I knew I’d feel worse before I’d feel better.
I was warned that I would feel like I had the flu.
I had been living with muscle and joint pain for a year and a half…how much worse could it really be???
Well. A lot.
The new antifungal drug kicked in late last week. That, combined with a week of other treatment activities like a lymphatic massage, dry brushing, rebounding, LED Saunas, and hours of epsom salt baths, made it feel like the mold was kicking and screaming and fighting its way out of each and every one of my cells, beating me up in the process. Antifungals are needed on top of binders and other supplements to help rebalance the bacteria in a body that’s dealing with mold toxicity. Our natural good bacteria are no match for the mycotoxins that invade, throwing off the bacterial balance in big ways. This drug will kill off the bad bacteria and infection that the mold has allowed to overrun my body. While it’s a needed step, it’s no cake walk.
Everything hurts. My arms weigh 1000 pounds. My back muscles burn up and down. My joints ache whether they’re in use or not. There’s an imaginary rubber band squeezing my head and shoulders. Tendons are yelling at me every time I move. Every inch of me is so sensitive, even my stretchiest pants feel too tight. I knocked my thumb on a table as I walked by it the other day and the pain brought me to my knees. I’ve never felt more dramatic in my life. Or confused. I kept looking at my throbbing thumb, then at the table, and back at my thumb. The intense pain just did not compute. It far outweighed the severity of the slight bump against the table. It feels like every nerve ending is fired up and just waiting for a reason to lose its cool.
After days of feeling like I’d been run over a few times by a big truck, I took Sunday off from treatment. No sweating it out in the sauna. No getting pruney in the tub. No bouncing on my tiny trampoline. Just rest and meds and good food.
On Monday, I felt like I could get back to it. I wasn’t filled with pain with every breath. I didn’t feel like collapsing after taking a shower. Yes, I still hurt, but more like my January hurt and less like the “I can’t take months of this” hurt. I even left the house for the first time in a week.
I’ve been preaching and trying to intentionally practice Sabbath for more than 10 years. Why am I always surprised when it works? This treatment protocol is my job. Taking a day off to reset both mentally and physically not only makes sense, now I know it’s required.
When I showed my intense treatment schedule to my doctor back in January, she warned me that it was a lot. I think her exact words were “this is literally everything you could possibly do all in one schedule.” Yep, I thought. I’m going all in on this! If it’s on the schedule, it’s happening! She kept saying things like “You might need to take breaks…This is a lot…It’s ok to take it slower…Slow and steady is our goal.” Ha! I thought…has she MET me? I’m going to dive in head first, kill this mold with a vengeance, will it out of my cells and my body, and be the All Time Grand Champion of Mold Toxicity!
Exactly how many lessons in slowing down do you think I’ll end up needing before I get it?
While I’m still committed to my schedule and doing allllll the things I can to get through this process as efficiently as possible, I can see how a regular Sabbath from the work of this treatment will help me go the distance. What was true for my work life, is true for my treatment life. And it’s true for all parts of life. Sabbath is required if we want to succeed. Study after study tells us that those who rest are the most productive, creative, and motivated. Those who work non-stop end up burned out, resentful, and unhappy. Not only did my brain need a break after a week of running a tight treatment ship, but so did my overworked body.
Here on Wednesday, I’m three days into the full treatment schedule once more and the pain is building. The fire in my nerve endings is starting to glow again and the aches in my limbs are setting in. My arms are back to being heavy weights attached to my body and my tendons are really upset that they even exist. You’ve heard it said that “pain is fear leaving the body”. In this case, pain is mold leaving my body. So it’s true for now – no pain, no gain.
But, Sunday’s coming.
How can you help?
- There are lots of products I’ll need that can be gifted. Check out the amazon wish list here.
- Send me fun hobby ideas. I need distractions!
- Send me your best book recommendations or loan me your favorites.
- And of course, I welcome hilarious jokes, memes, or stories from your life. I hope friends will keep me laughing. Tell me what’s happening in your world! Don’t expect a call back – just know I’m deeply grateful to be connected to you.
One thought on “no pain, no gain”
Such good words! Really sorry to hear about the pain but so glad you found Sabbath. Again. Preach sister!