had shared their stories with me, so I started a carepage for her.  I was advocating for her, yet helping others along their journey too by documenting our successes and failures. 

I was beginning to think it was time for me to possibly return to work, or find a volunteer job.   However, my life once again had other plans.  I had my severe adverse reaction to Levaquin, and here I am again.  I am a medical advocate once more, this time for myself.  The hours of research, doctors appointments, bills piling up on my kitchen desk, and the insurance fights have begun.   As you can see I have again decided to document my trials and tribulations.  I want to warn others of the dangers of Fluoroquinolones, and yet help others going through this know they are not alone.  I want to share personal stories, because those were the ones that seemed to help me most with my daughter’s diagnosis.  

Not long ago I watched HBO’s Temple Grandin, about a remarkable woman’s journey through Autism.  Two scenes in particular really moved me.  One, when Temple and her mother attended an Autism conference; Temple proudly stands up and tells the audience what it is like for her to have Autism. You could see the hunger of the other parents wanting to learn from her.   She owed all of her success to her mother’s advocacy and pushes to allow Temple to fit in.  It made me feel proud as a fellow mother and advocate for a daughter.  I think I even sat up taller on the couch during that part. 

  

The second was at Temple’s college graduation.  She had overcome so many obstacles and was speaking in front of all her fellow graduates.  With the utmost confidence, Temple starts singing “You’ll Never Walk Alone”.  To me, it explains perfectly the reason why I have been a medical advocate during my career, as a mother and now for myself and others with Fluoroquinolone toxicity.  I want others to know, you’ll never walk alone.   This is why I write my blog.

You'll Never Walk Alone

When you walk through a storm

hold your head up high

And don't be afraid of the dark.

At the end of a storm is a golden sky

And the sweet silver song of a lark.

Walk on through the wind,

Walk on through the rain,

Tho' your dreams be tossed and blown.

Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart

And you'll never walk alone,

You'll never, ever walk alone.

Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart

And you'll never walk alone,

You'll never, ever walk alone.

I've Got That Floxie Feeling

Some people call it ‘brain fog’ or ‘fibro fog’.  I call it the “floxie feeling” (derived from “floxed” used by those with Fluoroquinolone Toxicity).  I have days where I literally feel drunk and feel it is unsafe to “operate heavy machinery”.  I can’t find any rhyme or reason to it.  There have been no medication changes, lack of sleep, or foods that seem to be the culprit.  On these days of feeling inebriated; I stumble when I walk, drop things incessantly, my face feels numb, and cannot have a single clear thought.  It feels as if I have been to the local bar and kicked back more than just a few.  Believe it or not this feels just as frustrating as days when my pain is unbearable.

On normal days, I already have difficulty with my memory.  I can’t think of people’s names I have known for years, word finding problems, and can’t multi-task.  I used to complain “pre-floxing” that my first child took half my brain and the second took what was left.  I THOUGHT I had memory problems.  Now I KNOW I do.  It is all on a different level now.  I do really dumb things now, like give my husband's birthday for myself when going to vote.  Luckily I was able to laugh it off when the lady said VERY loudly, “This isn’t your birthday!” in front of both strangers and friends.   

My cognition has improved tremendously from those first few months though.  At that point I could not follow a television show; unless it was one I had seen a million times, which pretty much limited me to Disney’s Hannah Montana or Wizards of Waverly Place.  Forget reading at that point.  I could not even complete a sentence, and would have to re-read the simplest statements to even begin to comprehend it.   Even though I could not read a sentence, oddly I could compose one.  Of course that was after what seemed like hundreds of rewrites and corrections.  I still can’t read complex information.  I often just throw it to my husband and say “Read this, and then tell me about it.”  My writing is still better than my comprehension.   I know somewhere along the way of my OT studies I learned the reason for this.  I know that comprehension and expression are in different areas of the brain.  I guess one was spared more than the other for me. 

'Never imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it might appear to others that what you were or might have been was not otherwise than what you had been would have appeared to them to be otherwise.'
'I think I should understand that better,' Alice said very politely, 'if I had it written down: but I can't quite follow it as you say it.

Math, oh that is something else all together.  My daughter has given up asking me for help with her math homework.   I cannot do even simple computations.  I have to rely on my twelve-year-old to get me through a game of Monopoly.  Is this the right change?  Should I buy this?  How much do they owe me with all of the utilities?  One night at my daughter’s basketball game, the coach asked me if I would collect money of those entering.  I literally felt panicked inside.  I can’t even count change anymore!  On top of that I was to remember the faces of those who had paid versus those who had not.  Not a great task for someone with no math or memory skills.  Couldn’t they have hand stamps??   I know- I will get my husband to sit with me and make sure I am doing it correctly.  The next thing I know he is asked to keep score.  Well, there goes that plan.  I somehow made it through, although it was not the easy task it should have been.  I am sure I made quite a few mistakes, and if I remember correctly, got a few confused looks.   I wish I could wear a sign around my neck for situations like this.  “Please be kind to the woman in the chair.  She lost her quick thinking skills due to Levaquin.”  It is one of those “invisible illness” misfortunes.

 

My family is starting to catch on to this “floxie feeling”.  Don’t ask Mom to drive anywhere.  Leave really big notes on the kitchen counter such as…."Mom do laundry today!"  Chime in at the doctor’s office when they want to know a birthday.  Be ready to fill in the blanks when Mom stops mid-sentence and can’t remember a word. 

For some reason when I have this really bad, I sing to myself, “You’ve Got that Floxie Feeling” to the tune of “You’ve Lost that Lovin Feeling”.  Try it, it works.

You’ve got that floxie feeling,

Oh, that floxie feeling,

And now it’s gone, gone, gone, oh oh oh.

Well, at least I was left with some sense of humor.

New Year, New You

'I could tell you my adventures — beginning from this morning,' said Alice a little timidly: 'but it's no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.’

A new year has been proclaimed the start of new beginnings.   I am usually one that always jumps on this bandwagon.  I am a big organizer, I love organization, and every year this is usually a New Year’s resolution for me.  I have to get everything back in order, which somehow lost its tidiness the previous year.   This year, in my mind, it is no different; the storage room, the closets, the kitchen.  Ugh! The kitchen!  This has really lost its orderliness.  Having reduced power in my house because of my Levaquin reaction has really taken its toll on my kitchen.  I am so thankful my husband has stepped up and has helped out in this area; unloading the dishwasher, being the sous chef to my executive chef.  However, my kitchen has taken its toll.  Nothing is where it should be.  It is driving me absolutely crazy!  Believing I can do all of the normal undertakings like every year, I decide the kitchen is the first job to be tackled.  I found out quickly my typical resolution is just not going to happen this year.  Usually a thorough organization of my kitchen will take a day.  This year, our small pantry took a day.  Not because it was so terrible, our pantry is rather small, but because my body will no longer do those type of jobs.   Throwing away out-of-date food, getting my spices in alphabetical order (again), and putting everything back in its proper place completely wiped my arms out.  This was just another reminder that my endurance and strength are now quite pathetic.

This leads me to my other typical pledge for the year, getting in shape.  This has an all new meaning for me this year.  I am (or was) a regular exerciser and have been for the past 10 years.  Strength training has always been my favorite choice, but I would do just about anything to get out of aerobic activities.  As some of my close followers may know, I started having a difficult time with exercise a few months after receiving Levaquin in May, 2009.  From that point on, I was getting weaker in my workouts instead of stronger.  My workouts had gone from 1 hour 4 to 5 times a day to barely making it through a 15 min routine.   I was tired all of the time.  I, of course, never knew what the culprit was.  Even my doctor wanted me to be tested for MS.  It wasn’t until my second reaction to Levaquin in July, 2010, that the pieces were put together. My first “mild” reaction had already started causing havoc on my peripheral nerves.  I know now that was the cause of my symptoms- peripheral neuropathy.   The second “severe” reaction in July absolutely did them in.   So, this year I am starting from rock bottom.  I am determined to get my endurance up.  I have started walking on the treadmill.  I am able to walk a meager .3 miles at a big whopping 1.2 miles per hour.  I used to walk my dogs 4 miles a day in about an hour.  At this rate, it would take me 4 hours to do that now.   My legs will not move any faster.  If I attempt to walk faster, my legs feel as if I am walking through concrete and protest in pain.

I took a break from my blog for the holidays.  I had planned on returning to it much sooner than I did.  However, I have had a bad relapse of symptoms.  Problems that had gotten better or even disappeared are back.  I have read from others that this is typical.  Most report that they have a relapse after about 6 months or so.  I am holding true to that description.  It has been exactly 6 months since Levaquin was poured into my veins from that IV.  Oh, how I wish I could time travel back to that day and stop it.  It is amazing how something that took only a few seconds, has now changed my life.  As I peruse my list of symptoms, only 4 have not returned so far.   The myoclonic jerks, heart racing, decreased balance, and insomnia have improved.  In fact, I have gone from unable to sleep more than 2 hours in 24 hour period, to wanting to do nothing but sleep.  I do still occasionally have insomnia if I am in great pain, but nothing compared to the beginning.   The joint popping had completely disappeared, and now every joint pops, grinds, and groans.  I feel it the most after sleeping.  When I get out of bed, I literally feel every vertebra in my back and neck pop as do my ankles, shoulders, elbows, knees and hips.  My hips grind as if the synovial bursae is just no longer there.  The weight fluctuation has stopped, but unfortunately on the high side.  All of this inactivity has taken a toll on my weight, and I am now the heaviest I have been sans pregnancy.  So, you guessed it, another resolution to try to get this weight off the best I can. This will be difficult since I still can’t move very well.   

I am not sure what has caused the back slide.  Is it just the normal course of Fluoroquinolone toxicity?  Is it all the bad eating habits I adopted during the holidays, or simply the lack of routine?  Is it the natural course of peripheral neuropathy?   I am not sure of the answer, but I am determined to try to stick to my goal of a daily short walk on my treadmill.  I have read that activity will increase blood flow to hopefully encourage repair of the nerves.   I also know the loss of these extra 30 pounds will make it easier on my joints.  I am hoping pledging to the world these things; I will comply with these declarations. After all, as the world has professed, a New Year means a New You.  Yeah, right!

Update:  My lactic acid blood test came back normal.  I am not sure what this means for my next course of action.  I also am not sure if this will totally rule out mitochondrial dysfunction.  I am not scheduled to see my neurologist until the first of March.  I have updated my symptoms list, and also added some new links to the other pages.

Thanks for reading!

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

My kids are off for the holidays starting tomorrow, so I have decided I am taking time off from my blog as well.  I will return after the New Year.    Thanks for all of the encouraging emails and messages.  You are all an inspiration to me.  So many of us are going through this battle together.  I hope everyone has a happy holiday and a pain free New Years.

Thanks for reading,

Lori