Happy Thanksgiving!


https://globallymealliance.org/dear-lyme-warriorhelp-9/

by Jennifer Crystal
Every few months, Jennifer Crystal devotes a column to answering your questions. Here she answers some questions she recently received. Do you have a question for Jennifer? If so, email her at lymewarriorjennifercrystal@gmail.com.
Did your pain move sometimes? My worst pain is near some scar tissue.
Yes! One of the defining features of Lyme pain is that it’s migratory. This distinguishes it from, say, the pain of Rheumatoid Arthritis (RA), which is more symmetrical (both knees instead of just one), and which doesn’t tend to move around like Lyme pain. While RA affects most of the joints, Lyme can affect one, two, or many.
I felt pain mostly in my forearms and shins, but also sometimes in my back, neck, and head. Sometimes my fingers ached so much I couldn’t type, and other days they felt okay. Now that I’m in remission, I know when I’m having a Lyme flare-up because my forearms and shins start to ache. When I’m overtired or I’ve over-exerted myself, I always get a headache on the left side of my head. (This is due to babesia, which eats oxygen in the red blood cells. When I over-exert myself, I don’t get enough oxygen to that side of my brain, causing inflammation and subsequent pain).
Moreover, Lyme loves to hide in scar tissue, so it makes perfect sense that’s where you’re having the worst pain. I had the anterior cruciate ligament of my left knee repaired before I was aware I had Lyme, and it took much longer for that knee to heal than it should have; this is likely because there was Lyme bacteria in the scar tissue. I’ve also had multiple eye surgeries, and my doctor suspects scar tissue over my left eye is why my headaches often start there.
Is the word “cured” ever used with tick-borne illness?
Yes and no. It depends which illness you have, how long you’ve had it, how quickly you got treatment, and how well you’ve responded to treatment. If Lyme is caught early and treated adequately with two to four weeks of antibiotics—and if it is not complicated by co-infections—it can conceivably be cured. However, even in those cases, some 20% of patients still experience ongoing symptoms called Post Treatment Lyme Disease Syndrome (PTLDS), and they can require additional treatment.
My own Lyme is in remission, not cured because I went eight years undiagnosed. By then the bacteria had crossed the blood-brain barrier. Once it’s in the central nervous system, it becomes very difficult to fully eradicate it. I’m probably 80% restored to full health, a percentage that has continually improved (with brief periods of flare-up).
There are others who have had PTLDS who claim to have been cured, but some of these have subsequently relapsed. It really depends on each individual case.
I was originally diagnosed with the co-infection Ehrlichia, and that is now considered to be cured. I no longer test positive for it or show specific symptoms. The co-infection that still gives me the most trouble is babesia. I was not surprised to hear doctors at this year’s ILADS conference say that babesia can be treated to an extent—symptoms can be alleviated and held at bay for a while—but that it often rebounds. Currently, babesia has no cure.
But don’t despair. Researchers are getting closer to using that coveted word “cure” every day. See my “Highlights From ILADS 2019” post that provides information on new drugs like Dapsone and Disulfiram, the latter of which has some patients, as Dr. Kenneth Liegner stated, “enjoying enduring remission,” that is, feeling well for six months or longer. It’s too early to use the word “cure” decisively.
Do you think I’m going down the right path, being treated for tick-borne disease?
I know it can be confusing when so many doctors give you different diagnoses and treatment options. You don’t know who or what to believe, and that is scary. Even two different LLMDs might give you two different protocols (and that’s because they each have a personal opinion on what might work best for you, since there is no single set protocol for treating tick-borne disease).
If you trust the LLMD who has made a clinical diagnosis of Lyme with or without co-infections, and your symptoms corroborate those infections, and/or your blood work confirms those infections, then yes, I absolutely think you are going down the right path. Remember that having Lyme is not a choice.
Once you begin treatment, you’ll know for sure if you’re on the right path. If you do have Lyme, you’ll likely have a Herxheimer reaction (when the antibiotics kill off the Lyme bacteria at a rate faster than your body can eliminate them, making you feel worse before you feel better). That could be a good indication that you should stay the course.
The real question is, do you feel like you are going down the right path? No one knows your body better than you do. You know you are sick. You know what your symptoms are. You know they are not all in your head. If you’ve seen an LLMD and feel in your gut that the doctor is right for you, then trust that feeling, and don’t worry what anyone else says.

Opinions expressed by contributors are their own.
Jennifer Crystal is a writer and educator in Boston. Her memoir One Tick Stopped the Clock is forthcoming. Contact her at lymewarriorjennifercrystal@gmail.com.
https://neurosciencenews.com/alzheimers-inflammation-15235/
Inflammation drives the progression of neurodegenerative brain diseases and plays a major role in the accumulation of tau proteins within neurons. An international research team led by the German Center for Neurodegenerative Diseases (DZNE) and the University of Bonn comes to this conclusion in the journal Nature. The findings are based on the analyses of human brain tissue and further lab studies. In the particular case of Alzheimer’s the results reveal a hitherto unknown connection between Amyloid Beta and tau pathology. Furthermore, the results indicate that inflammatory processes represent a potential target for future therapies.
Tau proteins usually stabilize a neuron’s skeleton. However, in Alzheimer’s disease, frontotemporal dementia (FTD), and other “tauopathies” these proteins are chemically altered, they detach from the cytoskeleton and stick together. As a consequence, the cell’s mechanical stability is compromised to such an extent that it dies off. In essence, “tau pathology” gives neurons the deathblow. The current study led by Prof. Michael Heneka, director of the Department of Neurodegenerative Diseases and Gerontopsychiatry at the University of Bonn and a senior researcher at the DZNE, provides new insights into why tau proteins are transformed. As it turns out, inflammatory processes triggered by the brain’s immune system are a driving force.
A Molecular Switch
A particular protein complex, the “NLRP3 inflammasome”, plays a central role for these processes, the researchers report in Nature. Heneka and colleagues already studied this macromolecule, which is located inside the brain’s immune cells, in previous studies. It is a molecular switch that can trigger the release of inflammatory substances. For the current study, the researchers examined tissue samples from the brains of deceased FTD patients, cultured brain cells, and mice that exhibited hallmarks of Alzheimer’s and FTD.
“Our results indicate that the inflammasome and the inflammatory reactions it triggers, play an important role in the emergence of tau pathology”, Heneka said. In particular, the researchers discovered that the inflammasome influences enzymes that induce a “hyperphosphorylation” of tau proteins. This chemical change ultimately causes them to separate from the scaffold of neurons and clump together. “It appears that inflammatory processes mediated by the inflammasome are of central importance for most, if not all, neurodegenerative diseases with tau pathology.”
A Link between Amyloid Beta and Tau
This especially applies to Alzheimer’s disease. Here another molecule comes into play: “amyloid beta” (Amyloid Beta). In Alzheimer’s, this protein also accumulates in the brain. In contrast to tau proteins, this does not happen within the neurons but between them. In addition, deposition of Amyloid Beta starts in early phases of the disease, while aggregation of tau proteins occurs later.
In previous studies, Heneka and colleagues were able to show that the inflammasome can promote the aggregation of Amyloid Beta. Here is where the connection to the recent findings comes in. “Our results support the amyloid cascade hypothesis for the development of Alzheimer’s. According to this hypothesis, deposits of Amyloid Beta ultimately lead to the development of tau pathology and thus to cell death,” said Heneka. “Our current study shows that the inflammasome is the decisive and hitherto missing link in this chain of events, because it bridges the development from Amyloid Beta pathology to tau pathology. It passes the baton, so to speak.” Thus, deposits of Amyloid Beta activate the inflammasome. As a result, formation of further deposits of Amyloid Beta is promoted. On the other hand, chemical changes occur to the tau proteins resulting into their aggregation.
A Possible Starting Point for Therapies
“Inflammatory processes promote the development of Amyloid Beta pathology, and as we have now been able to show, of tau pathology as well. Thus, the inflammasome plays a key role in Alzheimer’s and other brain diseases,” said Heneka, who is involved in the Bonn-based “ImmunoSensation” cluster of excellence and who also teaches at the University of Massachusetts Medical School. With these findings, the neuroscientist sees opportunities for new treatment methods. “The idea of influencing tau pathology is obvious. Future drugs could tackle exactly this aspect by modulating the immune response. With the development of tau pathology, mental abilities decline more and more. Therefore, if tau pathology could be contained, this would be an important step towards a better therapy.”
Source:
DZNE
Media Contacts:
Marcus Neitzert – DZNE
Image Source:
The image is in the public domain.
Original Research: Closed access
“NLRP3 inflammasome activation drives tau pathology”. Christina Ising et al.
Nature doi:10.1038/s41586-019-1769-z.
Abstract
NLRP3 inflammasome activation drives tau pathology
Alzheimer’s disease is characterized by the accumulation of amyloid-beta in plaques, aggregation of hyperphosphorylated tau in neurofibrillary tangles and neuroinflammation, together resulting in neurodegeneration and cognitive decline1. The NLRP3 inflammasome assembles inside of microglia on activation, leading to increased cleavage and activity of caspase-1 and downstream interleukin-1β release2. Although the NLRP3 inflammasome has been shown to be essential for the development and progression of amyloid-beta pathology in mice3, the precise effect on tau pathology remains unknown. Here we show that loss of NLRP3 inflammasome function reduced tau hyperphosphorylation and aggregation by regulating tau kinases and phosphatases. Tau activated the NLRP3 inflammasome and intracerebral injection of fibrillar amyloid-beta-containing brain homogenates induced tau pathology in an NLRP3-dependent manner. These data identify an important role of microglia and NLRP3 inflammasome activation in the pathogenesis of tauopathies and support the amyloid-cascade hypothesis in Alzheimer’s disease, demonstrating that neurofibrillary tangles develop downstream of amyloid-beta-induced microglial activation.
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https://madisonarealymesupportgroup.com/2018/09/11/its-time-to-find-the-alzheimers-germ/
For more on the potential connection between Alzheimer’s and tick borne illness:
https://madisonarealymesupportgroup.com/2016/06/09/alzheimers-byproduct-of-infection/ (Link to Kris Kristofferson’s case. Lyme treatment turned the Alzheimer’s completely around)
https://madisonarealymesupportgroup.com/2017/01/18/a-bug-for-alzheimers/
https://madisonarealymesupportgroup.com/2018/07/28/herpes-viruses-implicated-in-alzheimers-disease/
https://madisonarealymesupportgroup.com/2017/10/14/lost-link-als-lyme/
https://madisonarealymesupportgroup.com/2017/06/10/the-coming-pandemic-of-lyme-dementia/
https://globallymealliance.org/the-difficulty-and-importance-of-asking-for-help/

by Jennifer Crystal
Last winter an acquaintance sustained an injury that made it difficult for her to do any heavy lifting. She managed well enough until a big snowstorm hit her area. Her doctor warned her not to shovel her driveway. But because she lived alone, she was either going to have to ask someone else to shovel or stay snowed in.
The solution here seems simple, but it’s actually quite difficult for anyone who is a natural “helper”. As individuals, we are happy to provide help, but we’re not very good at receiving it, and even worse when it comes to asking for it. To ask for help is to show one’s vulnerability; it is to relinquish some control and recognize one’s own limitations. And that makes a lot of us uncomfortable.
A little more than a decade ago, when I was in the throes of a Lyme relapse, I was in a similar situation. I was living alone in Vermont when the state got walloped with more than two feet of snow. Stuck on my couch, barely able to address my basic needs, I wondered how I would ever dig myself out. I saw neighbors huffing and puffing as they unearthed their vehicles and driveways. I hardly knew any of them. How could I possibly ask them for help?
I resigned myself to staying indoors. But my symptoms worsened, and my doctor said I needed to start a new antibiotic. That meant going to the pharmacy, which meant digging out my car.
I paced around my apartment, trying to figure out what to do. I did not have the physical strength to shovel, no matter how badly I wanted to do it or how hard willed I believed myself. I had no choice but to ask for help; I didn’t like being in that position. It brought on feelings of shame and guilt that have often accompanied me on my Lyme journey.
I called my mom. She lived out of state and couldn’t physically help, but she suggested I call an old college friend who lived in my town.
“I can’t do that!,” I said. “He has a family to take care of! I’m sure he’s busy digging out their own cars. He works full time, too. How can I give him this big task on top of everything else he’s got going on?”
I see now that I was projecting my own fears on the response of my friend. I was trying to think of all the ways my request could be a burden on him, without allowing him a say in the matter. I assumed he’d be annoyed or put out, but those assumptions stemmed from my own discomfort.
In the past, I’d had the experience of asking the wrong person for help. Once during my illness, I planned a lunch with former colleagues. I knew I would have more energy if I didn’t have to drive myself to the restaurant, so I asked a colleague who lived nearby if she could pick me up.
“That’s really going to be tough,” she replied. “I have a lot of other things going on that morning, and picking you up would be an extra ten minutes out of my way.” I’d had to swallow my pride and when my request was rejected, I felt embarrassed and ashamed.
In fact, I’d simply asked the wrong person; that sometimes happens, just as sometimes I’m not available to help others as I’d like to. My former colleague wasn’t very understanding when it came to illness. Some people aren’t. Other people are, though, and there was no reason to believe my old friend wouldn’t be compassionate.
Finally, I bit the bullet and called. “Of course I’ll help,” he said without hesitation. “Give me an hour to finish shoveling off our cars, and I’ll be right over.” An hour later there he was, heaving piles of snow with the strength of a lumberjack, and an hour later he was finished. What seemed an insurmountable task to me had truly been no big deal to him, and he said so when I offered to pay him or at least make him some hot cocoa. “Happy to help,” he said. “Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”
I relayed this story to my injured acquaintance who was also snowed in. Together we created a shortlist of people she could ask for help.
A few days later I called to check on her. She was sacked out on her couch, her injury worse, because she’d never called anyone. She had insisted on doing the shoveling herself. She didn’t want to appear weak, she confided. And besides, no one could shovel her driveway as well as she could.
I understood where she was coming from because I’d once been there myself. Over time, though, I’ve realized that asking for help is not a sign of weakness; it actually takes a lot of strength. I also learned that it’s okay to release control over external matters from time to time, like how well the driveway will be shoveled, in order to focus on one’s precious health.
Doing so will allow you to get stronger faster, so you can get back to helping others. Until then, you can still be a natural helper from bed, just by being a good friend, a good listener, and a confident presence. If it feels overwhelming right now, that’s okay; it means that you need to take this time to focus on yourself and get well, so that one day, you can pay it forward.
Jennifer Crystal is a writer and educator in Boston. Her memoir One Tick Stopped the Clock is forthcoming. Contact her at lymewarriorjennifercrystal@gmail.com.
https://www.uprootinglyme.com/liposomal-essential-oil-remedies/?