Many years ago, I bought a t-shirt that featured a cartoon cow lying on its back, feet straight up in the air, and at the bottom the caption read, “Really, I’m fine.”
I wore that t-shirt until you could no longer discern hooves from the actual words, and at last I had to finally toss it.
Tonight at church, Fiddledaddy and I attended a class on parenting an adolescent. Because we have absolutely no idea what we’re doing with a certain 11 year old, who is solely focussed on pushing the boundaries. And my buttons. Which reminds me, I need to make that weekly phone call to my Dad to again apologize for everything I put my parents through.
Afterward, as I hobbled up the aisle on one crutch, probably no fewer than a dozen people stopped and patted me on my shoulder, asking how I was doing. I gave them my standard answer, “I’m doing fine.” Occasionally I get more creative and offer, “I’m up and out of the house!”
Fiddledaddy finally looked at me and asked, “Why don’t you tell them the truth?”
And I really couldn’t answer that, except to say that I really don’t want to tell anyone the truth, because I’m afraid I’ll just start weeping. The truth is, that I’m scared. The truth is that I hurt all of the time. And the truth is that I have days where it’s all I can do just to put one foot in front of the other just to get from the start of the day to the end. The truth is that I’m struggling.
Driving is beginning to be an issue. And as Fiddledaddy learned when I hit the 7th month of pregnancy, and he has to confiscate my car keys because I can no longer fit behind the wheel, I AM NOT HAPPY IF I CAN’T EXPERIENCE THE FREEDOM OF HOPPING IN THE CAR AND BURNING RUBBER OUT OF MY DRIVEWAY.
It’s just a small part of feeling autonomous that I’m been awfully attached to. But, as I’m losing more use of my left arm, turning is becoming very difficult.
I’m good as long as I can go straight. But someone had the nerve to build roads around here that CURVE. Also, as I learned tonight, I’m losing the ability to give a really good hug. Or to reach out my arm and pray for someone. Or just raise my hands during a really great praise song in church on Sunday.
I’m beginning to experience some of the neurological issues that sometimes come with advanced Lyme Disease. I have difficulty finding words, or finishing a sentence, or remembering what the heck it is I went out to the garage to find in the first place. I’m foggy. And so tired.
I debated in my head whether or not to spill my thoughts onto a post. But more than anything, I want to be honest about what this disease does to you, and what my experiences are with Lyme Disease. Today I borrowed a DVD about Lyme Disease called “Under Our Skin” from a girlfriend of mine who is also fighting Lyme. I haven’t been able to get through it, because of how close to home it’s hitting. And I’m just fighting mad at how much controversy there is within the medical community regarding the diagnosing and treatment of Lyme.
Today my coping skills have taken a big hit. And I know I’m going to have days like that. And likely, tomorrow will be better and I’ll cringe when I reread this post. And that’s okay. I want always to remember this journey, so that I can be a help to someone else who is struggling.
It’s okay to have bad days. And it’s okay to be honest about them.
I begin treatment next week in earnest. I’ve been fighting some of the smaller co-infections this week, and I suspect that accounts for the little dark cloud over me right now. Lyme is putting up a fight.
I’m up for it. Lyme is picking on the wrong girl.
I love you guys. Thank you for letting me vent. And thank you for your continued support, encouragement, and prayers. And thank you for your comments. I tell you what, you guys make me giggle daily with some of the stuff you come up with. It’s such a comfort to know that I’m not alone in my insanity. 🙂