What is my life now?

flea bites and rash all over the torso


The saga of tm’s questionable health continues.

Tests came back positive for Bartonella.

Due to my wonderful third world living circumstances, I contracted a new bacterial infection from fleas brought into the house by a kitten. The kitten was brought into the house by a certain SOME ONE.

No one else has been effected by the bacteria. Just me.

Just me because I was the one trying to build myself up after a year dealing with Brucella only to then be given the gift of COVID (thanks to SOME ONE) and while trying to recover from that, Bartonella took the opportunity to walk right on into my system. I fought it valiantly for two months. By April, I felt almost the way I did when I had Brucellosis. I saw a doctor. I traveled to New Jersey/NYC keeping myself going with herbs.

And then the fun really began!

As soon as I started taking antibiotics, the ever delightful Jarisch-Herxheimer Reaction took center stage. But no one warned me about it so I had to do my best to hold my shit together. My best guess what that I was having a serious allergic reaction. I didn’t quite think I was dying at the time, but I didn’t know how far this reaction would escalate. 

My lips and face went numb, my throat would tighten up, I lost feeling in… almost all the left side of my body. There were (still are) pin and needles and pen knife stabbing sensations all over at random at every hour; like I fell into a cactus patch. Aching. Joint pain. Heel pain. Head pain. Muscle pain. Gland pain. Eye pain. Tooth Pain. It’s a whole shopping list of sensual delights! Absolutely nothing to be alarmed about here.

I’m glad I waited until after I returned from New Jersey/NYC to start any hard treatment because of all this nonsense.

I found myself in this position of being scared to stop taking antibiotics and being scared to take them. If you stop taking them the bacterial regrowth is crazy and there is that pesky matter of resistance. And at that point, if I kept antibiotics I didn’t know if I was utterly destroying my peripheral nervous system or having a reaction that could eventually become life threatening. Or both! Why not both?!
I consulted the internet, as I could. Which is the worst. You have to keep making sure you aren’t reading about some other half-way related topic. Because all this other stuff keeps showing in searches up when you never ask for it. And most of the time my head hasn’t been very clear so I would get confused and frustrated. All advice there ultimately recommends going to see a professional anyway so…

I went back to the doc that gave me the antibitoics and was told that if I gained weight I would not feel the negative effects so badly. 

And I was like- ‘Wow, you really don’t know what is happening here either. Great.’

(Weight has nothing to do with herxing. I seriously doubt all the people out there suffering the reaction are lightweights. Just because I am underweight according to cookie cutter medical book standards doesn’t mean that is a negative factor. And being urged to put on 10+ extra pounds ASAP feels extremely aggressive when you have IBS and no big appetite- because you are, well, SICK and depressed.)

So I had to keep looking online for experiences others have had. From those I’ve been able to calm down mentally and be confident in taking the antibiotics. I still have very uncomfortable moments, but nothing as bad as it was at the beginning. I don’t know how long I will be herxing- it could go on for weeks, but at least now I am pretty sure that is what is going on.

And if you have some three day juice cleans for “mold” and are like, ‘oh, I have a little headache and I feel a bit tired,’ let me inform you that you are not- you are f*ing NOT herxing. Don’t insult those of us who’ve actually gone through hell. 

It’s not HIV!

ai compliation of "theresa magario" images found online

Into June, into insomnia. 

Along with a host of other symptoms that indicate a bacterial infection, I am doing juuust “splendidly.”

I have been a year and a half of my life under trash clouds threatening refuse deluges knowing- more or less- that it’s because of bacterial infection. As I told one of my brothers recently in a chat, knowing is not half the battle, in this case. 

This brother has also dealt with a testy bacterial infection. His version happened to be tick-borne Lyme. Coincidentally, he’s anxious about recent reinfection and is waiting on test results himself.  

Go Team Antibiotic! 

Let’s say, just staying upright and communicating coherently is more like half the battle here for me.

I might seem sharp enough, but I’m struggling through like I’ve had half a tequila bottle. Chewing the glass and all.  

So I fasted and trucked myself off to have seven vials of blood drawn- by seven dwarves and sent to seven underground labs… no wait. no. That fairytale doesn’t exist.

The blood samples are being tested and cultured in labs as I type. 

The only test that came back quick was for HIV. I would still be on the floor in shock if that came back positive for the sheer HOW of it all. I had the test done to humor the infectologist. I understand that she just wants to rule out all that she can. And she doesn’t know my lifestyle choices after all.  Lifestyle choices. I feel like I am too economically challenged to have (m)any of those. 

No HIV is like the only positive health news I have yet. Well, no. I can say that my depression has lightened up even with the sleep disruptions and the perpetual brain-fog, I am not so deep under these days. 

Previous Brucellosis tests came back negative, but those were rapid tests. Based on how I have been feeling, that can’t be accurate. Yet it might be and I am just over reacting to antibodies. Or however that works.. How ever the body doesn’t work… 

With everything so inconclusive, the good doctora finally got me the request for a blood culture to be done. That’s where they let my blood sit on a shelf and see if it grows any Brucella. (If this is all inaccurate, I’m taking artistic license with my description. Don’t come at me.)  It’s an like extra special request because labs seem to throw things out as soon as possible. Or so I have read from other people who try to get this test done and their samples are thrown out too soon delaying their chance at being properly diagnosed. (News like this kills me to hear.)

I am also being tested for Bartonella and some type of fungus-

Because I may have been reinfected with something else… Because the Universe loves me soo, so much. And is only conspiring to do me every kind of good!💩

My brother must be a kinder soul than I. He told me he wouldn’t wish these things on anyone. 

Well, I am in a different place than
my brother. I would wish this on people. I want to SHARE the things that keep me small and slow and so easy for people to step on/pass over. 

These tiny little infections really take you down so many pegs. And I know a few precious creatures out there who could use the take down. I know so many others who need to be shielded from any more such devastations….  

I have such, such fodder for curse material now. Don’t cross me. 

If you would like a creative curse written up, lemme know, huh? 

💀💅

Hi there, I’m lost

Today is my 40th birthday. 

I am not a very happy person. 

I woke up in a modern (crap) hotel room in New Jersey instead of some ancient palazzo in Venice Italy. I was supposed to be in Venice. Venice was promised to me twice now and each time it’s magically removed from the equation. This last time Hugo suddenly got a show at Mana Contemporary so all the plans changed. Once again. And there was nothing I could do about any of it.

I’ve been away from Mexico for over a week now, but I am still in a kind of cocoon. I haven’t reached out to anyone or made any big plans.  Being sick strips you of your ability to make plans.

The biggest thing I did was buy tickets to see a Lingua Ignota concert in Manhattan on May 8th; a birthday present- to myself. It was a risk, but it was one I was willing to make. To see the best thing that has ever come out of Del f*ing Mar perform live has been the brightest part of my trip so far. 

While Hugo paints walls and advances his career, it seems like I’ve mostly been in this hotel room fighting off a UTI (with herbs and teas, without antibiotics so far).  I’ve been dealing it for a month or even more. I think. And I keep feeling symptoms similar brucellosis, so that’s really screwing me over. 

And I’ve been being incredibly weird about going outside too much because not enough people are wearing masks any more. Even on the metro. 

And I have been weird about spending money. I don’t want to spend too much so I skip out on the public transportation, but then I go to the deli-market downstairs and blow way too much cash on food stuffs anyway. So much for not over-pending.

I have been a wreck for a long time. I’ve been a worrisome wreck for over a year and counting now. 

Need visible proof? I’m covered in adult acne. At which I scrape and claw at like any perfectly mentally sound person would. So it looks even more horrific. I have a skin picking habit after all. My lips have suffered this since I was in kindergarten. These painful and spots are the evidence of my inner state. 

I will wear long sleeves. I won’t wear that thong around the house. I will wear my mask constantly in public to cover this mess on my face. 

Hey, if I can keep on wearing a mask maybe I will just let all my chin hairs grown in and stop destroying my face trying to tweeze. 

I have to spend a lot more money on products and services to mend my wounds. The external and internal ones. Spend. Spend. Spend. 

I am doing my best to stay in some kind of physical shape. But when my joints swell up and I get headaches out of no where and there is shooting pain in random parts of my body, and I have no idea what is best to fuel my body with, I start questioning my entire existence. 

I am trying to put on pleasant faces and not be too mean, but I hurt. I am so jaded. 

And I am so lost. So left behind.

I never made plans that involved living this long.

I don’t know what all that cancer was for. 

I don’t know what these trucking bacterial infections are for.

I don’t know what I am anymore. Do I even exist as a me? Am I just a lump of warring bacteria now? 

What was the point of becoming a performer? I cannot perform now. I have no confidence in my body or my mind.

What was the point on having a uterus?

What abilities did I ever have? 

I cannot draw. I cannot paint. 

My writing hasn’t gotten me anywhere.

I have no voice.

No, I do not exist.

I am not a real person. 

The US government confirmed I am not a person when it never gave me any money during the pandemic. 

Hugo insists there are good things coming. For him. They are coming for him. I am just sort of here. Fading. Like any world weary elf that cannot cross the sea. Out of place. And out of time.

Certainly, not your problem. 

This evening I will dress in a tragic goth outfit and find the green fairy. Because I can do that in this part of the world. And it might just be.. a little.. you know… fun.