There, I said it. That chalky white nastiness that I am taking once a day has so totally killed my appetite that weight has been disappearing. My mother came by the other day and complained about feeling my shoulder blades. My awesome deerskin chaps zip up without a problem. My breeches are too bleeping big.
The stuff gives a Herx like no other. Let me give you a symptom list:
paresthesias...on my arms and legs, sometimes as if there is some invisible mini person pricking me with a pin, othertimes as if there is a bug crawling on me
depression...big, black and honkingly nasty
evil attitude...I blame this one mostly on the doxy, dude
vertigo...this Herx is making me standing up a bad idea. I was debating about going to my therapist appt and then my ECE....and then I stood up (bad idea). The room started spinning, I crawled back into the covers on the couch, and started making alternative plans for the day (who to call, how to get to the rest room, etc.)
and did I mention the no appetite? yeah. none.
comatose fatigue...I have literally slept from 330 pm Monday till 2 or 3 pm this afternoon. Mike was able to get me up a couple of times to eat, go to the bathroom, and to give me my shot (which to add insult to injury, hurt bad). Still. That is ridiculous.
But after every Herx comes an improvement in function. And given that I clouted the Behavioral Med exam on Monday, and barely missed the minimum grade on the Pharm exam (we are talking like two questions) due to MATH (normally my beloved little pet, but when I am sick, always a downfall), I think the resolution of this baby will lead to better brain times and please God some riding.
On the horse front, my Holsteiner mysteriously cut her leg. The turnout is mud, mud, mud, just a perfect germy paradise. I found I have wrapping skills out the wazoo, because I can wrap good while being woozy. And the ding-dong Trak mare's gaskin injury is acting up--she is now on stall rest. I am going to drop by vet's tomorrow for abx for the two of them, and may have the vet come out on Monday to look at them (until then it's wraps for the two of them. Be still my heart.)
Belles, the Trak, has discovered the joys of Uncle Jimmy's Hangin Balls. She is covered in goo. That is one grooming catastrophe I am just not going to deal with right now...especially since I have my final physiology exam on Friday.
It formed able for me the ancient time I took it. But I didn't apperceive afresh what I do now, and didn't crop advantage of the befalling to repopulate my colon with adequate bacteria.
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