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.

Comments

[Markhamnolan]

You're using the Limes wrong: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1wg_L0wGTyA

Fingers crossed.

PS: Before you read 'It's not about the bike', read this one on Lance - Lance's book is unbearably preachy, whereas this captures the Lance phenomenon objectively, and it's damn impressive.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/0007195281?ie=UTF8&tag=expad-21&linkCode=as2&camp=1634&creative=19450&creativeASIN=0007195281

[Alex Wade]

Excellent!

[Neil Watson]

No sooner was I thinking "Alex turned bad times into a good book before - he could do it again", than you give us the title.
Glad to see you're still one (wobbly) step ahead of the game!

[Alex Wade]

Neil, you're onto something for sure. The only problem is actually managing to surf again BUT I am a determined old bastard so roll on Lyme cure, the op and some waves next summer...

Here's a thought you'll appreciate. As you know, our good friend Prof. Martin wrote a book chronicling the Bradshaw/Foo rivalry. He made much of Foo's famous quote, something along the lines of: It's not tragic to die doing something you love.

My thought is this. I'm told that if I go surfing (which I love), any jolt to my head or neck - e.g. paddling out and getting a wave on the head when duck-diving, or twisting the neck when turning - could irreparably crush the nerves somewhere around C4 in my spine. In other words, I'd be paralysed.

If that happened, in the sea, I would inevitably drown.

So I am in an interesting position. I could choose to paddle out (suitably dosed up on painkillers) knowing full well that what to any fit surfer would be an everyday surfing event could kill me.

I dont think I'll be paddling out. Sounds a bit tragic to me. But there may yet be some literary/comedic value in the conceit...

Alex

[EnglandTabatha]

I had a dream to start my firm, nevertheless I didn't have enough amount of money to do this. Thank heaven my colleague advised to use the home loans. Thus I took the consolidation loans and made real my desire.