The Rolf-Induced Detox

Holy crap, this disease is a bitch.

My most recent diagnostics indicate that my borrelia numbers and macrophages/monocytes are off the charts high (the latter indicating chronic infection in the body). I have a fever around 100 degrees on most days, and no energy. By the time I'm up and showered, I'm back in bed. It's like having the flu on a daily basis.

As my regular readers know, all the medications and supplements I've taken over the last three years made me immensely sicker—practically bedridden on most days. So I quit everything earlier this year to let my immune system stabilize.

Well, while taking a break from oral medication, I thought it would be a good idea to focus most of my healing energy on my skeletal structure, since I'm increasingly struggling to stand on my feet.

So, over the last three months or so, I've seen orthopedists, chiropractors, a rolfer, and taken a yoga class.

Each specialist has confirmed without dispute that I have flat arches, rotated ankles, bunions, one rotated knee with damaged cartilage, a rotated pelvis with one hip bone two inches above the other, a torqued trunk, a 37-degree curvature in my spine, and displaced discs in my neck. Their eyes enlarge when they study my bones, and they seem surprised that I have any balance at all.

So, this fall, I finally decided it was time to fix this, if possible. I'm thirty-two years old and deteriorating faster than a peach in the summer sun. If I have any hopes of being physically mobile when I hit middle-age, this has to be given proper attention.

During my first session with the orthopedist, extra attention was given to adjusting my feet, hips and spine. Bones were popped and cracked left and right.

Before I could even pay and get to my car in the parking lot, I felt a case of encephalitis coming on fast and furiously. I took a seat on the couch in the waiting room, which turned into a two-hour torture session in which I could not move or open my eyes. I simply laid on the couch and cried. After two hours and lots of drinking water, I was able to stumble to my car and carefully drive the five miles home.

The worst of it was gone within twenty-four hours. So it was nothing compared to what came next.

Three or four weeks later, I saw a certified Rolfer. If you're not familiar with Rolfing, it's basically chiropractic work on steroids—bones are not "cracked", but rather, moved around with the pressure of strong hands. Bones, ligaments, muscles, fat, and lymph all get moved around and put "in proper place".

My sister, who shares some of the same symptoms as me (but to a much smaller degree), insisted that Rolfing would restore the arches in my feet. It worked miracles for her! Her testimony gave me hope.

My first session with my Rolfer lasted two grueling hours, during which a lot of pressure was applied around my armpits. When was the last time somebody pushed upwards, into your armpits? Probably never. It was definitely a first.

My shoulder sockets were realigned via my armpits, with painful pressure administered upward and outward. Then the Rolfer discovered that my right lung was not taking in as much air as my left lung, due to the way my right ribcage developed. So he worked with my chest bone, near my thymus gland, and my ribcage, in opening up my airways so my right lung could expand all the way.

Well, afterward, I was sore in the way one might be after hitting the gym. But I did not expect what happened next.

One. week. of. intense. detox. Detox like I had never detoxed in my life. Vomiting, dry heaving, diarrhea, sweating buckets, an acne breakout, and inflammation from my head to my toes (including a very inflamed ovary, in spite of my period having JUST ended).

It was one of those experiences where all I could do was lay in bed (or by the toilet), cry, pray for it to end, or pray for death to come.

A healthy person might scoff at the notion that a Rolfing session alone could do that to me—you would imagine it had to be a virus, or food poisoning.

But the naturopaths and various other experts with whom I inquired after the fact (including the guy who runs BetterHealthGuy), weren't at all surprised that Rolfing did that to me. A couple of them even pointedly asked what I was thinking doing something so aggressive.

Hindsight is 20/20, isn't it? I chock this up to another case of Leila being overly excited and under-cautious.

The consensus was multi-layered: For one, Lyme, babesia, and other coinfections like to hide out in fatty tissue, lymph, and bone matter. (You won't always find the bugs in your actual bloodstream, especially in late-stage cases.) So Rolfing mobilized them out of their hiding places, setting off an immune response, lots of dieoff, and well, you get the picture.

Suddenly my body was feebly trying to keep up with everything that was going on with my immune system and nervous system. Toxins were ambitiously circulating throughout my body (and as we discussed in the past, into my brain due to a leaky blood-brain barrier).

And here I was imagining that only medications and supplements could topple my system! Ha!

Okay, so... I can't do Lyme treatment—I can't tolerate the antibiotics or the herbs. I can't tolerate even minute doses of methylation supplements. And I can't take any thyroid medication anymore.

And now I can't do much chiropractic work without pushing the envelope.

I'm still reacting to a whole host of fumes and contaminants, electromagnetic fields, molds and food ingredients.

At this point, after all these somewhat repetitive blog posts, I think I need to focus my energies in a new direction. Right now I can't say what direction that is. I'll be brainstorming my options. Luckily, there's a never-ending list of directions one with my issues can head. If you Google "Lyme disease treatment", you will literally find thousands of ideas. And while it often feels like I've exhausted my options with nutritional support, methylation support, antibiotics, immune modulation, diets and energy work, I know I could spend an entire lifetime on treatments before fully exhausting options. (Stem cell treatment in India, anyone?) 

Just another week in the life of a Lymie... just another learning experience.