TT - The Fiery Place

(excerpt taken from my Meditation of the week post entitled Autumnal Gratitudes.)


Living With West Nile

I was "unofficially" diagnosed with West Nile by two separate doctors. To be officially diagnosed would have cost me thousands of dollars - without insurance - in specialized testing. Due to the onset of my symptoms in relation to when I had been in the mountains, the duration of my symptoms, the pattern of the symptoms and the fact that no one around me became sick, my personal physician stated he was 99.9% certain that we were dealing with that virus. However, because we did not have the testing to back his diagnosis, he approached my treatment from every angle. Being a naturopath, he diagnosed a series of intense homeopathy to support my immune system, which was doing its utmost best to keep me alive. It worked and I am alive today.

I experienced West Nile as a very debilitating disease. For me, it started with the muscles of my neck and shoulders being completely immobile. For two days it was as though I had an anvil placed on my shoulders and attached to the back of my skull. It was all I could do to hold up my head. Driving was excruciating as I could not look from side to side and most of my upper body was clenched in a death grip, as well.

When the rigidity passed, I had no strength in any of my muscles. I was weak and unable to do even the most basic of tasks. Dressing myself was an exertion. Taking a shower caused me to need to nap for an hour. Walking down a flight of twelve stairs left me winded and exhausted. Going up those same stairs required I take a break halfway through to catch my breath and regain my strength.

The low-grade fever began on the third night. Interestingly enough, it disappeared during the day and would only show up as I began to ready myself for bed. The heightened body temperature made for uncomfortable, sleepless nights. By the fifth day, the fever began to invade my body during the day and was settling in for an average of 101.9 and peaking to 104.3, at times. For 24 days, I lived with this fever. I felt parched and sunken. My eyes burned and felt as though they were bugging out of my head.

The fever-induced nightmares with images that scalded my brain. Some nights I struggled in and out of the depths with demons chasing me, opening my eyes in the dawn to find I felt worse than when I had laid down the night before. One night I dreamt I was drowning in a hot pool and awoke to find myself still in the water. Startled to find that the dream was reality and that I was, in fact, in a lake, I shot up in my bed. My bed, my pajamas, my body and my hair was completely drenched to the point that it was dripping from me and pooling in uncomfortable places. That night, my fever was at 104.3 and I was sweating away my precious life fluids.

On the seventh day the rash appeared in annoying, itchy patches all over my body and mostly on my scalp. My entire head felt as though it had been dipped in sap and fire ants. Everywhere the little bumps appeared, I would have an irrational need to scratch. There would be a slight burning sensation as a small hint that a patch was going to pop up in one area or another and then, the screaming irritation would assail my senses and I would spy the telltale perfectly-round and slightly raised bumps.

The most disconcerting and debilitating aspect of this illness was the apathy that accosted me, in combination with the zapping of my energy. There were days when I wallowed in the mire of indifference and wished for Death - who, in the beginning, always lurked outside my door - to take me. When the battle began in my body, I had only ten minutes of energy in my reserve and then I would crash into bed for four or five hours to be assaulted by feverish images of horror. My eyes burned with fever. My eyesight wavered noticeably in the heat and, sometimes disappeared all together; therefore I could not read or watch television. My attention span was all of about 30 seconds so I was good for nothing that required concentration. I existed on water and chicken broth for about four weeks and have yet to regain my appetite.

After being sick for so long, I feel out of touch and as though this writing is stretching me. Interestingly enough, I am a changed person after my extended sabbatical. I feel new and strange in my body and in the circles in which I used to travel. It is not as though I have been reborn but, instead, have been born for the first time. I am a new person.

Now my energy reserve is up to about ten hours a day, for which I am grateful. I have become really clear on my boundaries through this process. I definitely know who I am, what is okay for me and what is not. More importantly, I am able to clearly express my limitations and hold strong to what is good for me. If I am pushed in a direction that is not good for me, I know immediately and I retaliate. This is all new for me. In the past, I did not know myself nor did I know my boundaries and if, by some chance, I realized that something was "wrong" I definitely could not voice it. I have also discovered that if I push past the point where my body says, "I'm done," then I become toxic. My body will reek of toxins and lethargy begins to pull me into an abyss.

This illness has blessed me. I have had six weeks of exaggerated aloneness and isolation to reflect on myself and my relationships. It has purified me and has brought clarity that I am willing to bet would have come no other way. Through the process of healing, my personality has been altered and my character defined. My eyes have opened to truths I could have seen no other way and I have come to realize that there are just some things - and people - that are no longer worthy of the time and energy I once devoted.

They say that when one faces death, it changes the life they live. Yes, it does. And I am grateful.