Routine

We’ve settled into a bit of a routine since I began my treatment.

I take my pills twice a day, morning and evening. I get about an hour and a half of clarity before the dose sets in with the herxheimer, and I spend that time doing what I need to do while sitting up. Pete and Rachel (my friend) have been here to help with the kids’ needs, since it takes me four times as long to move as it did before I started treatment.

Once my herx takes effect, I’m pretty much no good, which makes me glad that Pip and Bredon are independent enough to fend for themselves a bit. They can both get water bottles themselves, and Pip is pretty free with the food dispensation for snacks just 20 minutes before lunch. They’re both scavengers. It’s out of control, and it’s just what we do.

I’ve had to spend only a little time in bed, which has been nice, because I’d much rather have something going through my brain – even if it is just reruns on USA. My new laptop has also been getting a workout with me on the couch this week while Pip watches Sprout. I’m pretty convinced that The Wiggles may be possessed.

The worst of the herx begins about two hours after I’ve taken the treatment and lasts for about five hours. During this period, I don’t want to move. At all. I can feel my body sinking into the couch, falling down internally with the burden of disease. Pete comes home around noon to make lunch, and by that point, my brain fog is at its height. My verbal skills are significantly reduced – getting words out is physically difficult.

As he leaves again for work, we put B down for his nap, and then Pip and I finish out the worst of the herx quietly. I eat my lunch slow, one meal that B doesn’t fight me for. (He likes to eat off my plate – it doesn’t matter if he has his own.)

Once Bredon gets up around 3, we hang out in the living room, and they start their “we’re going to drive Mom crazy until Dad gets home” routine. And they do. It is a welcome relief to have Pete come home around 6:00.

We start work on dinner then – though I haven’t been much help. I can offer ideas by dinnertime, but I chase myself in circles trying to help, so it’s actually better if I stay out of the way and just hang out near the kitchen while Pete puts things together.

I love that my clearest moments of the day are at the kids’ bedtime. We go into their room, read stories, and tuck them in, not that we expect them to stay put. They play until dark – about half an hour – and drop off to sleep by themselves. Pete and I clean up and vacuum (well, okay, I’ve not really been much help on that front this week either), do the noisy stuff while they’re still awake, and then we hit the couch together and I take my final dose for the day. The worst of that herx happens while I sleep.

I’ve been noticing improvement over the last two days; my body seems to be adjusting to the treatment now, and I’ve caught myself moving slightly faster than I thought I could. I tire very easily though – even outbursts in conversations leave me winded and woozy. You wouldn’t think it would be so easy to overdo.

I am hoping for a little more energy next week – B is approaching two, and he’s becoming quite the defiant little critter. He needs more direct supervision than I’ve been able to give him. I am just glad that he’s been safe this week. This stage with Piper wasn’t so bad because she has a survival instinct, which it seems her brother missed when God handed them out. This boy-kid has no fear. Which isn’t great for his mother’s nerves.