The Fur Protocol

Today I am pulling out all the stops to get through this rough patch including the Fur Protocol. It was adifficult week for a healthy person, so I expected to be plastered to the couch by the weekend.

The fun began Monday with having to prepare for EVERY square inch of wall to wall carpet to be ripped out and hard wood floors installed. It was a two day process that entailed moving every item in four rooms twice!!. It had to be done. The carpet was too old and probably more toxic than the NJ air. The carpet removal created such an intense amount of dust– holy cow I wanted to cry. Lucky for me it was beautiful outside, so I spent as much time as possible curled up in a lounge chair on the patio between trying to run errands and manage the mess.

Speaking of errands; the first day the guys arrived, I ran out to Lowes to get felt pads for under the legs of the furniture. I left the two gentlemen that didn’t speak a whole lot of English to do their thing. We’ve had this company do work for us several times, so there is a trust factor. On my way to Lowes, I swung by the compounding pharmacy– because it seems like every day includes a trip to the pharmacy. Just as I pull into Lowes to park, my phone rings. HMMM. I didn’t recognize the number, but figured I should answer. It was the “business owner” of the floor company– a kinda-sorta friend, informing me that the particulate matter in the air created by sawing and dust etc. triggered the central station reporting fire alarm. As I digest this information, I walk through the next series of events. The security company will call. The workers won’t answer and even if they did, they would not know the “secret password”, so they will dispatch the fire company and police and probably an ambulance. “Shit” I say. I called my husband to tell him to call the security company and whiz out of the parking lot and head back home. I was hoping to make it back before the fire officials arrived and started asking questions to the floor installers. I didn’t quite make it in time, but no-one stuck around to complain to me about the false alarm. I went back out to finish my shopping.

When I returned, exhausted from the errands and previous stress, I couldn’t wait to chill on the couch. What the hell was I thinking? The banging and sawing was loud for a normal person. For a sound sensitive lymie it was unbearable. To make matters more enjoyable, between the bangs, there was another strange tick tick tick tick noise. I didn’t know what it was, or where it was coming from. I finally figured out it was coming from the alarm. Great. Knowing the annoying ticking would continue until some action was taken, I call the alarm company. Long story short, the floor installers must have accidentally cut a wire. Frown. At least they were willing to let us remove the back up battery to stop the ticking until service to the unit could be provided.

So after making it through those two days, I wrap up Wednesday night by attending a viewing. It wasn’t a close friend or relative, but it was the first viewing for my 14 year-old daughter. Fortunately it went smoothly. Non the less, I was beyond exhausted. As I fell onto the couch to sleep — because I didn’t have time to clean the upstairs–I remembered the bathroom vanity top installers were arriving at 8:00 am. Much cursing ensued, but I managed to drift off.

When I got up at 6:00 to see my daughter off to school, I felt awful. Then I look at her and saw the dark circles encasing her not very sparkling blue eyes. She looked pale and was irritable. She just finished her first round of mepron and biaxin and started on doxy, grapefruit seed extract, probiotics, licorice etc etc. My heart thumped with anxiety as I watched her slump out the door. As much as I wanted to dwell on that, I had to move on to face my own problems. I was two weeks into resuming my medication cocktail after a break due to low white blood cell count. The doctor added in Septra. Although I can’t say what is caused it, I started having the nausea I was feeling right before the Doctor pulled me off the medicine. I forced myself to eat dry gluten free cereal to take my synthroid, lexapro and adrenal support, but just didn’t have the stomach for the abx. I was unsteady on my feet and feeling dizzy. Very dizzy. All of the sudden the room was spinning dizzy. “Oh god. Here we go… I thought to myself. From time-to-time I get these raging spells of vertigo that make me motionlessly bed-bound for four to six hours.

I made my way onto the couch while giving my husband the look that says, “So help me god if you leave for work before the bathroom guys and alarm fixer guy get here I will cut off your nut sack.” He knows the look. I flopped on the couch, assumed the fetal position to ride out the spinning sensation. A minute later the circus started with more banging, strange men stomping up and down the stairs, awful smells from vanity top glue, the dog barking and finding out they fucked up the marble for around the tub. This is the price I pay for replacing cheap cracking tile with a natural surface. “Sorry maam, we’ll have to have them re-do this piece.” On the inside I’m saying, don’t maam me you stupid shit-head. On the outside, I give a cheery, “oh no worry” with a flick of my wrist like I”m swatting away a fly. Meanwhile I’m hanging onto the towel rack with the other hand so I don’t fall over while trying to wrap up the discussion before I puke on their work boots.

With all men finally out the door, I return to the couch. AHHHHH. And so begins the Fur Protocol. I don’t decide when I get the fur protocol. The four legged witch doctors do. When I am at my absolute worst, my fellow lyme infected dog, Mimzy, and my (thanks for letting me move in with you) cat named Kitty make it a point to aid in my healing. Mimzy hops up on the couch and nuzzles me with her wet nose a few times, then circles around till she gets comfy near my feet.


Miss Kitty


Mimsy the Baschundeagle.

A few minutes later, Kitty jumps up on the back of the sofa and marches across, past the dog, and climbs down to sit on my chest. Her bright green eyes stare into mine for a few minutes and then she starts clawing at my blanket indicating she is in this nap for the long haul. She sticks her head under my hand and rubs it around as if to say, “Petting me will make you feel so much better.” As she too circles for optimal comfort, the purring starts. She settles down with her face very near mine and I feel cool puffs of kitty breath on my cheek. And there I lay– covered in fur with my best healers and friends. They seem to know when my body is ailing the most. So we all sleep for three hours waiting out the vertigo and praying it subsides in time for back to school night.

By 2:30 in the afternoon, the room stopped spinning. Back to school night was pleasantly uneventful, and we arrived home to my daughter now plastered to the couch looking like death in a blanket. I attempt to engage her in conversation at which point she threw off the blanket and marched upstairs to her room. “That went well”, I thought to myself and fell asleep on the couch.

That brings us to this morning. It is another beautiful sunny day I can’t enjoy because I feel like I’m going to vomit. I get on the scale to see if I kept on the four pounds I gained. When the display read 112.4 I was shocked. I was over 116 two days ago. Then I realized I had been feeling a bit bloated. What I thought was healthy weight gain, was probably just retained toxic water weight. So then I walked around the kitchen for a while trying to figure out what on earth I could eat so I could take medication. My appetite was still in bed and my stomach felt like it was digesting itself. The anxiety started to creep up on me. The thought of eating and vomiting was making me anxious. I turned to my last resort– my herbal diet supplement, marijuana. After a couple puffs, I made myself an egg and slice of ham on gluten free bread and swallowed the 10 drugs that are supposed to make me better. Then I detox bath and follow that up with a coconut oil rub from head to toe. And in the end, I still feel like shit. Hello Fur Protocol!

This is a classic song that always makes Mimzy take a deep breath and sigh.  One of my all time favorites.