#UncoveringTheMystery #ChronicLymeDisease
#ExPlantSurgery@drfengclinic #MyHealthJourney #DeterminedToFindACure
Six days after the surgery, Dr. Feng removes the drains, wraps my chest in a tight bandage, and sends me on my way. Erika, who had been shooting the Housewives in New York and is on her way back to L.A., offered to pick us up in Cleveland on her private plane. This is a perfect little reward and I’m very grateful not to be on a commercial flight. The ride is smooth and I sleep most of the way home while Erika and Paige hang out. I’m happy to see that Gigi and Bella are waiting for me at home. This is the best medicine I can ask for. A few days later, David leaves for Asia, so the girls, Anwar, and I go to Santa Barbara for a long weekend to relax and soak in the fresh ocean air. Gigi is appointed head nurse so she changes my bandages, but all three of them take responsibility for my care. We stay at a friend’s little beach house and we take very short walks, hang out, talk, and rest. It’s such a great joy to watch my girls ride polo ponies on the beach and connect to nature in the beautiful place where I raised my family and that really is our home.
I feel a little better every day, and over the weeks that follow I do things to help heal, like cryotherapy where you go into a booth that is minus 140 degrees Celsius. It cools your skin and body quickly, and your body is supposed to produce its own natural anti-inflammatory molecules. This helps me reduce the swelling from my surgery immediately and should speed up healing. I also do something called Myers’ cocktail IVs, a vitamin infusion to boost the immune system.
Three weeks later, I think I’m well enough to walk on the treadmill in the gym of our apartment complex. I haven’t been in a gym since that day before our wedding when I practically collapsed from exhaustion in front of Dale and David. It’s time to get my ass back in gear. I slip into my workout clothes. My implants blocked me from healing! It’s time to get on with my life. Push it, girl, it’s mind over matter. The first day, I walk for fifteen minutes. It’s hard and my body feels weak. I proudly take a selfie. I’m making real progress. But I tend to overdo things, so in my typical fashion I push myself to walk for thirty minutes the next day. Clearly, I’ve overdone it, because two days in a row of walking knocks my socks off. I don’t get up for weeks.
My Diary
September 5, 2015
Went to Beverly Hot Springs for body scrub to get all this dead skin off of me. Have some clear thoughts coming to me. Maybe my brain is recalibrating.
The Housewives is filming every day. Although my shooting time is very minimal, even when I am on camera, I don’t do much. My body goes through the motions, but I’m not mentally involved in anything that’s going on. My focus is uncovering the mystery of my chronic disease and waking up in the morning to get my son off to school. I keep track of my children, do my treatments, try to keep my husband happy, but most of all I’m just trying to stay alive.
September 12, 2015
Don’t view my bad days as a sign of weakness—those are actually the days I fight my hardest. #LifeFromTheSideLines #ChronicLymeDiseaseAwareneness #1StepForward2StepsBack #DontJudgeSome1sPathUnlessUWalkedIt
Although my castmates are kind to my face and seem happy to see me when I’m able to come to work, I hear that some of them question whether I’m truly sick. Apparently, one of the women is confused by my Instagram posts and the fact that one photo shows me having a treatment and not looking well, while the next shows me smiling with my kids. How can you judge someone’s health or well-being from the twenty seconds that it takes to snap a good or a bad selfie, especially someone with an invisible disease like Lyme? Over the years, I’ve learned that we live in a very critical world: instead of picking up the phone or stopping by to check on a friend who is obviously struggling, people prefer to stay home and judge. A Lyme patient can’t just wait for the storm to pass, because the storm might last five or ten years. As a result, we must learn to dance in the rain, meaning even if you have only one good hour in each day, you must appreciate that and learn to find the smallest joys. We have good days and bad days—or, even worse, good hours and bad hours—it’s just part of this heinous journey. Does one need to have scars, suffer broken bones, or lose their hair to warrant empathy from others? It is heartbreaking that the women talk behind my back and debate my illness publicly. How do you look at someone who is sick and say, “You’re faking it”? It’s hard to imagine that anyone would publicly deny or belittle another human being’s disease. Who has three and a half years to fake being sick? Not me! Why would I choose to stay in bed for this many years when I have a wonderful life to live? What’s the upside? What could I possibly gain from such a choice?
These women lack much knowledge and consciousness. Sitting on the sidelines for hundreds of days is an experience they’ve obviously never had, so how could I expect them to understand? I’ve learned to let these things roll off my Teflon back and blame it on ignorance. I see the higher purpose of my journey and exist on a very different vibration than any of these women in order to survive. If they have honest questions about my illness, they should come to my house and look at my medical files. These binders chart the course of my journey. They tell the story of a woman who is fighting her ass off against a complex and multifaceted disease. I’m 100 percent immersed in uncovering my own murder mystery, determined to prove the crime to myself.
For one day of filming, I go to Lisa Vanderpump’s birthday lunch. This is the second time I’ve been up and about for the show, and the moment I walk into the room I immediately feel an undertone of weird, negative energy. At this point, I’m such a raw, open wound that I can deeply feel the energy of a mosquito flying by. Getting dressed, buying flowers, and going to lunch is a great personal accomplishment for me today, but yet I can’t assume people understand how this feels unless they’ve been in my shoes. Clearly, Kyle is angry that I haven’t shown up for filming more often which really bothers me, because she knows me, she knows my work ethic, if I could be there, I would be. I kind of expected the women to have my back while filming in the same way I’ve protected them throughout difficult times in their personal lives on the show. I have a lot of factual information in the vault that could discredit them and their lives, but I’ve always chosen to work with integrity and point out their strengths instead of their weaknesses. I leave that birthday party stressed and frustrated. My brain wasn’t quick enough to respond intelligently and on the spot, so I send Kyle an e-mail and cc the other women after I digest what was said.
Dear Kyle,
After marinating on what went down yesterday, I wanted to bring a couple of things to your attention: I am coming out of a three-year ordeal of living in a mentally paralyzed cocoon, due to a infection in my brain called NEUROBORRELIOSIS, something you might want to research in case you would like to have an understanding of Lyme disease, the biggest global epidemic in today’s world.
I arrived with a great attitude yesterday and am proud of myself for making it out of bed and joining you girls. For you to go down on me so hard in order to create what you think is good TV is beyond my understanding and it left me quite confused. Living in my very isolated world, I am not used to being attacked in such an unkind way.
As far as I knew, Lisa R and my incident was clearly resolved at Erika’s house. Christopher Cullen is the producer of our show and he is doing an excellent job. I do believe that this is a collaboration of all of us, but trying to co-produce with such desperate measures felt extremely inauthentic to say the least. I am just trying to catch up and participate. I don’t need your pity, but I do ask you kindly to respect my situation. Your lack of compassion is not a pretty look. I also would like to clarify that my deal with Bravo and Evolution is based on the best of my ability, whether that is three or thirty times this season, so I would appreciate it if you lower your expectations of how much I should participate in filming.
Sitting at home, staring at the ceiling, waiting for my brain to heal, is not a choice for me, but unfortunately it is the ca
rd life has dealt me. I am already feeling unaccomplished as it is so please don’t make me feel like I am not holding up my part of the bargain here. If I was out living life with my family and friends, sitting front row at Fashion Week with my girls and not showing up to work I would understand your frustration, but unfortunately this is not the case. So please trust me when I say I am doing the best that I can and, like you, I only want to make the best show possible, but I can’t do more than I do for reasons you will probably never understand. I think we have two strong beautiful new housewives who, given a chance, can make a great season. Let’s have coffee next week and talk about this further in person.—Yo
I hear that the women use the word “Munchausen” in relation to my illness during filming. I’ve never heard that word! What does that even mean? I ask Daisy to look it up. That is such a hurtful word, it infuriates me. Why would anyone make such a distorted and untrue statement related to my health journey? Especially in front of my friends and millions of viewers? It’s simply unconscionable that my supposed “friends” doubt and discredit my word on such a delicate and sensitive matter. But a thousand times worse and more hurtful is when they say that Anwar and Bella don’t have Lyme. I like to believe that everyone has the best intentions with my children—especially those who boast about knowing them since they were babies. Only I know how much these children have suffered so this infuriates me. As an adult, I’ve learned to accept people’s ignorance about invisible chronic disease, but I’m not going to accept doubt cast on my children’s journey. This is where I draw the line!
By sharing my own journey, I know that I have opened up a space for debate, which is useful when it’s done with the right intent and kindness. Debate and transparency is what the Lyme community needs in order to educate the public and bring awareness. Yet it is very sad to see the judgment and ignorance that come with it for all involved, including my own children.
Due to my compromised brain function and lack of energy, the slightest confrontation brings me down. I’m well aware that my tank is half full, so I’m very protective of my energy and try to use it to focus on getting well, instead of worrying about what ignorant people think of me. Sometimes easier said than done though. But here’s the bigger picture: how these women behave mirrors what is actually going on in the real world. People living with long-term illnesses, especially those suffering with invisible diseases such as Lyme, depression, chronic fatigue, and many others, suffer in silence. They’re judged and ridiculed and lose friends and family because their loved ones lack understanding and compassion. It’s a sad part of the truth and I can only say that I’m grateful for going through this as an adult and thank God I have the ability to understand it. I often think about the teenagers with Lyme whose brains are so severely affected that they commit suicide instead of enduring the pain and judgment of their medical communities, families, and friends. What’s happened to today’s world? Why are people so self-absorbed and living without compassion and empathy for others?
Chapter Fifteen
YOU DON’T NEED A CERTAIN NUMBER OF FRIENDS. JUST A NUMBER OF FRIENDS YOU CAN BE CERTAIN OF.
My implants are gone, but the poison that wreaked havoc on my once perfectly imperfect body remains. Dr. Feng estimates that about five percent of the free-floating silicone was not accessible during surgery. I won’t be able to move to the next chapter in my recovery until I get rid of this, so my focus right now is detoxing. This starts with a very clean diet combined with my daily IVs, shots, and detox baths. I work with a toxicologist, Dr. Hildegarde Staninger. She runs a huge panel of blood work, including some silicone blood labs, and with these results she is able to give me guidance on removing the remaining toxins in my body. She immediately makes me get rid of all the plastics in my house and use glass products only. Dr. Staninger also prescribes a lot of holistic things, including essential oils and orange-flower water. I’m fascinated with the power of the oils and how she’s planning to have the toxins attach to it and evacuate my body, which feels stiff and dense so I often see Dr. Dennis Colonello. He has kept me structurally sound for many years now but he is baffled by what this disease has done to me and why he can’t get certain things to move in my body. This is amazing since he’s the man who keeps the entire LA Clippers basketball team running.
I continue to see Dr. Kang, who gives me direction in between my appointments with Dr. Klinghardt. I also do a lot of neural therapy during this time to clear blockages as we try to reboot my autonomic nervous system. Exercise or a small trampoline could really help detox my lymphatic system, but unfortunately my body isn’t ready to do much of anything that requires a lot of energy. Still, I ask Alberto to bring my mini trampoline so I can keep it on the balcony. On a good day, I make myself jump fifty times while holding tightly to the balcony doorknob. Most of the time, I just sit on it. I smoke raw tobacco to calm my raging nervous system as I watch the happy children on the playground next door. I also do lymphatic drainage massages and I’m religious about my daily Epsom salt baths with organic baking soda or apple cider vinegar.
In the weeks that follow, I start having big sores on the top of my head and I’m shocked to see that my two big toenails are black. I learn that this is from the leftover silicone granulomas that are being pushed out, fascinating signs of the body’s power and natural ability to detox. Stuff continues to come out of the strangest places, like my chest and stomach. It’s really a hideous process, but I’m so fascinated by how hard my body is working and the magic healing this powerhouse is showing me.
This is why I can’t be mad at my fat ass for not fitting into any of my dresses when I’m looking for something to wear to the upcoming Global Lyme Alliance gala. The thought of putting on fancy clothes and high heels and having to socialize right now is overwhelming. After all, I’ve spent most of the past year in my fuzzy white robe in my safe cocoon. I never weigh myself and stopped looking in the mirror a long time ago. It’s been even longer since I stood naked in front of one, but it’s time. I peel off my robe and nightgown and stare at my reflection. This isn’t pretty. Even though my diet has been stellar and my implants are gone, I’ve gained around twenty pounds of who knows what. I’ve been in a healing crisis for so many years, and it shows in the scarred, sick body looking back at me. The old me would have gotten really frustrated right about now, but instead I feel a deep appreciation, compassion, and respect for my body. I’ve completely lost the superficial connection to the outside world and I don’t care if I ever wear another dress in my life! I think I’ve got this and just want to stay buckled down and fight with every inch of me.
I also know that once I regain my strength and want to get back in shape, I can do it. I weighed two hundred pounds the day after I gave birth to Gigi and was shooting a bathing suit campaign ninety days later. So once my body is healed, I’ll be disciplined enough to do it again. David likes me very skinny, and the old me was okay with this. But now I wonder why did I care? I have gracefully let go of trying to impress anyone. After my breast surgery, I’m in no mood to be anyone’s sex object anymore. The transition to my original 1964 has been a long and arduous road but it feels good to own who I am today. This is clearly not what David had signed up for. He really hasn’t changed. I am the one who changed, maybe no longer the arm candy he married just four years earlier. However, I’ve become a much better, more grounded, and stronger version of myself, something he isn’t quite capable of seeing right now or feeling in his heart. It’s becoming very clear to me that my spiritual growth in this journey is mine and mine only.
Right before leaving for New York, I get a call from Chris Cortazzo saying that we got a great offer on the Malibu house.
“The buyers have come to see it three times and are in love with it,” he says. “They want to close in two weeks.” Two weeks? That’s crazy. Then again, this is what I’ve been praying for. It’s time to say good-bye to this beautiful and magical place that I once called home.
“They want to buy it fu
rnished,” Chris says.
“Great,” I reply.
“Don’t you want to keep any of your pieces from Santa Barbara?” David asks. A lot of the furniture in Malibu came from my house before David and I moved in together. Strangely, I feel no connection to any material things. Zero. Right now, nothing but my health matters to me. The buyers can keep it all, even my closet and my clothes! The only thing I will miss is my beautiful, famous fridge, something I know I can rebuild again one day. At this point, I need simplicity and the thought of being free from this stress is worth everything.
The second annual Lyme gala is in October, back in New York City. I invite all the housewives because I think an evening like this will open their eyes and, hopefully, their hearts. They will finally see that I’m not the only person in the world suffering from this invisible disease; my problem is shared by millions! Hearing other people at the gala—especially children—talk about their Lyme battles will most likely change their perspective and hopefully will be a humbling experience. Unfortunately, the two women who need to hear this message the most—Lisa Rinna and Lisa Vanderpump—decline my invitation.
During this detoxing and healing time, my skin has become so sensitive, my bones hurt, and my chest is still raw inside, so the thought of flying across the country is not a happy one. Tom and Erika generously offer to fly everyone to New York on their private plane so that makes the trip a lot less stressful for my immune system. Nothing in the superficial world resonates with me anymore and the thought of getting dressed up and masking my spirit with makeup feels uncomfortable. I’ve been working on my speech for weeks without much success. It’s such a frustrating reminder that I’ve lost the crucial ability to let my thoughts flow freely. The old me could easily wing a speech or memorize one, but at this point I can’t do it without the teleprompter.
David and I arrive at the gala at Cipriani. I’m grateful to have my mom and children here to ground my spirit, as well as my Lyme squad: Dr. Piro, Tom, Paige, Amber, Kelly, Marc, and Daisy, who have stood by me every step of the way, never questioning my journey and always going above and beyond. I try to smile and engage with others as much as I can, but it’s a rough night inside my paralyzed brain. The loud symphony of life’s sounds that fills the room is hard to handle and puts me in overdrive soon after we arrive. I wiggle my way through the night the best that I can. After all, this event supports my search for a cure, and, truthfully, if only a handful of people change their perception of Lyme, it is worth being here.
Believe Me Page 25