Surf Nation

Lyme in the Spine

Ha! So, evil Lyme disease, I have vanquished you! After drinking lots of lime juice over the weekend, by way of a nonsensical remedy recommended by no one, you were gone! Only the faintest of rashes remained, so verily I was on course for my surf-restoring op in mid-December!

That's what I thought first thing, but as is the way of my life lately, this hope was soon dashed. One of the neurosurgers gave me a call and advised that a lumbar puncture would be taken next week, this to determine whether there was Lyme in my spine. If there was, an op would be a non-starter for some time. If there wasn't, it still might not happen, for Lyme could nevertheless be responsible for the neurological mayhem afflicting me. In addition, I shouldn't get my hopes up about the fading of the rash because that was probably because of the steroids, themselves given to ease the pain in my neck and back. Excellent, thought I.

Further disenchantment came as I detected between the lines that the first neurosurging dude felt I could perhaps content myself with chess, darts and poker by way of recreation henceforth, thereby avoiding the jolt that could render me paralysed. So, too, that he felt that my neck had been a shambles for some time and that if I'd got away with it for this long, it might not necessarily deteriorate any further for a while.

However, the neurosurger on the blower wasn't inclined to agree with this line of thought. He felt that someone with my mental flaws and deficiencies would go clinically insane if deprived of surfing or other physical activity for the rest of my life, and so, once it was safe in Lyme terms, believed that I should have the op.

All I know is that it's all very complicated, a fact confirmed by a GP who specialises in Lyme who also gave me a call (thanks to CazD for the link to this dude). And every time I steel myself for the next round of clean blue wave thinking, along comes a murky shoredump to put me off my stride.

So, what's the present state of play? My life is in limbo as I wait to find out if I've got Lyme in the spine. The steroids are working and I'm in less pain. But the steroids are also creating false hope in that they, rather than the doxycycline I'm taking for Lyme, are seeing off the rash. They might well give me a Fat Face too, and not one that can be sold in the shops. I can't sleep for worry and am a moody old bugger ("Even more so than normal," says Karen). But I still like this song. And I'm going to start reading Lance Armstrong's book, a good bit of advice from The Harkon. 

'Lyme in the Spine: My Journey back to the Surf'. Now there's a thought. I'm not sure if it's a good one, but it's a thought, that's for sure.

The Twisted Pilot

Rumours went their way south, all the way from surf city itself, to the effect that there has been a regime change at Pit Pilot. The man who consolidated the magazine's position as the black sheep of British (surf) journalism, hitherto known only as Mr P. Pilot but now going forth as Greg Martin, is joining the happy band of freelance scribes and snappers who populate this part of the world. Soon to take the helm in his stead is legendary lensman, artist, shoe-hater and force of nature Tony Plant.

I've known Tony for a few years now, having first met him in Thurso for the inaugural O'Neill Highland Open. He struck me then as a very tall and energetic fellow, who - perhaps because of the rather inclement Scottish weather - had suspended his lifelong antipathy to shoes and condescended to wear a pair. It is possible that he also wore shoes when he met the powers behind Pit Pilot, but regardless, his appearance as editor of the only magazine wholly dedicated to British surfing is very welcome, shoes or no shoes. But while we're talking about Tony's feet, I can share an insight from my wife Karen, who grew up in the St Austell area and went to the same school as Tony.

"I think he wore shoes then, but can't be sure," she said. 

I asked Karen what she thought of Tony's appointment as editor. In which direction, for example, would he pilot Pit Pilot? "Knowing Tony, he'll be conservative in nature," she said. "I expect him to favour a sober, restrained look and feel to the magazine, one high on in depth analyses of the economics of surfboard bag manufacture, profiles on local councillors in Newquay and interviews with leading SUPPERs."

Really, I said? That didn't sound like the Tony I knew.

"Of course not, you idiot," she replied. "He'll do something TWISTED. Take cover! You have been warned!"

The Gull Shark comes to me via Jonty Henshall, for which many thanks. Jonty doesn't reveal its provenance but it has all the hallmarks of The Twisted Pilot...

I HATE LYME DISEASE

I am angry. And not by any of the usual things (Herne Hill, uneven tarmac, cress, formica, the quotidian march to desuetude). Not, what's annoying me today is Lyme disease.

I saw another neurosurging dude this morning and he left me in no doubt that I need spinal decompressive surgery as soon as possible, as in, yesterday. Any knock to my head will probably paralyse me in my present state, one which will certainly get worse and, indeed, is getting worse.

Fair enough. Two dudes say I need an op, so I say: bring on the op. A date is set, and it's very soon. But lo and behold, Lyme rears its ugly head. A different dude - a microbiologist - advises the other dudes that I can't have the op while I've got Lyme disease. It's too dangerous and I might well end up with some unspecified but hideous malady.

Yesterday I finished a course of antibiotics for Lyme. Has it made any difference? None at all. I've still got it. So off I go in a minute to see the doc to get yet more bloody pills. I'll hope no one drives into the back of the car en route, hope I don't slip on a banana skin and hope that this round of antibiotics kicks Lyme into touch, so that I can have the op which - to speak rather more positively - I was again told can result in complete success and a return to surfing.

By the way, today's neurosurging dude summoned two colleagues to check me out. As with my other newfound medico mates, they too found me "very interesting".

I would swap being interesting for total asinine anonymity for eternity if it meant I'd be rid of Lyme and free to get on with the op.

Pictured: me after boxing training a while ago. I wish, right now, that I could hit the hell out of a heavy bag. Sorry to moan, folks, but as I said, I am beyond mere discombobulation. By a long way.

The Power of Positive Thinking

The last couple of days have been a bit tricky but enlightenment is approaching, mainly thanks to a call from the neurosurging dude yesterday. I'm not going to go into forensic detail but suffice to say that my mind is fully committed to coming out of decompressive spinal surgery at some stage in the future. In fact, so long as having Lyme disease doesn't preclude having an op, that future is just around the corner: I'll be under the knife in mid-December. If all goes well I might even catch a wave or two at Sennen in the summer, though I'm happy to wait for the year or so that I'm told recovery will take. Basically I'll do whatever it takes to get better and be surfing again.

Despite the pain, which gets worse each day (although the wonky left leg seems to have stabilised at a level of going-downhill-or-downstairs-only wonkiness), I enjoyed filming Harry and a couple local legends at a secret spot yesterday. Initially, it was a torment, looking at a peeling head high wave that I knew was within my capability and watching them having a blast riding it. So too was getting used to the camera, for words, not gadgets, have always been my thing. But in the end it was enjoyable. It was a way of remaining involved in surfing. I understood why surfers who, for various reasons, can no longer surf become snappers. 

So, with that in mind, I'm going to settle down to watch the latest DVD from the good folk at the Discovery Surf School. Their first film, 110% Surfing, was one of the best instructional surf videos I've seen. Very few ever explain why you might be digging a rail on turns, still less how to stop doing it, but 100% Surfing was a pleasing exception. I'll let you know what the second film (cunningly titled Volume 2) is like, and, speaking personally, will absorb its lessons on the basis that one day they will help me come good with, for example, a really smooth roundhouse cutback, probably my favourite move but one that, in my case, has thus far been more of a square-shed lean-back, if such an image conveys anything meaningful, which is highly doubtful.

Dreams remain free, and positive thinking can go a long way. And talking of which: Harry has managed to get himself on Surf Solutions' Portugal surf trip in a week or so. He's stoked, and I should think I will be when I see how far his surfing has come on when he gets back. Adios for now.

Image of Tas Knight on a Surf Solutions' Portugal trip courtesy of Greg Martin.

To have the op or not? That is the rubbish question I've got to answer

I am confronted with a conundrum.

The neurosurging dude from Derriford tells me that there is so much chaos and fragility in my spine that a jolt to to my head or body could cause paralysis. (Please, if you are an enemy, do not take this as open season to barge into me.) To leave things as they are is to accept that I will never surf again or do any form of exercise. As the dude put it: "Chess is an excellent game".

I agree with him, but am not best pleased about never surfing again nor being able to do any kind of exercise. I also don't relish the prospect of walking around on tenterhooks lest anyone or thing bumps into me and sends everything haywire. Thus, an op to decompress the spine seems a good idea. The stats for this are:

1. 30% of patients make a complete recovery. In my case, my wonky left leg would go back to normal and all the pain would go. And I could surf again.

2. 30-40% of patients do not recover but worsening of their condition is arrested. Could I surf again if I'm in this category? Maybe.

3. Around 30% find that the op makes either no difference at all and, in fact, that it makes things worse. No surfing under this scenario.

4. 2-3% of patients wake up paralysed. Surfing would be tricky if this were my fate.

Does the dude reckon I should have the op? That depends on whether I'm getting worse. The answer is that yes, I am, so it seems that an op is on the cards. However, I'm seeing another specialist on Friday and will see what he or she has to say.

It's all "very interesting," say my new-found friends from the medical profession. Not least the extra conundrum: is it safe to operate when I've got Lyme disease?

The plot thickens, my mood darkens, the anger mounts. Sometimes just paddling out and seeing what the hell happens seems like the best thing to do. But no. One must be optimistic. I have an image of a wave in the Maldives in my head, courtesy of a chat with Hugo from SAS at lunchtime. One day I hope to surf it.

Image courtesy of elhuapo.

Odder than Lyme: Reflections on a Surfer confined to Dry Land

One thing regularly said to me of late is that "things happen for a reason". People say this to cheer me up, i.e by suggesting that even though the double whammy of cervical myelopathy and Lyme disease has arrived, it's a sign that it's time to do something else with my life.

I am not convinced that this belief withstands logical analysis. Or, for that matter, any other kind of analysis. Neither cervical myelopathy nor Lyme disease have been sent to me, whether by an obscure but benign deity who now thinks I shouldn't go surfing as much as I've been used to or by a malign God who thinks that I should get some comeuppance for any of supporting QPR, liking Frank Zappa, being (at one stage in my life) a bit of hell-raiser or insisting that Tom Curren is the best surfer the world has ever seen. 

In fact, the idea that "things happen for a reason" is, rather than an affirmation of the philosophy of determinism, a human construct which seeks to create order out of chaos. Thus a man in my position - not at all bad today, with very little pain and Lyme seemingly at bay - seeks other occupations as if they have been divinely ordained rather than mope about cursing the sight of surfers shredding the right-hand reef break somewhere within a ten mile radius of his house.

But as human-constructs-seeking-order-out-of-chaos go, this one isn't all that bad. With all that extra time on my hands now that I'm out of the water, I can help Harry pursue his musical interests with Wave7 and Elliot with his animation. Both are talented lads - I'll put one of Elliot's films up soon but meanwhile have a listen to Harry and his mates, Sam Whitby on bass and Mark Williams on drums.  They're only 14 but they can definitely play and have composed a variety of original numbers already, way more than I ever did as a muso (I used to love with playing jazz bass but don't recall ever doing anything so inventive as creating an original track). Check out Harry's solo on 'The Song With No Name' at about 2.30 mins.

And ever the optimist I live in hope that Tuesday's visit to a neurosurging dude at Derriford will result in some GOOD NEWS. Like the following:

"Lyme disease is a strange old thing but it probably exacerbated the myelopathy. Now that the antibiotics have kicked in you will find that the severity of your symptoms will ease, enabling you to bag a few more waves and write that physically demanding book you've got up your sleeve for the next year. Yes, of course we'll give you all manner of excellent drugs to kill any pain that comes along and help you do this. And no, there are no NHS waiting lists. So after you've done what you need to do, we'll whip you in here for an op to decompress your spine, with a bit of fusion thrown in, roundabout next October. By April 2011 you'll have written that book, be fully better and surfing some Bajan waves by way of convalescence."

Have Lyme, will surf

Next time you're on Towan Headland in Newquay, maybe to check out The Cribbar or just to go for a stroll, make sure you take a look through the porthole on the building pictured here. It's Newquay's old lifeboat station and for some years now has been the studio of artist Nicholas Charles Williams. He's a man who knows what he's doing with oil on canvas, that's for sure, but he's also pretty handy in the water, having surfed all his life and even bagged a few Oahu waves with a certain Dave Reed. A glance through that porthole will not disappoint.

(PS: This post is not indicative of a new policy of ignoring serious medical issues in the absurd hope that they will go away. Honest. In fact I'm stoked, in the relative sense of the word, that Lyme could be causing my nervous system and neck problems and would like to thank all who've contacted me about this. Seems to me that Lyme is awkward, annoying and potentially chronic but that it can be cured. Also, even if it lingers it seems I can still surf. So, as I said the other day, despite the fact that being told one has a disease is not usually good news, in this instance it's not that bad.)

Seneca, surfing and myelopathy/Lyme

What would Seneca have to say about my delightful dose of myelopathy with a strong dash of Lyme?

The Roman philosopher proposed that if you got up and confronted each day as if it were your last, and then made it to the end without incident, you would go to sleep a happy man.

I have deployed this philosophy today. When I woke up, I had what is becoming a routine experience: I thought I was better. Five minutes' motion was enough to prove that I'm not. Some days the neck pain is so intense I have to lie down, others it's bearable, while every day my left leg refuses to do what it's supposed to do. I knew before I'd had my first sip of coffee that today would be no exception, but at this juncture I thought of Seneca and resolved to expect all manner of disasters as the day unfurled.

Surprisingly, given my recent luck, I've made it to the end of the day without being diagnosed with a new illness. I was not run over by a lorry and the dogs did not eat me. My liver said 'cheers, mate' for my efforts to be nice to it and my twin fin did not try to blow up the house. I'm feeling pretty rubbish, because myelopathy + Lyme has that effect, but all in all today has been a successful one.

Better yet, the helpful comments and emails keep coming. Thanks to all but especially Kara and Jaydee. When I first got these symptoms my research suggested that Lyme was causing all the mayhem and if it, rather than a knackered spine, is the problem then I'll be stoked. Trouble is, though, that the MRI shows clear damage to the neck, which I can't see was caused by Lyme (though maybe the latter exacerbated it). But as to this, thanks Neil for telling me that you know of someone who had what I imagine was a similar op to that which I might have and nevertheless got back in the water again. This chimes with some info emailed to me by a surfer called Markham for which I'm also very grateful.

Allie, Jaydee is right - Lyme is a tick-borne disease and most people, including me, don't remember getting a tick bite. I did have the requisite bull's eye rash caused by Lyme, though. (By the way, Jaydee, your email didn't come up - please drop me a line at alex@alexwade.com.)

And Dave, my luck isn't that bad - I bought a lottery ticket last weekend and guess what? I won £10.00. Result!

On that note of unquenchable optimism, I will sign off and seek peace for the remainder of the evening, armed only with Seneca (and some pain-killers). 

A Dash of Lyme

Ordinarily, being told that one has a disease would not be good news. Today, however, I was cautiously optimistic when contacted by the doctor's surgery to be told that a blood test I'd had revealed that I had Lyme Disease. I suspected as much a couple of weeks ago, having done a bit of research on my symptoms, but the result of the MRI scan obliterated all thought of this. I'd resigned myself to cervical myelopathy, pure and simple.

So off I went to see the doc, full of a strange kind of hope. If I had Lyme Disease - which can mess up your nervous system - perhaps that meant that though I also had cervical myelopathy, the pain and difficulty walking would vanish after a decent course of antibiotics?

Sadly, this is unlikely to be the case. Yes, I have Lyme Disease, but yes, I also have cervical myelopathy. The doc said it's "very unlikely" that my neck pain and walking problems are caused by Lyme.

He further cautioned that though the neurologist would be the man to make the decision, he suspected an op to decompress my spine was on the cards. That being the case, could I return to surfing and other sports afterwards?

The doc said that if the op went well, it could just be that a year later I might be able to ride a wave again. 

Hearing this - the first bit of good news for a few days - I said I'd quit while I was ahead. I legged it from the surgery and got myself home, pronto, before any other diagnoses could come my way.

Look out for my next post, in which I am run over by a lorry, told I have liver disease and eaten by my dogs before realising that my twin fin is a member of the Taleban. 

Does this MRI Report look good from a surfing point of view?

Today it occurred to me that I ought to obtain a copy of my MRI report, so off I went to Cape Cornwall Surgery and got one. The text is below. Apologies for fairly downcast hue of this blog of late, so too for banging on about myelopathy again. Truth is that there may well be a few more myelopathic posts in the coming weeks, not least because I'm hoping that someone out there has experience of having been diagnosed with cervical myelopathy and nevertheless continuing to surf.

MRI Report

Clinical History: Previous Cervical Spine Injury. Recurrent pain/spasm in neck following recent injury.

MRI spine cervical: Sequence: sagittal T1 and T2 weighted images were acquired through the cervical spine with axial BTFE images from C2 to T1. There is loss of the normal cervical lordosis with disc dehydration and loss of disc height in the cervical spine. There is multilevel degenerative change with narrowing of the spinal canal due to combination of disc osteophytic bars and facet joint hypertrophy at C3/4, C4/5 and C5/6. At C4/5 the cord is compressed and there is focal high signal within the cord consistent with cervical myelopathy.

There is significant narrowing of the next foramina on the left at C3/4, bilaterally at C4/5 and C5/6 and on the right at C6/7 and C7/T1.

Comment: - There is cord compression with cervical myelopathy at C4/5. A neurological opinion is advised.

Now then, not being medically trained I don't know what all of that means, though I strongly suspect that my dream of surfing Thurso East will not be realised. I got close, surfing the Shit Pipe on a reasonably good day, and had the O'Neill Highland Open not been on would have paddled out and got a few waves at Thurso. Fair enough, you win some, you lose some. But does that MRI report mean that surfing is over, period?